Jackson took the sketch pad from his father, darkening another layer of lines, wondering if he’d come to the point where something, someone, was more important than his pain.
Chapter 34
“Aja Marie Everett, you’d better get your hind parts down here before this food you had me cook gets cold.”
Aja stood behind the bedroom door and huffed. Aunt Jo was once again bellowing her name from the bottom of the kitchen stairs, threatening her over food Aja hadn’t asked her to cook.
“Everything’s back to normal.” Well, almost normal. She still couldn’t bring herself to sleep in her old bedroom. She didn’t know if it was because of the attack or if it was because she missed Jackson so much that she needed to be in the room where they shared their one night together. Either way, sleeping in one room while all her belongings were in another made getting ready in the morning a little hectic.
“Aja, you hear me calling you, gal?”
“Yessum.” Aja opened the door and called out. “On my way down now.”
She sped down the hall and took quick steps until she was in the kitchen. “Mmm, Aunt Jo, you have this kitchen smelling good. What’s on the menu?” She walked over to her aunt and kissed her cheek.
“If you’re lucky”—her aunt tipped her head to the right—“he is.” Aja followed the direction Jo indicated, and her knees nearly buckled when she saw Jackson Dean sitting at the breakfast table near the back window.
Aja turned to him, slowly walking toward the table as her stomach twisted in knots. Nearly two weeks had passed since they’d last spoken.
She took a deep breath and took the seat he pulled out for her. As they sat, her aunt placed two full plates in front of them, disappeared for a moment, and returned with a pitcher of orange juice and two glasses. “I’ll be at my cabin doing a few loads of clothes if you need me.”
“Yessum,” Aja replied. With a wink and a smile, Aunt Jo made her way down the hall and out the front door.
Jackson poured a glass of juice and slid it across the table for her. “Thanks,” Aja said. “Not that I mind you dropping by, but what brings you this way?”
“Well, I’ve been having a rough couple of days, so I opened your gift.”
Aja tried to curb the enthusiasm bubbling inside her. But lost the battle as the edges of her mouth curled into a smile. “Did you like what was inside?”
He dropped his gaze, and when he lifted it again, there was a spark of excitement in their depths. “I loved it, Aja. I don’t think anyone has ever given me a more thoughtful gift. I just—”
She held up her hand. “If you’re trying to tell me you can’t accept the pencils and pads I gave you, forget it. I refuse to take them back. And—”
“I have no intention of giving them back. I already used them.” He pulled one of the sketch pads she’d given him from the seat on the opposite side of him and handed it to her.
She opened it to another drawing of her. This one was more detailed than the other he’d created in this very room, and it took her breath away how he captured her likeness and her emotion as well.
“Shortly after I read your note, I sketched this.” He pointed to the drawing in her hand. “I kept thinking about what you said about being happy. And I realized the only time I seem to be happy is when I’m near you or drawing pictures of you.”
Aja’s heart beat faster. Was this happening to her?
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his, his warmth sending shocks of excitement buzzing through her.
“So I figured if I was going to listen to you and find the thing that makes me happy, I should probably start by coming to the source.”
Her trembling lips curved into a nervous smile. “I don’t know what any of this means, Jackson. What are you trying to say?”
He laughed and stood, pulling her to her feet with him. “I think the old folks call it courting. But if you need me to translate, in my very clumsy way, I’m trying to ask if you’d allow me the privilege of your company. Would you let me take you out on a date?”
Aja folded her arms, trying to contain her giddiness. She cleared her throat, amazed at how a small offering from one man could bring her such joy. “All right, Ranger. I’m game if you are. But are you sure you can handle me?”
He pulled her into his arms, cupping her cheek and leaning in close. “I can handle anything you’ve got.”
* * *
“Okay, we’re in Austin. We headed to Dirty Sixth?”
Jackson parked his truck before turning to her with a smile and shaking his head. Sixth Street was famous for its seemingly endless row of bars. If you were looking to tie one on in a loud, crowded place, you’d have your pick there.
