SEALed With a Kiss: Even a Hero Needs Help Sometimes... (32 page)

Pickett had often observed that hugs were metaphors. Her mother's hug was cool silk and Jean Nate, a quick tightening, a quicker release, efficient. Pickett hardly had time to bring her arms up to return the embrace before her mother held out her hand to Jax.

"You're Lieutenant Graham," she said, not waiting to be introduced. "I'm Mary Cole Sessoms, Pickett's mother. Pickett's sisters— except for Lyle, she lives in New York—will be here in a minute. We're so glad you could join our little impromptu family party."

Impromptu party.
Pickett nearly choked trying to stifle her snort. Jax would be as thoroughly grilled as the hamburgers by the time her mother and sisters left.

Not by a flicker of an eyelash would her mother reveal that she was avidly curious about the first man, ever, to stay with Pickett overnight. A steel magnolia if there ever was one, Mary Cole Sessoms had honed her people skills pulling the insurance agency back from bankruptcy after the death of her husband, then going on to make it a million-dollar producer annually.

Without appearing to question him, by the end of the day Mary Cole would know everything about Jax, from the date of his last tetanus shot to his bank balance.

Jax smiled at her mother with just the right mix of masculine appreciation and charming deference. The knit of his deep-yellow polo shirt molded to his powerful shoulders and set off his tan. He exuded a confidence so powerful it was clear he saw no need to prove himself. Pickett relaxed a little. He could handle her mother.

Pickett was sure her mother had arrived a few minutes before the others so she could size up Jax without distractions.

Jax now called Tyler over and introduced him, prompting him through the greeting ritual. Her mother's face flickered with surprise then approval at the evidence that he took his fatherly responsibilities seriously.

When they went into the house, Mary Cole excused herself to freshen up and Pickett moved around the living room, straightening pillows that were already straight and making infinitesimal adjustments to the clock and brass candlesticks on the mantel.

If her mother approved of Jax she'd have the wedding guest list made out by the end of the day. It would really be easier if she didn't approve. Then there wouldn't be so much explaining to do when he left. And yet she couldn't bring herself to hope her mother wouldn't like Jax, even if she was in for a big disappointment.

And there wasn't a thing she could say that wouldn't make the whole thing worse, either now or later. She sighed as she made a minute adjustment to the walnut-framed mirror over the mantel.

She felt Jax's heat behind her even before he fingered the fine, silky curls at the nape of her neck that had already escaped the tortoiseshell clasp.

"Is having your family come such an ordeal for you?" he asked softly.

Pickett shook her head, a motion that made the warm finger trail back and forth on the sensitive skin.

"I love my family. They're really good to me. But I'm the baby, and no matter what I do, I can't ever seem to grow up in their eyes. They don't think I can do anything right. Not
exactly
right, if you know what I mean."

"Pickett darling." Pickett jumped away from Jax. Good thing her mother had a habit of beginning to talk before she entered a room. "Don't you want to go fix your hair before Gracie and Jensen get here? You don't want Jensen to see your hair like that," she added kindly.

Why did her mother always do that? Why didn't she say, "I don't like the way you fixed your hair"? If she did, it would be possible to argue with her. Well, duh, her mother wasn't going to let an
argument,
for God's sake, get started. Oh no. Deflect the opinion onto someone absent. Then Pickett could know she didn't have her mother's approval and wonder if the brother-in-law she loved was secretly disapproving at the same time.

So what was new? It was just another of her mother's little confidence-destroying ploys. Okay. The important thing was not to get hooked into defending herself.

"You don't like my hair, Mother?"

"It's not that I don't like it. And you can't help it if this salt air makes hair as curly as yours just go wild."

Mary Cole patted her own discretely tinted waves. The short, sophisticated style suited her perfectly, and every hair was always in place. A good cut was all it needed to be perfectly obedient.

Did her hair look as bad as her mother said? Pickett stole a glance in the mantel mirror. In it she could see Jax leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed over his broad chest. He caught her eye in the mirror and sent her a look so heated, so full of sexual innuendo, that Pickett felt the back of her neck grow warm.

With a wicked grin he tilted his head and canted one eyebrow. "Wild thing," he mouthed.

Pickett stifled a giggle. She pulled the clasp from her hair and finger-combed it until her curls flew in golden exuberance. She laughed aloud.

"You know, Mom, you are absolutely right. My hair is wild looking. I've decided that's a Good Thing."

Mary Cole's lips tightened fractionally. "Well, of course, dear, if that's how you really want to look."

Pickett should have known that asserting her own preference wouldn't make her mother back off. In fact, she would probably start a discussion of Pickett's hair at the dinner table. Her sisters would give lots of kindly advice about how to subdue her impossible hair. Her brothers-in-law would look embarrassed or bored. And Pickett would sit there feeling unkempt and inept.

Her confidence was already sinking like a balloon losing helium. She could hear the rest of the party coming in the back door. Once again she reminded herself that all she had to do was get through the afternoon.

"Pickett." Pickett was enveloped in her oldest sister Grade's hug. "You look so well! But you've lost more weight." Pickett's weight had been stable for two years. "You're not letting yourself get too thin, are you?"

Without responding, Pickett turned to welcome Gracie's husband, Jensen. He hugged her, then bent his six-foot-four-inch frame to kiss her cheek. "Hey, Little Bit. You look great," he whispered, "and don't let anybody tell you different." He flicked one of her golden curls and winked. "Cute curls," he added loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Pickett gave Jensen an extra squeeze. What would she do without his steady encouragement? It was he who had silenced her family's objections to her taking over the Snead's Ferry property. Without his support she would never have heard the last of why her moving to Snead's Ferry was a bad idea. Though to be fair, once the decision was made, everyone had contributed some sweat to restoring the Victorian-era farmhouse.

"Looking
go-ood!"
Pickett's other brother-in-law, Bobby, hugged her a little closer than was strictly necessary. He didn't mean anything by it, and Pickett had perfected getting an arm caught between their bodies years ago; nevertheless she was always glad when it was over. His wife, Sarah Bea, eyed Pickett's figure-hugging, scoop-neck coral tee and shell-pink jeans. A tomato-red belt drew attention to her tiny waist. Her expression made it clear that whatever she thought, she wasn't going to say anything ... now.

Jax didn't like the over-hearty tone with its crude innuendo of the guy who had just come in. He also didn't like the way the man had grabbed Pickett. She wasn't liking it much either. Jax didn't know what to make of some of Pickett's reactions to her family, but he was sure of his opinion of
this
joker who was trying to cop a feel.

Jax eyed the new arrivals. Pickett's sisters strongly resembled their mother and each other. All three women were several inches taller than Pickett, slender and long limbed. Both sisters had an elegant refinement they clearly got from their mother. Sarah Bea's hair was dark blonde, streaked with highlights, Gracie's was lighter. All had the family blue eyes.

Somehow, to Jax's eyes, even though Pickett was shorter than her sisters, almost tiny, she was
more.
Her coloring was more vivid with the bright gold hair, sparkling ocean-blue eyes, pure peaches-and-cream skin. Her shape was curvier, more intensely feminine. Her voice was warmer.

"I brought soft drinks," announced Sarah Bea gaily. "I knew Pickett wouldn't have any, and I also brought hamburger buns everybody could eat."

Jax idly picked up the package Sarah Bea placed on the kitchen counter and read the ingredients. Wheat flour. Hamburger buns everybody but Pickett could eat. He coolly raised an eyebrow at the second-oldest sister. Had she
meant to
imply that 'everybody' didn't include Pickett?

Sarah Bea intercepted his look and colored. "I meant, enough hamburger buns for everyone
to
eat."
Not good enough.
He hardened his gaze. "Well, what with us descending on her with no warning, I knew she wouldn't have enough." So, she at least acknowledged that they had come uninvited. Jax was considering whether to let up on her when she added, "That's what I meant about the soft drinks, too. My goodness, who keeps enough food on hand for ten people?"

"Nobody, that's who." Gracie efficiently swept up the conversation and began to organize the contents of plastic bags. "That's why we all brought stuff.

"I also brought paper plates and napkins, since Pickett doesn't have a dishwasher." She put a head of lettuce in the refrigerator. "How can you stand this refrigerator, Pickett? It was old when I was young. When are you going to remodel this kitchen?"

"When I have the money." Pickett's voice was carefully expressionless.

"I've offered Pickett the money for new appliances several times," said Mary Cole, coming in time to hear Grade's question. "I hate to see her having to live like this."

"You never offered to buy me new appliances." The arch tone Sarah Bea tried for didn't really disguise the edge in her voice.

"You have a husband."

Jax had heard enough. He struggled to keep his rising ire from showing in his voice. "I think I'll start the grill and check on Tyler." He put a hand on Pickett's stiff shoulder. There was a tiny flinch under his hand that told him her calm demeanor was a fagade. He slid his arm around her and pulled her to him. None of the group assembled in the kitchen missed the gesture. Good. "Come out to the garage with me. You can show me where everything is."

"You know where everything is. Why did you really get me out here?" Pickett's eyes sparkled with a rogue-ish invitation, as Jax pulled open the door of the shed at the back of the garage. Jax wasn't fooled. Even with him she was pretending she could ignore her family's harping.

Still, he wasn't going to let slip an opportunity to kiss her. Jax leaned against the workbench, widened his stance, and pulled Pickett between his legs. "So I could do this." He nibbled her bottom lip.

"That's exactly what they think we're doing," she said against his mouth.

"Mm-hmm." He angled his head to deepen the kiss.

After a few moments she broke the kiss and tucked her head under his chin with a sigh. The weariness of the gesture made Jax's arms tighten around her. "Why do you let your family treat you like that? You let them put you down and criticize you with every sentence. You wouldn't put up with that from me."

Pickett shoved at his shoulders. Though he loosened his hold, Jax refused to let her go.

Pickett leaned back so she could meet his eyes. "So now you've joined the millions who know better than I do how to live my life?"

Her snapping with so little provocation indicated how upset she was, but it made his point for him. "That's what I mean. If I step out of line, you let me know it in a heartbeat. You don't allow me or other people not to treat you with respect."

"So what am I supposed to do? No matter what I say in reply to their little digs, I'm wrong. And then I'm wrong for not knowing how wrong I am. The best thing I can do is just ignore it."

Jax tightened his hold again, nestling her head against his chest. She was so little, so soft. He was furious all over again at how her family wounded this gentle, sweet, kind woman with tiny cuts and sly slights. He couldn't recall ever feeling so protective of anyone. He'd like to throw the lot of them off the property. He'd like to keep her next to him and never let any of them near her.

Unfortunately that wasn't going to happen. This wasn't his property and he wouldn't be staying. He absentmindedly rubbed the small of her back in little circles, dropping kisses on her hair.

"That's the trouble, love. Ignoring it isn't the best thing. If you let them get away with it, they'll just do it again, and again."

Pickett pushed out of his arms. This time he let her go. She pulled the grill from its corner and began to brush cobwebs away with a cloth from the workbench. "So what am I supposed to do? Defending myself doesn't work. You say ignoring doesn't work—and I admit you're right. What do I do?" She lifted the cover of the grill exposing a network of clinging webs and several daddylonglegs spiders. "Yeeech!"

Jax took the grill cover away from her. He knocked the spiders away then ran the cloth around the dome. "Demand respect. Do that Queen Pickett thing."