SEALed With a Kiss: Even a Hero Needs Help Sometimes... (31 page)

He had been dismissed by admirals, and wing commanders, once by a two star general

Jax rounded the corner of the house at a slow jog, letting his body cool down from his run. The sun had just cleared the pines, and heavy dew sparkled in the grass.

Yep. He'd been dismissed before, but never more effectively than by a one-hundred-pound woman with a mop of golden curls dressed in his faded navy blue shirt. It was soft and thin from many washings and clung to the slope of her breasts. It had hung down to her forearms and almost to her rosy knees. She should have looked ridiculous, like a child dressed in her father's clothing. Instead she did that queen thing with her head and proceeded to hunt through her underwear as if his presence was not significant enough to be an irritation.

It had turned him on so completely he had to bend over to scoop up his discarded shorts and turn his back to put them on.

He was right. She said so. So why did he feel like he had lost out on something—besides the obvious, of course. Damn, she turned him on. But it wasn't just that a pleasant interlude had gotten derailed. It was ... what?

I was a shit

You're not one now What happened?

She'd sure changed her opinion of him since last night. Today she thought he was a shit and worse. That remark about him deserting Tyler still burned with an acid sting.

He wiped sweat from his forehead with the hem of his T-shirt. His running shoes were plastered with leaf fragments and so wet from dew they squished. He dropped to the porch steps to untie them.

But what if she was right?
About Tyler, he meant. He brushed away the fear that she was right about him. She had a way of anticipating what Tyler felt that he couldn't match. In the past several days he had gotten used to sharing the responsibility for Tyler with someone. Someone whose opinion he respected. Not that Tyler was her responsibility. But somehow they shared him in a way that he and Danielle never had. He would hate to give that up when he left, but Tyler would be with his grandmother. There wouldn't be much point continuing. For now though he would need to do stuff to make sure Tyler knew he wouldn't be deserted. And the person who could help him most was Pickett.

He shouldn't have said it was none of her business. He wondered how mad she still was.

Coffee and two white mugs waited on the counter when he padded barefoot through the kitchen, but the house was silent. Upstairs he found Tyler still asleep, but without Lucy. Pickett must be outside with the dogs somewhere.

He tracked her footprints through the dew-wet grass to the garage to find her wrestling a sack of corn into the 30-gallon garbage can she stored the duck's food in.

"I'm glad you're here." She smiled at him and pushed an errant lock of hair from her forehead. "I keep Quackers's food in this can so it won't attract raccoons and rats, but I dumped it in upside down and now I can't get to the tape to open it."

She was doing the same thing she had been doing ever since they'd argued. Not pouting, perfectly friendly, in fact, and yet ...

Jax pulled up the large sack of feed, reversed it, dropped it back in the can, and then dexterously pulled the string that released the tape.

He replaced the metal lid and turned to face her. "Can we talk?"

"Sure." She started toward the door, angling her body to go wide around him. "Is Tyler up yet?"

"He was still sound asleep when I looked." Jax planted himself in front of Pickett again. "Look, about this morning. Can we get back to where we were?"

"Where we were." Her eyes searched the exposed beams of the shed, while she pretended to think it over. "Having sex, you mean?" She smiled brightly. "Sure. Why not?"

She was still doing it. That thing. Smiling, even meeting his eyes, but not really. She was deliberately misunderstanding him, but still, it ticked him off—her acting like the sex hadn't meant anything. Like it meant no more than pouring a cup of coffee or passing the toast.

He grabbed for his patience. "Don't be dismissive. But since you brought it up, that wasn't just sex. It was—you know—amazing. Wasn't it? Tell me you know it was more."

"Well, we already agreed you're the one with experience." She shrugged but he could tell she was thinking about it. Remembering.

At last Pickett's ocean eyes met his, really met his, and softened.

"Okay," she said.
Yeah, that was it, the soft eyes, soft smile.
"Okay, it was amazing. I didn't know it could be like that."

He pressed for more. "And it wasn't just physical. It was talking and just being together. Can we get that back?"

Pickett let out a big breath.

"Listen." Jax stepped closer. "I'm a SEAL. There are some harsh realities that go with that. And they're not going to change. I know you don't like what I'm doing with Tyler," he lifted a hand, dropped it back to his thigh, "but can you accept that I'm doing the best I can?"

"I've already apologized," she pointed out firmly.

"I know. And I'm apologizing now, I think."

Pickett's eyes gleamed. "You
think?"

Jax grinned in acquiescence. "All right. I am apologizing. I won't tell you to butt out again."

"But you were in the right. I stepped over the line. Where Tyler will live is not my decision to make."

"I wasn't right. We had something good going. We still can. For as long as I'm here, I need and want you to talk to me about Tyler. I want to do the best I can, even if it's not up to your standards. Can you deal with that?"

Pickett was silent a long time. Jax remained silent too. He had said everything he could think of to say. Sometimes you just had to let people make up their own minds.

At last her mobile features settled, and she sighed as if she had come to a conclusion. She didn't look especially happy.

"Pickett?"

She lifted eyes that were both wise and sad. "There's a whole world full of children that are not being raised according to my standards," she said slowly. Then in one of her agile shifts, she smiled self-deprecatingly. "And when I have children of my own, they will probably be among that number. So, even if you're not absolutely perfect, I guess I can deal with it."

He wanted to crush her to him. He wanted to pull her down on the cracked concrete and ravish her completely. He wanted to shout in triumph, but the thoughtful little smile that played around her mouth made him tip her chin up very, very gently. She was back with him, on his side again, but not all the way. He couldn't push it.

Until she smiled into his eyes.

Then he kissed her with the hunger that had gnawed at him for over an hour. Gnawed at him a long, long time. Maybe forever.

She tasted of coffee and mint toothpaste and some kind of certainty in an uncertain world.

Uh-oh.

As soon as the kitchen phone rang, she knew it was her mother.

Pickett was in the laundry sorting yet another load of clothes, amazed at how many outfits Tyler dirtied in a day, not to mention how towels piled up, and now, sheets.

Pickett was supposed to call as soon as the hurricane was over, but she hadn't even thought of it until this minute. She slammed the lid of the washer, and dashed for the phone, but Jax answered it before Pickett could stop him.

"Lieutenant Graham," he growled in that indescribably military way.

Pickett's mind squirreled frantically for how she was going to explain Jax's presence to her mom.
Just tell her the truth and let her deal with it Yeah, like that was going to happen.
Pickett would never hear the last of it. It would be one more proof of her flawed judgment, one more instance of Pickett's eccentric lifestyle.

"No, ma'am," Jax was saying. "Nothing's wrong. We came through the hurricane just fine ... No, ma'am, no damage to the house ... You didn't have to worry, Pickett wasn't alone, I was here ... Yes, ma'am, the whole time ... Sure, I'll get her."

Pickett allowed her knees to give way and laid her burning cheek on the cool metal of the washing machine lid. That's how Jax found her.

"Um, Pickett? Are you okay?"

Pickett nodded, rubbing her face against the coolness. She started to rise up then slumped back.

"Your mother is on the phone."

"I know." Disgusted at her own cowardice Pickett pushed herself upright and swiped her hair out of her eyes. "I wish you hadn't answered it."

"Sorry, I didn't know it would be a problem. She seems like a nice lady. She's real concerned about you."

Pickett smiled wearily. She toyed with asking Jax to tell her mother she would call back, but it really wouldn't help to put it off. She might as well face the music.

Jax eavesdropped on Pickett's side of the conversation with unabashed curiosity. This was a side of her he'd never seen.

At last Pickett hung up the phone and turned to him.

"Okay, this is the plan." She sounded like a general. "You vacuum the downstairs and I'll clean the bathrooms. Then I'll mop the kitchen floor while you get all your stuff out of the bedroom. Make sure that you empty
all
trash. Do you take my meaning?"

"We're getting rid of the evidence?" Jax hazarded a guess. "But why?"

"Because my mother and as many of my sisters as she can collect will be here in two hours," Pickett said grimly.