Risky Business

CHAPTER 25

JAYME

I’m in the middle of talking with the Fergusons, a couple who’ve attended the Americana Land charity event for ten years straight, when Carson grabs my arm. His growled request to talk to me privately doesn’t bode well for me.

I thought we were okay when I shooed Toni and Topper away, but perhaps not? Maybe I should’ve left well enough alone with Archer, but he was beginning to make a scene. I might’ve completed my contract with Americana Land, but I’m not going to stand by and let that absentee asshole waltz in and undo all my hard work. Ben and Carson deserve better than that.

Carson pulls me off to the side of the Great Garden, opposite the bar, which gives us a small degree of privacy since that’s where people tend to flock at these events.

“Carson, I’m . . .” I start to say, but he interrupts me.

“Be quiet. I need to say this and I want to say it right,” he says in a harsh whisper. That stops my mouth and my brain, and I look up at Carson questioningly. His jaw is tight, his eyes tortured.

Did I fuck up that badly? Have I ruined everything between us?

I can feel the burn behind my eyes, but I blink away any thought of tears and press my lips together to keep from saying anything else. I’m falling apart inside, but I stand straight, throwing my shoulders back in defiance of the weakness I’m feeling.

You knew this was coming, Jayme. You saw him at his worst, and he’s seen you jump in every time something goes the least bit awry. The balance is off exactly how you knew it would be. You should’ve let him handle his brother.

But Carson doesn’t say anything. He stares into my eyes deeply, searching as if there’s an answer to the meaning of life hiding there. Fuck knows, I don’t have any answers. If I did, we wouldn’t be in this situation where he’s about to ditch me and I want to crawl into his arms and confess that I’ve developed big, deep feelings for him.

A situation where I still have some important things I need to tell Carson. But not if I’ve already messed up this badly. I let my gaze drop, my shoulders droop.

“Ah, fuck it,” he mumbles. His hands cup my jaw confidently, tilting my face back up, and then he kisses me firmly. His lips claim mine, his tongue demands entrance, and I submit to his every desire.

I want this kiss. Even if it’s a kiss goodbye. I match him move for move, our mouths working together to communicate things with this kiss that we won’t otherwise say. I can taste the wine he was sipping earlier, but beneath that sweetness, it’s passion, raw and powerful. I fall into every second of it, memorizing him as he sears his name into my soul.

I knew better. But I fell for him anyway. I don’t regret it. It was a risk I willingly took, thinking I understood the cost. But I was wrong—the loss is so much greater than I ever expected.

Carson pulls back and whispers softly, “Do you understand?”

I understand everything about him, maybe even more than he understands himself. And I know exactly what he said with that kiss.

Goodbye.

Suddenly, I’m airborne. Not figuratively, like Carson’s kiss has somehow killed me and turned me into a ghost of my former self. But literally airborne, as arms wrap around my waist from behind and lift me until my feet leave the ground.

Carson’s face contorts in murderous rage, and I consider that it might be Archer coming back for another round. And then I realize what my surprise picker-upper is saying. “Hey, Jaybird! Think you can fly?”

No! No, no, no . . .

I can feel my face pale as all the blood rushes to my feet, turning them to lead as I try to kick free. This isn’t how this is supposed to happen. Hell, it doesn’t need to happen at all if Carson’s telling me goodbye.

“Put her down,” Carson snaps, moving in closer. He’s on the verge of punching my assailant, his hands curled into fists and his rapid breathing causing his chest to rise and fall. The light in his eyes is completely gone. I think if he had a clear shot, he’d have already taken it.

My feet find the grass, though there’s no solid ground here now. Not with my brother Joel here now.

“You must be the guy. Carson, right?” My brother holds out his hand, grinning easily and seemingly oblivious to Carson’s anger.

I whirl around, pushing at Joel’s chest. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Joel answers my hard glare with a laugh, and annoyingly, doesn’t move an inch from my push. He’s as strong as ever, and pushing him is like pushing a tank.