“No. If anyone is a dick-twat, it is me. I am the dick-twat. And I’ll wear a vagina sash and a penis crown proclaiming my dick-twat championship status. You had no idea he was with someone because I took for granted that he was single. Jackson has been single forever, ever since his fiancée left him and—”
“He was engaged? When? When was this?”
He’d been engaged. He’d been in love. And she’d left him.
“I don’t remember. I can’t keep up with the Green Valley gossip. Years ago at this point. And before that, the man was a complete player, never with the same woman twice.”
Never with the same woman twice.
The sick feeling in my stomach bubbled up my esophagus. I closed my eyes; my chest tight, aching; my forehead pressing against the steering wheel. That night we’d shared all those years ago, I’d told him our time together came with no strings, that I was never with the same man twice. I’d promised him I would never speak to him again after the night was over. I’d promised.
Now I was a liar.
I’d spent half a decade wishing I hadn’t left, that I’d stayed one more day, even though he hadn’t asked me to. And then the first thing (other than hermiting) that I did when I came back to Green Valley was seek him out and break that promise. A one-night stand, showing up unexpectedly and unannounced at his work place after no contact for five and a half years.
If he’d wanted to talk to me, he could’ve asked Sienna a million times. But he didn’t. Seriously. What. Had. I. Been. Thinking?
“Rae?”
“Sorry. I’m here. I’m . . .” I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the tepid air gushing out of the car’s AC. It wouldn’t cool down until I was on the road. “I’m coming back.”
“To the house?”
“To the carriage house, yes.”
“Come up to the main house. Spend the rest of the afternoon with me.”
“I think I want to hide under some blankets for a while.” Straightening in my seat, I checked the rearview mirror and buckled my seatbelt.
You’re a mess, Rae. Normal people don’t proposition people, especially when those people have nice girlfriends and live nice, normal lives with nice, normal coworkers in a nice, normal office.
And nice, normal people keep their promises.
Maybe I really did belong in LA. Maybe flying out here to escape my pretend life was the fantasy, and Hollywood was the reality. Maybe the sooner I made peace with my reality, the better.
“No. You will not hide under blankets. Hey, I’ll get a sitter, and we’ll go out to dinner. We haven’t been out to dinner since you arrived. There’s a great steak place called The Front Porch. They have cocktails.”
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me. “Sienna—”
“It’s settled. You, me, Jet. Maybe one of his siblings is free and can join us.”
“Don’t try to set me up.”
“I wouldn’t, I promise. Plus, all Jet’s siblings are married or in committed, long-term relationships. They’re just fun people, and I think what you need is an evening out with fun people.”
I didn’t agree.
But I didn’t have the energy to argue either.
Chapter 7
*Jackson*
“Nobody can understand what you’re feeling unless they burn the way you burned.”
Rihanna
I didn’t allow myself to think too hard about why I took meticulous care getting ready for my date with Charlotte—trimming my beard, styling my hair, wearing my best suit, and using both aftershave and cologne.
Nor did I allow myself to think about Raquel’s visit to the station today. Her unexpected visit. Or how I’d taken one look at her and forgotten where I was. Or how, when she’d left, I’d felt like the entirety of my life was walking out the door with her.
Because none of it made any damn sense.
My priorities were in order, I had my sights set on something and someone permanent, not on temporary or fun or easy. Not anymore. I would not think about Raquel. I had no reason to think about Raquel. So, I wouldn’t.
“Look at you, Fancy.” Charlotte, pulling open her front door, smiled and then frowned within the span of two seconds, glancing down at her jeans and red V-neck shirt. “Wait. Should I change?”
“No need, you look fine.”
“Gee, thanks.” She rolled her eyes. “But you’re in a suit.” Now Charlotte squinted at me, and her hands came to her hips. “Wait a minute. Is tonight a surprise? Are you taking me to a surprise?” Before I could answer, her eyes got big all of a sudden and she lightly hit my shoulder, looking excited. “Let me guess, is it a funeral?”
I laughed. She was so funny and weird. We’d been friends forever, and I knew not everyone appreciated her humor, it could be dark at times, hitting an off-note. But I thought she was hilarious.
“No. There is no surprise, I swear. We have reservations at The Front Porch, like we agreed earlier. I ordered ahead your favorite to cut down on time, so you can get back for the sitter. Now, come on.” I motioned for her to get moving.
Charlotte looked torn. Glancing down at her clothes again, she sighed. “I want to change.”
“Okay. Go change. I’ll wait.”
She grimaced and stepped closer, whispering, “My mother is here.”
I understood her indecision. Charlotte’s momma made a habit of inviting herself on our dates. “Then don’t change and let’s go.”
She huffed. “But I really want to change. Why’d you have to wear a suit?”
“We can go to my place—”
“Really?” She perked up, looking pleased, but then wary. “Wait, is Boone there?”
“Boone is there, I think. But I can change real fast. If we leave now, we might still make it.”
“Or, if Boone isn’t there, we could just hang out at your place?”
“Charlotte, I called ahead. They’re expecting us. The food will be waiting.”
Charlotte’s face fell and she made a low, grunting sound in the back of her throat. “Never mind. I’ll go change. But—” she quickly glanced behind her “—you stay out here. In fact, go get in your truck. Don’t let her see you.”
“Are you kidding? I have to say hi to your mother.”
“What? Why?”
“It’d be disrespectful not to.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “It would be nice if you made more of an effort to be less respectful every once in a while.”
I released a frustrated breath, her statement sounding suspiciously like what my father had said at breakfast yesterday.
“What ever happened to fun, flirty Jackson James? The one who used to sneak in Darlene Simmons’s window for a quickie? Did you stop by her momma’s room to say hi on your way out?”
“I’m not like that anymore, and you know it.” Charlotte had been one of my friends who’d cheered me on when I’d stopped acting a fool. She’d been there when I’d drawn those lines in the sand, so why she was surprised and/or irritated with my manners now felt like a giant mystery. “Besides, where’d you hear that?”