Sweet baby Jesus, he’d brought a pacifist hunting. “You ever go hunting with Craig?”
That was a silent snarl if he ever saw one. Her face got so scrunchy even her hair curled up tighter.
He put the safety on his shotgun and tucked it down at his side. “What’s wrong with Craig?”
“Mr. Daddy’s Favorite? Likehehad to work in college. Heknew Russ would hire him. But he’s always picking on me because I’m a girl.”
Jackson’s throat muscles worked. He’d herded lieutenants who left him wondering about the future of the Air Force, but not one of them, not even the LT who had his momma write him an excuse for his PFT, had left him unable to form a coherent response.
Louisa had that stubborn debutante pose going on, so he eventually snapped his own trap shut and went back to scanning the trees.
Louisa slouched beside him. “I’m just glad Uncle Sam sent you back here close enough for me to go hunting with someone who can handle a gun.”
He slid his eyes to her. Girl was all talk. He was sure of that.
But he couldn’t figure out why.
“We doing this again next Saturday?” she asked.
Never thought he’d be grateful for a buddy tying the knot, but Lance and Kaci’s wedding suddenly seemed like a vacation. “Busy next Saturday.”
Louisa made a girly snort. “It’s always something, isn’t it? Sunday then.”
“Sunday’s not looking too good either.” For Louisa. It was looking mighty good for Jackson. Anna Grace didn’t have classes SaturdayorSunday, and he hadn’t missed that internal war she’d been fighting between getting sleep and going home with him after coffee two nights ago.
Louisa gave him the psychic eye. “You’re not giving up hunting for a whole weekend because of a girl, are you?”
“Nope.” Far as he was concerned, he was giving up a whole hunting weekend to suffer through and recover from a wedding.
But when they headed their separate ways after Louisa had talked his ears deaf and scared all the squirrels away, she insisted he’d meet her Sunday. So he sent Craig a message asking him to watch out for her, then went home to Radish.
Empty-handed and a little empty-headed too.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Life went on, except when it went backward.
—The Temptress of Pecan Lane, by Mae Daniels
By the time Kaci’s wedding rolled around, Anna was waffling between utter sexual frustration and the giddy feeling that came from being thoroughly courted.
She mostly got why things with Jackson hadn’t progressed much since she fell in his trash can. He’d gone TDY and then hunting a couple of times. The one night they’d met for coffee, she’d been so exhausted that if she’d taken him up on his offer of a place to crash, she wouldn’t have made it past his front door, much less all the way to his bedroom. He’d seemed to understand when she insisted she’d stay at Kaci’s instead.
But he’d texted. And she’d texted back. And he’d arranged to have Kaci deliver a few more notes and another box of chocolates, so when she put Kaci and Lance’s wedding gift in her car, she put an overnight bag next to it.
She was wearing her favorite aubergine chiffon dress. The cut was borderline unfashionable, but no one would notice. Not with the bridesmaid dresses that Kaci’s mom had picked out. Besides, she loved the way the smooth fabric brushed over her legs.
And she already knew it went well with Air Force messdress.
Kaci had not only refused her offers of last-minute assistance, she’d forbidden Anna from arriving at The Harrington any earlier than twenty minutes before the ceremony. Something about her mother, Yankee interference, and everyone’s constitution. After the fallout of the last wedding Anna had attended at The Harrington, she was more afraid of infecting Kaci’s wedding with bad juju.
She arrived thirteen minutes before the ceremony. The parking spot she found two places down from Jackson’s truck had to be a good omen. Some of the tension that had popped up at the sight of the grandiose hotel melted away.
More tension dissipated when Jackson swung out of his truck the same time she stepped out of her car.
But then she spied someone who wouldn’t have been included on the guest list even if the wedding was in hell.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered.
