Morgan winked at her with a grin, flashing his dimples. “I’m not.”
The guys were irreverent company and a nice distraction, cracking jokes and keeping the mood light-hearted. It felt good to pull out her rusty smile again; Leah was relieved it still worked. The quick banter forced her to concentrate and ignore the devil-voice whispering in her ear to check on what Jackson was doing.
When Dougie and Liam strolled to the bar for another round of drinks, Florence gave Leah a nudge. “We can kick them into touch if you’d prefer. Those boys could make themselves welcome at almost any table here.” Her gaze followed Liam Morgan, lit with a cloaked interest Florence did her best to hide.
Leah shook her head. “No, they’re fine. It’s not exactly a hardship to put up with them.”
“If it helps any, your grumpy landlord is scowling so hard he might pull a muscle.”
“I have no interest in provoking Jackson.”
“Really? That’s all I’d want to do.”
Leah let out a low snort. “OK, I have a little interest in provoking him—he deserves it. But mainly, I want to pretend for one evening he doesn’t exist. I didn’t imagine I’d have to try to do that with him at the other end of the bar, though.” With superhuman effort, she refrained from turning around, the heat of Jackson’s stare burning like a laser between her shoulder blades.
Dougie and Liam returned and the conversation picked straight back up. They recounted a recent call to an alcohol-fueled disturbance at the local pool and spa exhibition where Dougie had been forced to handcuff a man who had turned out to have only one arm.
“I panicked and cuffed him to my own wrist. It made the next hour extremely uncomfortable for us both. But he’d upended one of the refreshment tables, punched a hole through an advertising board, and was still swinging, so he didn’t give me any choice.”
“You’ve never seen anyone look more mortified than when he reached for the guy’s other arm and it wasn’t there.” Liam chuckled into his beer.
“Fuck off,” Dougie retorted, his good nature unshaken. “I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”
Leah took advantage of the break in the conversation to excuse herself. “I need the restroom. Won’t be long,” she mouthed to Florence.
The pool game over, Jackson, Sam, and Kash were nursing drinks at a circular table. Pinned by a pair of blue eyes that flashed and seared like a blowtorch, Leah missed her footing and tripped on a completely flat section of flooring. Ever since he’d come back for the barbecue, he’d avoided looking at her at all. Now, twice in one night, he’d run a sweeping glare over her face like he didn’t know whether to tear into her or wrap his hands around her throat.
Jackson pushed himself up from his chair and, when he started toward her, Leah panicked. Swerving from her intended path, she veered away from the washrooms and pushed through the main exit instead. Outside in the lot, she had less than ten seconds to drag in a steadying breath before the door flew open and Jackson stepped out.
Leah wrapped her arms around her upper body, holding herself together, another layer of armor between her heart and the man who had bruised it so badly.
Chapter 45
Jackson
Now she was in front of him and they were alone, he had no idea what he planned to say. Jackson shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing he’d been strong enough to resist the urge to follow her. He ran greedy eyes over her denim-covered legs, the crimson tank top hugging her curves, and the wild ebony curls tumbling loose over her shoulders. A savage jealousy snarled inside him.
“Does Matt know about your double date?” He hated the ugly undertones in his own voice.
“It’s not a date. They’re just some guys Florence knows.” Leah’s fingers twisted the ring on her thumb.
“They look like trouble.”
That made her laugh but there was no humor in it. “They’re police officers, Jax.”
He growled and stared at the door. “Police officers are the worst.”
Now she did raise her eyes to his face. The resigned disappointment in them made him feel even more like crap than he did already. “You don’t get to be snide or judgmental. You decided for both of us we were over.”
Jackson wanted to argue. He wanted to bring up Matthew and explain how seeing her with her ex-boyfriend had felt like lemon juice on already shredded skin. But his insecurities held his tongue. Leah was smart, well read, and funny. As bright and colorful as a handful of sea glass, as mind-blowingly sexy as—well, there was no comparison. He was gray, like Matt had said. Not as clever as Dominic had been, not as popular. All he had to interest her was the house. When he sold Amity Court, he’d lose her anyway. And, in the meantime, the ominous reach of Landon Peake threatened to drag Leah into their professional nightmare. He was screwed all ways around. But, God, these weeks without her had been agony. He was floundering in the dark.
On top of all of that, he’d hurt her. Just like he’d warned Matt not to. He’d been trying to protect himself when he’d told her not to come to the silent auction, but he’d torn her down to do it. He’d made her feel inferior. And that was unforgivable.
Leah rubbed her arms. Was she cold? He couldn’t stand the thought that she might be cold. Jackson stepped forward and placed his hands over Leah’s; hers instantly fell away. She stifled an objection and lifted her chin, wariness fighting the flash of resistance in her eyes. He ached to soothe them both. Close enough to reacquaint himself with that blessed freckle that tortured him with its presence, he drank her in like a groupie, her familiar pear-scented perfume calming and inflaming his senses at the same time. The long silence spread between them, heavy and raw.
Resolution and hurt trickled away, replaced by a need so explosive it could have powered the National Grid. A rasp tore from Jackson’s throat, widening Leah’s eyes. She tried to take a step away from him but he couldn’t let her go. Hating himself for it, he gripped her tighter and suddenly she was moving in the opposite direction. Into him, against him. He hesitated for a split second—was he forcing her? Had he pulled her? But Leah’s body hit his chestand she grabbed him, her hands tugging him closer. Her fingers reached for the back of his head and dragged it down so she could press her mouth to his.
Jackson lifted her, wrapping her legs around him. Leah’s thighs in his grasp, the velvet sweep of her lips, drove every other thought from his mind. He’d been so fucking jealous all night. So envious of the people who had her attention, her smiles, her time. It was beyond rational how much he craved being near her. For these moments, before sense prevailed, he wanted to forget all the reasons why there should be distance between them. Why he could not have Leah clamped to his body night and day like this.
