Jaxson froze, his whiskey-soaked mind conjuring pictures of Penny, round with his child. It was so clear, and she was so beautiful. So radiant. And it was impossible. They’d been careful.
“Fuck, Jaxson, you look like you’re going to hurl. Tell me that’s not a possibility.”
“It’s not.”
“Good. Come on. Cherise is doing last call. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Jaxson said, still reeling from the image.
Buck dropped Jaxson off with a promise to stop by the next day. Jaxson stumbled into the old house, the combination of exhaustion, mental fatigue, and copious amounts of alcohol taking their toll.
He made it up the steps and stripped down. Collapsing on the bed, he rubbed absently at his chest, where a hollow ache had taken up residence. Then, he closed his eyes and passed out.
* * *
Jaxson was dreaming of Penny, of the way she’d felt, curled up against him while giving him time to recover. Her warmth and fragrant softness. The way she kissed his scars. The way her hands skimmed gently over his body, stroking and petting and fondling. As great as the sex had been, he had secretly enjoyed those in-between times, too.
When he was with her, he didn’t hurt so much. Not inside and not outside. And when she’d straddled his back, naked, and started kneading at the knots the increased physical activity had brought about, he’d thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
He sighed and allowed the warmth to soak into him, and then he inhaled deeply, wanting to fill his lungs with the scent of sunshine and flowers. But it wasn’t sunshine and flowers he smelled. It was perfume and whiskey and stale cigarette smoke.
His eyes popped open, his brain instantly alert. “Cherise?”
“Yeah, baby, it’s me.”
Jaxson scrambled out of bed and turned on the bedside light, revealing Cherise in nothing more than he was wearing. His mind frantically rewound to the night before. He’d been drunk but not that drunk. Buck had brought him home, and when Jaxson had gone to bed, he’d been alone.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Cherise propped herself up on one arm and smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Jaxson grabbed the pair of jeans he’d left on the floor and jabbed his legs in, gritting his teeth against the pain in his hips and leg.
“I don’t remember you being so shy,” Cherise said. “I’ve seen it all before. Touched it. Had my mouth on it.” Her eyes dropped to his groin and she licked her lips.
“You need to leave. Now.”
“Why? You’re lonely. I’m lonely. We can help each other feel better, don’t you think? You used to like the way I made you feel.”
“That was a long time ago. A lot has happened since then. Like you marrying Bobby Cheney six months after I enlisted.”
“You always were the jealous type, Jax.”
“I’m not jealous. I thought you had better taste than that.”
“I thought I was pregnant. What was I supposed to do, huh?”
“Pregnant? You weren’t pregnant when I left.” He paused. “Were you?”
They’d always been careful. He’d never had sex without wearing a condom, and she’d sworn she was on the pill.
Her lips pursed. “No.”
“Fuck, Cherise. What did you do, head over to Bobby’s after my bus left the station?”
“No, not right away,” she told him, but hell, it couldn’t have been that long after. “I was lonely. Janie had Buck, and I had no one. I got drunk, okay? One thing led to another, and stuff happened. Besides, we had an agreement, remember? No strings while you were away. Don’t tell me you’ve been doing without all this time.”
He shook his head. He hadn’t. But he hadn’t knocked anyone up or gotten married.
Her face relaxed. “Now, you’re back, and there’s no reason why we can’t pick up where we left off.”
She was so wrong about that.
“It’s not going to happen, Cherise.”
“Why not?”
“Reasons.”
“What reasons? Give me one.”
He could give her plenty, but there was only one that mattered. “Because there’s someone else.”
Cherise’s eyes widened and then narrowed. She’d always been possessive where he was concerned, which was kind of ironic, considering. “So? Who is she? More importantly, where is she?”
“Her name is Penny, and she’s—”
“Right here,” said a soft voice from the doorway.
Chapter Thirty
Penny
The look on Jaxson’s face was priceless. The look on the hussy’s in his bed, even more so.
Had Penny not overheard the conversation, she might have misread the situation. But she had heard it, and her heart remained intact.
“Penny. What are you doing here?” Jaxson asked in stunned disbelief. Whether it was good disbelief or bad disbelief was impossible to tell.
“Looking for you.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Cherise, who was quite naked and didn’t seem to care that the sheet was pooled around her hips. “Would you mind covering those up, please?”
“Jax, are you going to let her talk to me like that?”
Penny held her breath and waited to see what Jaxson would do. She knew she had taken a huge risk in showing up at his doorstep, unannounced, especially when he hadn’t even bothered to say good-bye, but when it came to Jaxson Adams, she was willing to take a few risks.
Jaxson’s eyes locked on hers; his lips curled slowly into a smile. Without looking at Cherise, he said, “You heard the woman, Cherise. Get dressed and get out.”
“But, Jax—”
“Now.”
Cherise shot Penny a look of pure loathing. Penny wasn’t too fond of her at that moment either.
In a move that was no doubt meant to be insulting, Cherise turned her back to Penny and bent over to pick up her clothes.
“You might want to see someone about that,” Penny said lightly. “Rashes can get nasty if left untreated.”
Jaxson, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Penny since she’d walked into the room, coughed, but it sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
After following the shameless hussy down the stairs and ensuring the door was closed and locked behind her, Penny turned around to see Jaxson watching her from the stairs. He didn’t say anything. It was hard to figure out what he was thinking based on his expression alone, but he looked amused and pensive and ... hungover. But those eyes. She felt them in her soul.
“I don’t know about you, but I could use a cup of coffee. Got some?”
He nodded.
“Great.”
Penny moved into the kitchen and started rummaging around. It didn’t take long to find what she needed. The cupboards were mostly empty, except for some canned goods of questionable age. She wondered when the last time was he’d had a decent meal. First chance she got, she was getting the fixings for pancakes. Assuming he didn’t send her packing before then, that was.
“So, are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb.
“I told you. Looking for you.”