He glanced at Shadow in his stall, the horse staring at him, his large eyes casting a disapproving glare in Jackson’s direction.
“Any suggestions on how to fix this?” The horse bobbed his head and blew a harsh breath through his nostrils. Jackson was convinced the horse probably had a better suggestion than he could come up with. But since the ornery bastard seemed keen on keeping it to himself, Jackson waved a dismissive hand at the animal and made his way out of the stables and to the main house.
He figured he’d know what to say once he reached the back door. But sadly, he still didn’t understand how to fix this, other than to promise her nothing from her past could ever make him lose respect for her.
She was a phenomenal woman who’d suffered through incomprehensible emotional struggles. Instead of losing herself in the vices most people, including himself, fell prey to, she’d invested in others to heal herself. She might not see how beautiful that was, but for damn sure he did. He needed to tell her that, and hopefully that would be enough to convince her they could move forward together.
Losing Aja wasn’t an option. He’d had enough taken from him; he couldn’t let her end up being just another bad memory in his past.
She thought she was selfish, but Jackson was certain he had more hold on that title than she ever could. He’d allowed his pride to keep him closed off from the world, and it was because of Aja that he could experience anything other than suspicion and detachment.
She was special, and it was his privilege to be with her. He would do whatever it took to make this work.
Resolved and determined, he turned the knob and stepped inside. “Aja, baby, I need you to listen—”
“So y’all are at the ‘baby’ stage of things?”
Jackson watched Brooklyn standing at the sink washing out a dish.
“We’re beyond it.”
Brooklyn shut off the water and stared at him, scanning and computing information as she did. “You’re really into the boss, aren’t you?”
“Honestly, yeah. I don’t think I realized how much until a moment ago.”
Brooklyn laughed. “When you fucked up? Of course that would be the time you realized how good you had it. Such a damn man.”
He walked into the kitchen, standing behind the counter and tapping out an impatient rhythm with his fingers. “Brooklyn, no offense, but I’m not discussing this with you. Where’s Aja?”
She watched him through narrowed eyes over her shoulder, grabbing a hand towel to dry her hands, and faced him. “She was headed upstairs, but then I told her Mat called and asked her to meet him at his office. She grabbed her keys and left.”
“Dammit.”
“Give her time,” Brooklyn continued. “Whatever happened, she’s not ready to deal with it. That’s why she headed to Mat’s office. She needed time to process. The boss is smart. Whatever’s going on between you two, she’ll figure it out. And Mat is great at being a sounding board.”
Jackson tilted his head and assessed her for a moment. Brooklyn had a great poker face. He really couldn’t read her. “You’re speaking from experience?”
“Yeah,” she replied, dropping her eyes for just a second before walking over to the fridge. “By the way…” Jackson smiled at her less-than-smooth change of subject. “I just finished having a slice of Aja’s pineapple coconut cake,” Brooklyn said, “Why don’t you sit and have a piece? It will probably improve your mood and give you the chance to calm down before you go rushing off and doing something stupid.”
He lifted his hands. “Again, you speaking from experience?”
She shook her head. “Nope, my problem is the opposite. I’m too methodical. I plan everything, even the trouble I get into.”
They stared at each other, giving her statement time to marinate. He knew from her rap sheet she’d premeditated the murder of her brother-in-law. That was about as intentional as one could get. But that didn’t mean she didn’t know what she was talking about. If he chased after Aja right now, especially if she was with Mat, things would not go well.
“Sure. I’ll take a slice.”
“My name ain’t Aja. Ain’t nobody in here serving you. You want it, it’s in the fridge.”
Her pronouncement made him laugh, even though he didn’t feel much like laughing. “You know, Aja serving me has nothing to do with me being a man and everything to do with the fact she likes taking care of people. It’s embedded in her DNA.”
She laughed. “I know that. But I don’t suffer from that particular ailment. Get it yourself.”
He walked off to the mudroom, washing his face and hands before he reached inside the fridge. When he came back, he noticed the tattoo on Brooklyn’s upper right shoulder. He’d never seen it before. Probably because she usually had on a button-down shirt over her racer-back tank. But tonight that shirt was tied around her waist, likely to keep the sleeves out of the way as she washed dishes.
“That’s a cool tattoo. What does it say?”
“‘Tomorrow isn’t written.’”
