"You're not convincing me of anything," he replied.
"That's not my problem, Jed. Convince yourself."
"Answer me one thing." I murmured in agreement. "Are you coming home with me at the end of the night?"
"That depends," I replied. "Will you complain about me and Annette dragging you guys to some clubs after dinner? Are you going to give me shit about drinking tequila and dancing like it's my job?"
"Not at all," he answered.
"Will you complain if I dance with other guys?"
His lips pulled up at the corners. "That depends on whether you're coming home with me, sweetheart."
"And if I do?"
"Then I have no reason not to trust you."
Chapter Thirty
JJ
Yield: the return on investment.
Brooke woresecond-skin jeans and a satin bustier she'd hidden under a blazer during the drive and dinner. She made me watch from the sidelines while she and Annette knocked back shots and shook their asses all over the club's dance floor. That part was tough for Jackson. He couldn't handle the sight of men circling Annette and Brooke without snarling like a junkyard dog.
I did some snarling of my own, but it had nothing to do with the men she cast off with little more than a shake of her head. No, those snarls came from the expanding pressure inside my chest. Brooke-Ashley Markham ruined my life, but she also patched it up and put it back together. Nothing was the same, nothing sat in the proper order, but none of that mattered because I loved her. It was a long time coming, but here, tonight, I saw it up close and I felt the blunt force of it as she moved with the music.
"I'm going out there," rumbled Jackson.
I slapped an arm across his chest to hold him back but never took my eyes off Brooke. "You're not," I replied. "They have this under control."
He jutted a finger toward Annette and Brooke. "That's not under control."
I watched while a random dude pushed himself between them and made an attempt at grabbing Brooke's ass. My hands curled into fists and the pressure in my chest expanded with sharp points, but I waved Jackson off.
"Just wait," I murmured. "Give her a minute. Let her do this."
Brooke looped her arm through Annette's elbow as she rounded on the man. Her hair floated down her back and over her bare shoulders in loose waves, but that didn't soften the stare she sent in his direction. I couldn't hear the words she spoke to him but as I'd expected, they worked. He lifted his hands in surrender as she ticked off a list on her fingers. She mimed him stepping back, staying out of their circle. She wagged a finger at him and I was certain I saw the wordsorryform on his lips. Then, she flicked her wrist and he bolted from the dance floor.
"Shit," Jackson muttered.
That woman is a motherfucking force to be reckoned with and I love her.
"I told you she'd handle it," I said, as smug as I fucking pleased.
"As impressive as that was, can we get out of here now?" Jackson asked miserably. "At this rate, I'm going to start making arrests or grow an ulcer. Maybe both."
"Soon," I replied. "Wait until they take their shoes off. That's when you know they're close."
After several minutes of silence between us, Jackson said, "We should've started that book club."
"The first rule of book club is you don't talk about the book club," I said, mostly to myself.
"That's interesting because the second rule of book club is you don't talk about the book club," Jackson added. "But there's no book club, so the other rules are irrelevant."
I shifted to face him, a laugh shaking my shoulders. "That wasn't bad, sheriff."
"High praise coming from you, Harniczek."
