Jump Start (Texas Hotzone 1)

He caught her hand and electricity shot up her arm. “Do what, Jen?” he asked, and then settled her hand to that delicious wall of muscled chest. “And you can touch me, Jen. I never bite unless you want me to. You know that.”

This time she did willingly touch his chest, shoving him away. “Damn you, Bobby Evans. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove. I don’t want to touch you. I don’t want you to bite me or not bite me, or tell me my hair looks good. You left. Fine. But there is nothing between us now, and I won’t be your local bedroom pit stop while you’re here.” She steeled her spine. “Now. Let me by so I can go home before I…” Do something embarrassing and cry. Her eyes prickled and that made her mad. She shoved his chest again. “Let me by.”

He released her hand but he didn’t move; he ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, Jennifer. This isn’t how I planned this.” There was something akin to real, raw emotion in his eyes now, all that coolness gone. And she knew she had to get out of here, before she did something foolish and asked exactly how or why he’d planned anything with her.

“Let me by, Bobby,” she repeated, her voice low, calmer than she felt. Way calmer than she felt. And to her total utter relief and displeasure, he did.

***

BOBBY HAD TAKEN his share of blows over the years, most of which had come from U.S. enemies. A few from his Army buds during drunken altercations. Being the sober guy who didn’t want to turn into his drunk father, in the middle of a bunch of drunks, turned into a bucket of laughs or a gutter of irritation. Sometimes both got the best of a guy. But being rejected by Jennifer hit him harder than any combination of those blows—like a Mack truck head-on.

He had a lot of explaining to do, including why the night before he’d enlisted pushed him over the edge, convinced him he was his father’s son and would one day become his father. Bobby doubted anything he could say would easily convince Jennifer he’d left because he loved her, to protect her. But the night he’d gone…it had been a bad night that had grabbed him by the throat and held on for years to come. Still did if he was honest.

Bobby dragged himself up the stairs, a beaten dog with his tail between his legs, only to find Marcie standing at the top, hands on her hips. “Bobby! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming tonight?”

“And here I thought the hug meant you were glad to see me,” he said dryly, stopping midway to the top, once they were eye level.

“I am,” she replied, sounding not the least bit convincing. “But your timing majorly stinks. Tonight, I told Jennifer you were coming to the wedding, and then a few minutes later, of all times, you pay a surprise early visit. Do you know how that makes me look?” He would have answered, but she didn’t give him the chance. “She thinks I planned this. She thinks I knew you were coming tonight and I didn’t warn her. She’s completely ticked at both of us, at me. She’s not supposed to be ticked at me, Bobby. She’s my maid of honor.”

Nothing like kicking a dog while he was down. “I know,” he said and then vowed, “I’ll fix it.”

“Eventually,” she agreed. “But I don’t have time for eventually, Bobby. My wedding is in two weeks.” She pressed her fingers to her temple. “Jeez. It’s Wednesday, Bobby. The combo bachelor/bachelorette party is Friday night and not only is Jennifer helping me set up, but now you’re also here. Look, if Jennifer shuts me out, it’ll tear me apart. You have to find a way to fix this right now.” She shook her head, crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her voice cracked as if she might cry. “She wouldn’t even look at me when she stormed toward the door.”

“I’ll go see her,” he said quickly. “Once I ex plain—”

“Don’t.” Marcie held up a hand and added quickly, “Not yet.”

“You said now, not later,” he reminded her, more than eager to charge after Jennifer. Damn it, letting her walk away had been hell. An excuse to see her again suited him fine.

“I know what I said,” Marcie fumed. “But not tonight. In case you forgot in your seven years away, she never responds well without some space to process. Let me call her and explain everything. Then you go see her. Let her sleep on this.”

“This meaning me.”

“Yes, you!” she said. “You broke her heart.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did and now that you’re back she needs some space. That’s the way she deals with things.”