Dinner was silent as Jackson and Micah devoured their meals without pausing for breaths, it seemed. I was slower, taking my time to try my hand at a conversation. The silence bothered me and I couldn’t help it. It felt too still, too strange.
“So, how do you know Thad?” I didn’t know where to start, but I figured that would be the safest bet.
“Why? You interested?”
I hid a sigh behind my napkin and shook my head. “Just curious.”
He didn’t say anything more and Micah looked between us with a curious look on his face. I smiled at him when he looked at me, trying to ease any worry he might still have about Jackson. While he was an ass, it wasn’t anything Micah needed to worry about.
“So, Crimson Security? Is that where you met?”
Jackson dropped his fork a little heavier than necessary and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand when he finished chewing. “No.”
I bit my lip and picked at my roast. It was tender and perfectly cooked, but I wasn’t enjoying it. There was tension in the air and I had grown comfortable with just me and Micah in the house. Tension, which I would’ve been fine with three weeks earlier, was suddenly making my skin practically crawl.
“So, before that. But after you moved off when we were younger. Thad wasn’t from the same neighborhood, right?” I wanted to shut up. I really did.
Jackson slid back from the table, anger clear on his face. “Fuck, Cammie, just mind your own business. I’m not here to be your fucking friend.”
At the clubhouse, that would’ve been more than enough to shut me up. We weren’t at the clubhouse, though. “I’m not trying to stick my nose in your business. I’m just trying to make conversation with you. It’s what normal people do.”
He stood up and grabbed his plate. “You’re far from normal, don’t you think? All things considered.”
Micah sat up straighter and frowned at Jackson. “You’re talking to Cammie like the guys at the clubhouse did and you shouldn’t. She’s too nice for that. Be nicer to her.”
Tears pricked my eyes and I smiled at Micah, my heart completely lodged in my throat. “Thank you, bud. Why don’t we finish our dinner on the swing with Deli? We like to talk during dinner and it seems that Jackson prefers the silence. No big deal. I have a new book to tell you about, anyway.”
He groaned but grabbed his plate and led the way outside. I waited until the screen door slammed behind him and stood next to Jackson, glaring up at him. “You can leave. I’m not going to have Micah feeling like he’s back with the Wolves. You want to be a biker asshole, go back to the Devils. This is my house and it’s not happening here. If you insist on staying, we can find you a tent and you can sleep outside. I’ll bring you meals and you can use the bathroom to shower and stuff, but I don’t want you inside if you’re going to be rude and disrespectful. I wasn’t being nosy. I was just trying to be nice and talk to you. I won’t make that mistake again.”
He watched me with his lips pressed into a thin line and then sat back down at the table as I followed Micah.
The swing creaked dangerously as I sat next to him and Deli with a forced smile on my face. “So, let me tell you about Jenny and Carlos. Carlos is a millionaire, but he doesn’t want”
“Are all men like that? Am I supposed to be like that?”
I dropped my fork and groaned as Deli licked it happily. “No. They aren’t all terrible. Jackson’s friend Thad seems really nice. And you are absolutely perfect. You’re the best man I know.”
His grin was huge. “I can stand up for you. I know the guys in your books always stand up for the women around them. I can do that.”
I hooked my arm around his shoulder and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “You did a good job inside. You stood up for me while still being respectful. I appreciate that. You don’t always have to stand up for me, though. Sometimes, I like fighting my own battles, too.”
“You’re different now.”
I picked up a piece of roast with my fingers and shoved it into my mouth. Talking around it, I asked him how.
“You’re happier, but you’re crazier, too.”
I laughed so suddenly that I nearly choked on my food. I had to forcefully swallow down a too-big piece so I could breathe again. “Crazier?”
He stood up and grabbed my fork from Deli. “Yeah, like you just do and say whatever. It’s fun. I want pie. You want a slice?”
I shook my head and watched him walk away. He constantly surprised me and I loved it. He also made me proud of myself. As silly as it was, I took so much pride in knowing that he liked who I was becoming.
Instead of Micah, Jackson came out and sat beside me on the swing. He didn’t look up from his pie and ice cream as he spoke in his growly voice. “I was informed that all men don’t have to be jerks and that I should apologize so I can stay.”
I laughed. “He’s a good kid.”
“Kid? I know a fifty-year-old Catholic mother who isn’t as great at guilting men. He’s a monster.”
I dropped a piece of roast to Deli and ate the last bite of my roll. “I don’t want him seeing us fight. I get that you hate me, for whatever reason, but I’d like it if you could pretend a little while he’s around. This place is supposed to be peaceful.”
He finally looked up at me and his black eyes caught the setting sun in front of us magically. “No fighting in front of the kid. Got it.”
I smiled and looked back down at Deli. “You can sleep inside.”
He grunted.
The swing grunted back. I looked up and my eyes widened as I watched the hook that kept the swing chained to the beam over our heads stretching open. I tried to get up, but it was too late. We were suddenly falling backwards and then landing on our backs next to each other as the broken chain hung over us, taunting us.
With a groan, I looked over at Jackson and gave a loud bark of laughter. His ice cream was planted firmly on his face, the pie on his chest. I shook as I laughed, unconcerned with getting up for the moment.
He growled as he swiped the ice cream from his face and flung it away from him. “This place is a death trap.”
I reached over and swiped my finger through the pie on his chest before sticking it into my mouth. It was good. “It was fine until you showed up. You keep breaking stuff.”
His eyes roamed to my mouth and then narrowed. “You’re going to blame this swing breaking on me?”
I swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. It was fine until you sat on it.”
His eyes moved lower and I fought the urge to cover myself under the intensity of his gaze. When his tongue swept out and moved over his lower lip, I dug my fingers into the grass beneath me. I could tell it wasn’t a practiced move. Raw and needy, his lips said something his actual mouth would never say.
From that close, I could smell the sweetness of the ice cream on his breath and see individual strands of his thick hair. My body woke up like a wild fire, raging inside the dress I wore. It felt like every cell of my being was screaming at me to touch him.
“You broke my swing!” Micah’s voice threw me into action, action away from Jackson.
I rolled over and climbed to my feet as fast as I could. I dusted grass from my back and moved even farther away from him. “It needed to be reinforced, anyway. I’ll fix it. We can go to town tomorrow and get the stuff from the hardware store. If you’re lucky, we can stop at the bookstore, too.”
I grabbed my plate from where it had fallen and hurried inside the house. I made quick work of washing dishes and putting everything away. Anything to avoid having to look at Jackson until the urges I felt passed.
I’d felt like a lot of things in my life. A child, a screw-up, a victim, a chef, a fighter. Never had I felt like a woman. Simply a woman. I’d never felt wanted because of my body. There had been a string of men who wanted me because of some power play. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that what the men in the MC clubs wanted me for was anything close to sex. They wanted control and power.
When Jackson stared at me, though, his desires, unwanted as they were for him, made me feel like a hot-blooded woman. He wanted my body.
Flushed and feeling a little bit like running away, I had the kitchen spotless in too few minutes. Then, with nothing left to do, I went to the living room and settled into the corner of the couch as Micah sat in front of the TV, playing his game. Jackson came in and sat on the other side, his hands resting on top of his thighs.
I tore my eyes away from them and grabbed my book. Unfortunately, I was at a scene where Carlos took Jenny against her bedroom door, too eager to make it to the bed. I groaned audibly, accidentally, and closed the book.
“I’m going to take a shower. Do you need anything, Micah?”
He grumbled, distracted by his game.
“Jackson?” My voice came out breathier when I said his name and my cheeks flamed.
Jackson grunted a negative sound, but I noticed his hands tighten on his legs.
Practically running from the room, I hurried to the bathroom upstairs and slammed the door shut behind me. I leaned against it and rolled my eyes at myself. What was wrong with me?
I turned the water on and stripped. I stepped in while the water was still cold and squeaked as it froze me out of my lustful stupidity. Couldn’t be turned on when my body temperature was nearing freezing.
I washed my hair and body before shaving. I dried off and left my hair wrapped in a towel as I hurried across the hall to my tiny bedroom. I pulled on a pair of cotton pajama shorts and an oversized T-shirt. I brushed out my hair and braided it down my back.
Ready for bed, I frowned. It was barely dark. I couldn’t go to bed. I was too afraid of my reaction to go back down to the living room, though. Feeling helpless, I just stood at my bedroom door for a ridiculous amount of time before squaring my shoulders. I was tough. I could face Jackson and my desires. It wasn’t a big deal. I was an adult. Almost thirty.
I descended the stairs and froze. I was almost thirty, but I’d been locked away. I was stunted. I wondered if the princesses in all the fairy tales who’d been locked away had such intense awkwardness with the princes who came to save them. Not that I was a princess, and by no means was Jackson a prince.
I retreated to my kitchen and pulled out ingredients to make homemade cinnamon rolls that would rise in the fridge overnight. I would’ve done anything if it meant that I didn’t have to deal with the things I was feeling. I was being a coward and I wasn’t even upset about it.
“Where do you want me?”
I jumped about a foot in the air and spun around to find Jackson leaning against the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed. The tattoos on his left arm had been covered and the entire thing was blacked out. It shouldn’t have made him more attractive, but it did. “Want you?”
He tilted his head down and then looked up at me through ridiculously long eyelashes. “In a bed or on the couch?”
My mouth flapped as I tried to catch up. Was he propositioning me? Like that? I waved the cup of flour I was holding around uselessly as I tried to find the words for what I needed to say. No. I needed to say no. However, my lips wanted to move in a yes way. A big yes way.
“Where should I sleep, Cammie?”
I coughed and turned back to the bowl in front of me. Sleeping. I was an idiot. I dumped the flour in the bowl and glanced over my shoulder at him. His eyes were on my ass and a smirk was tugging at his lips.
“You can have my bed. I’ll be up early cooking, so you’ll get better rest upstairs. It’s the room on the right. I just need to get a few things out.”
His footsteps were heavy as he came closer and stood just behind me. “You don’t have to give up your bed.”
I looked back at him, big mistake, and sucked in a sharp breath. “I want you in my bed.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he actually laughed.
Feeling like an idiot, I turned back to my food. “I mean I want you to stay in my bed. I’m smaller, so the couch is a better fit for me, anyway.”
Mortification washed over me, hot and fast, as I heard him walk away.