SEALed With a Kiss: Even a Hero Needs Help Sometimes... (25 page)

"Why didn't you order a decent meal?" Jax challenged Pickett, his voice sharp with irritation. "You don't have to diet all time. You're slender enough."

Another time, another subject and Pickett would have responded with a request for him to mind his own business. But now Pickett felt the too familiar slide of distance forming between them. Here it came. She avoided eating at fast-food places not only because her choices were limited, but also because in the land of sandwiches the strangeness of her choices really stood out.

She put down the hamburger with lettuce and tomato wrapped in paper instead of a bun. The low-carb craze was a godsend to people like her, but for different reasons.

It shouldn't be a big deal.

It
wasn't
a big deal.

And yet when she told people, especially vigorous, physical people like Jax, why she avoided certain foods, she could feel their withdrawal. Suddenly they were on one side of world, and she was on the other. They were the strong, she was the weak. Pickett knew what would happen now. The masculine interest she had felt— that warm awareness of herself as desirable that sped up her heartbeat and made her muscles go loose—would disappear.

Jax could be pretty blunt, but he wasn't unkind. He wouldn't say, "You're history, kid." But that's how it would be. The taste of disappointment was sharp on her tongue as she met his narrowed granite-gray gaze.

"I have celiac disease. I can't eat any food made from wheat."

Celiac disease. She was the picture of radiant health. Could something deadly be stalking her from the inside? Suddenly Jax's heart was thudding so hard he could feel the pulse in his fingertips.

"Are you sick? Are you going to die?" Trust Tyler to zero in on the question. Tyler's face was white. Jax wondered if his own face was equally colorless.

"No, sweetie." With a tender stroke Pickett pushed back the lock of dark hair that had fallen over Tyler's brow. "I'm not going to die. As long as I don't eat certain things—like sandwiches— I'm fine."

Jax found he could breathe again. She wasn't going to die. But now he felt like an ass. "I'm sorry, Pickett. I was out of line."

Pickett smiled sadly. "It's okay. I probably should have said something before. I know my eating habits look weird," Pickett laughed in self-deprecation, "or very high maintenance."

Jax felt himself coloring. That's exactly what he had thought. That she was rich, bossy, prissy, and high maintenance.

Now he knew she was independent, hardworking, and the
prissy
came off with the business clothes.

She definitely tended to be bossy, but he now thought of it more as ballsy She didn't so much order people around as simply take over.

"What will happen if you do eat sandwiches?"
Go for it, kid,
Jax silently urged Tyler on. Tyler's endless questioning was coming in handy for once.

"It would make me feel bad."

"Why?"

"Well," Pickett glanced apologetically at Jax, "it's really not suitable for dinner-table conversation."

"Go ahead. He's a kid and I'm a SEAL. Neither one of us has delicacy issues."

Pickett turned back to Tyler. "There is stuff in bread, called gluten, that destroys my intestines. Do you know about intestines?"

Tyler nodded vigorously. "Guts. I saw some guts one time. It was yucky." Tyler appeared to think for a moment, then laid a small hand on Pickett's arm. "Are
your
guts going to come out?"

Pickett repressed a smile. "No. My guts are fine, now."

"And you'll get all better and then you can eat sandwiches."

"No. I can never eat sandwiches, or cookies, or cakes, or anything that has wheat flour in it, ever again."

"Never ever?"

"Never ever."

"Is wheat the only thing you can't eat?" Jax asked.

"I can't eat anything made from any grain that has gluten in it. Rye, barley, malt, oats all have gluten. So, no beer, no whiskey, et cetera." Pickett shrugged. "Fortunately, I never cared for them anyway."

Jax rapidly reviewed the items he had seen in her cabinets and refrigerator. That explained the tasteless crackers, the weird snacks like taro chips. "But wait, there's beer in the fridge and you have bread."

"The beer has been in the refrigerator for six months. My brother-in-law likes it. And I keep a loaf of bread in the freezer to make sandwiches for guests." She kept food that she couldn't eat so that other people wouldn't be deprived in her house.

With chagrin, Jax remembered that she had served him and Tyler toast, and if he had noticed she didn't eat any herself, he'd only thought she was picky and as absorbed about perfecting her body as Danielle.

New respect mingled with his always-simmering desire as he admired her shining eyes and glowing skin.

She took a bite from her hamburger and looked up to find his eyes on her. "What?"

Jax made no effort to disguise the heat of his wanting, and in a moment had the satisfaction of watching the coral-rose tint of her cheeks deepen. Her eyes widened. She drew in a sudden breath. The dimple at the corner of her mouth appeared. "Oh."

Bored with adult talk, Tyler shoved his half-eaten burger away. "I want to play on the slides."

Did that kid have timing or what? "Go on outside then." Jax turned to Pickett.

She, however, glanced at her watch, then smiled apologetically.

"Jax, we need to leave if we're going to get to the house before the mattress does."

"Right." Jax swung Tyler up in his arms. "No slides for you, pal. We've got a bed to put together."

Pickett had just finished dusting the bed then wiping it with a damp cloth, which she insisted on doing on the porch, when the lights from the mattress delivery truck pierced the gathering dusk.

Tyler was shrill with excitement, racing upstairs to his room and back in an attempt to be part of every bit of the action. From a vantage point in the wide hall, Pickett listened to her house ringing with deep male voices and heavy male treads. Her house or not, at some point Jax had become in charge.

In minutes boxes were moved, the bed and mattress set up, and the delivery men sent on their way with tips and thanks.

Tyler was almost beside himself with joy. If, to Pickett's eye, the room looked bare with no curtains, no rugs, no pictures, and only one piece of furniture in it, Tyler found no fault with that, and proclaimed this to be the best bedroom in the world.

At last the bed was made and Tyler tucked into it, a tiny lump in its vast expanse. His eyes were drooping long before Pickett had reached the end of
Monster Trucks.
Pickett and Jax turned out the light, and leaving the door open, tiptoed away.

Twenty minutes later the strangeness of having Tyler both silent and apart had gotten to the both of them. Exchanging sheepish smiles they crept back up the dark stairs to peek in on the sleeping child.

The rising moon spilled light through the curtain-less windows, painting silver edges on tiny out-flung arms and legs. Completely abandoned to sleep, Tyler had no awareness of the two adults watching him from the doorway.

A hint of a tender smile played around Pickett's eyes. She had the most smiling eyes of anyone he had ever seen. At the fast-food place tonight Jax had seen that for all her frankness and openness, there were parts of Pickett that she withheld. Suddenly he wanted to know what called that smile to her eyes. Careful to move slowly, he touched the tiny crinkles. "What are you thinking about?"

"Having a bed really was important to Tyler."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I argued with you about it. Forgive me?"

"For what? You weren't in the wrong."

"No, I wasn't. But I didn't understand—I misinterpreted what was going on. And by arguing I blighted some of your happiness and excitement. I'm sorry for that."

Jax pondered what she had said. What
was
she saying?
Happiness and excitement blighted?
Having his motives questioned had hurt. More than he would have thought. He could see her point of view, but he thought she had a better opinion of him than that. And he had wanted to do something nice for her. She had already been so generous to him and Tyler.

Nobody had ever apologized to him before for blighting his happiness. His eyes were suddenly hot and stinging.

He had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Um, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay. Moments like that are precious and fragile, and I stomped all over it." She pressed her lips together. "I'm not saying I think I
could have
handled it better, just that I wish I had."

The honesty of that got to him. He slid his arm around her, resting his hand just below the curve of her waist.

"You know what really bothered me? I wanted to do something nice for you. I wanted to do something that would add to your life. You've been kind to Tyler, and generous. We've invaded your home, and here we were taking the invasion even deeper. And before you say I don't owe you, it wasn't about owing. I just wanted to give you something."

"Oh boy. Now I'm really sorry." In the pinkish glow of the nightlight he could see that her eyes were full of unshed tears. "Thank you for the bed. It is beautiful and it is exactly what I wanted." A tear spilled down the curve of her cheek. "I hope my thank you is not too little, too late."

Jax pulled her closer. "It won't be if you give me a kiss." Even in the dim light he was close enough to see the sudden widening of her eyes, the slight stiffening. Oh damn. That wary look again. Suddenly he was tired of it. Tired of what it said about him. Tired of having her slide away.

Letting her feel his superior strength and his determination, he gently, inexorably drew her closer. "Look, you can either trust me to be straight with you or you can't. Decide which it is now."

Slowly he lowered his mouth, never letting his eyes leave hers. He could feel her breath on his face, see the gold flecks in her eyes, but he didn't close the distance until he felt the tiny softening of her body against him.

He smiled. "You're welcome," he murmured and settled his lips on hers.

Keep it slow. You got her to come this far, don't spook her.
How many women had he kissed, never caring for one minute if he was inside their defenses? But with Pickett, he cared.