The Heart (5 page)

“Yeah,” I agreed easily with a nod, knowing I would do none of those things.

“Jack will need someone here or close by just in case he’s got any questions. He’s really got his shit together and knows what he’s doing, but I told him where to find you.”

“At home.” I smiled ironically.

“Yeah,” she said as she pulled her dark hair into a smart bun then fastened it on top of her head.

“That’s okay, right?” She eyed me with caution, still fearing I would break down at any moment. I hated that I made her feel that way at any point. I was almost sure those days were safely behind me.

“Of course,” I said as Dean pulled up and got out of his sleek Jag to open the door for Dallas. Excitement danced all over his handsome features as he gave me a killer smile.

“Morning, Rose.”

“Morning, Dean,” I said as he pulled his wife to him for what looked like a promising kiss. I felt myself sink further into a pit of despair and rolled my eyes at my own selfishness.

Whatever, I can totally do time off.

Dallas turned back to me, a thought I was sure I didn’t want to be voiced crossing her mind. “You know
Jack
is staying at a motel just down the highway. He’s probably alone at night and could use a little company.”

“I’m not going to bone the subcontractor, Dallas.” Dean chuckled as he opened the trunk, fidgeting with their packed bags.

Dallas looked at me pointedly. “You could do worse.”

“Fine, so he’s hot as sin, but from what I could tell, he doesn’t have much of a personality. He’s all business behind that body, and I’m not into boring. I’m boring enough.”

Just as the words passed my lips, we heard the rumble of a motorcycle approach, and the three of us looked toward it in confusion. Jack pulled up on a newer model Harley, completely unaware of his audience. His eyes were hidden behind aviators, and he was jean-clad with a simple white t-shirt. He was a wet dream as he tapped out his kickstand in old dusty work boots and killed the ignition. I stood stunned for a moment before my sister cleared her throat. Hesitant to look in her direction, both Dean and Dallas stared at me with amused expressions, Dean even more so as he tapped the hood of his Jaguar with a lifted brow.

“Yeah, I can see how you wouldn’t find him interesting,” Dallas said with a knowing smirk. “Now look, honey,” Dallas said sarcastically, “all the grown-ups are occupied this weekend. You are just going to have to find a way to entertain yourself.” She blew me a kiss before she joined Dean in the car. Just as she shut her door, he pushed an exaggerated foot on the gas and shot out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell, honking as they passed Jack. I laughed at them before I caught sight of Jack and fully drank him in.

I could still feel the rumble of that bike vibrate through me as he approached with a lady-killer smile. “Was that Dallas and Dean? They said they might take off. I bet they’ll love Shreveport. It’s no Nola, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

Jack stopped to stand in front of me. The bright, early morning sun made me squint as I looked at him. With his shades still on, it was hard to gauge what he was thinking, and I suddenly felt like a slob. Very aware my hair was still wet, an involuntary shiver danced through the top of my shoulders. I held my hand up to shield my eyes and tilted my head to get a better look at him.

“Ah, so it was your idea for my sister and her husband to gamble away my niece and nephew’s future.”

“Guilty,” he admitted with a slow grin.

“Well,” I said, “good for you. I guess a guilty conscience doesn’t bother you.”

“Not often, no.” He smiled fully. “Everyone’s got to roll the dice at least once.” He looked toward the way of Dean’s now invisible car then back at me. “How’s that tongue of yours?”

I froze, completely affected by him and his clean scent: a mix of something heavenly with a little sun and sweat. Beads of perspiration knotted on the smooth white scar above his top lip, and I was tempted to wipe them away so I could get a better look.

“It’s much better. Thank you.”

Live a little. Ask him over for dinner. Something simple. You can make that four step goulash. It will be informal. It’s just dinner. He’s alone, you’re alone, just a simple invite. You promised yourself, Rose.

Jack cleared his throat just as an eighteen-wheeler made a slow climb to the circular drive in front of the center.

“Well,” Jack said as he stole a glance at the intrusive truck before he turned back to me, “that’s my cue.”

And I’d just missed mine.

Still standing in front of him, gathering my courage, I went to speak as he lifted his hands to his sunglasses, sliding them off slowly so our eyes met before turning them to place them on me with the same slow precision. “These look better on you. How about you hold on to them for me.”

Stunned at the personal gesture and relieved at the renewed ability of sight, I drank him in one last time. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

He nodded and tucked his full bottom lip under his teeth then scraped it slowly before he released it.

“You’ll find my phone number on an extra set of golf cart keys in the break room,” I added, throwing my shoulders back, a move I often did when I was nervous and had no need to be. Except the minute I did it, my chest bounced slightly and he noticed.

“Sounds good,” he said as the driver of the truck jumped out of the cab and walked toward us.

You are running out of time.

“Thanks for the loan,” I said as I pointed to the glasses like an idiot. His full smile was my reply as I dismissed myself then made my way back to the cart on shaky legs.

Loyalty is a bitch I would love to screw.

And as I watched Rose walk away, it’s what kept my feet planted and my lips off the pulse point that had jumped in her neck while she stood in front of me. Hair on fire, with help from the sun, her green eyes scoured me and made my chest raw. Her eyes weren’t so innocent in their assessment of me, either. Not once had she taken them away from my scar, but I didn’t hide it or shy away from it like I did years ago. I’d outgrown it. It had been a long damn time since I felt that strong of a pull for any woman. The minute I had her in my lap a few days ago, I’d wanted to close the gap, to taste and savor. Women were no easy feat for me, never had been. Looking at Rose made me want to forget that and dive in head first with no idea of how deep the water was. I’d ignored that urge and attraction enough times in my life to know I could handle it now.

But even as I thought that, I was reminded of why I was on Texas soil, sweating my ass off in the heat instead of being deeply lost in the Himalayas, a trip I’d planned six months ago.

I hid my grin as I took the clipboard from the truck driver, unable to keep from looking in the direction she left. Rose was in a league of her own. She was ambitious, determined, absolutely beautiful
…and Seth’s daughter.

I would be in and out in a matter of days. My suitcase was packed. I would still make my trip, even if the most beautiful thing about Texas had nothing to do with the landscape.

There are stupid things humans do and things that are the kind of stupid that we convince ourselves we can’t possibly do. For instance, my inability to put myself out of my misery for fear of imbalance and upsetting the stupid rules I’d laid down for myself when it came to mourning Grant. It was at least a hundred degrees outside, and I refused to jump into the pond. It was one of the Band-Aids I hadn’t ripped off yet. I’d never been in there without Grant. And like many
things
that I’d decided were
our
things, that was one of them. I fell in love with him on a day just like today.

“I’m not giving up,” he said, cutting his eyes at me as I remained in the water. “I might be a little ticked off with myself right now, bearing my soul to you like this, saying all these things I never thought I would say to a woman and making a damn fool of myself, but I’m not giving up.”

“I don’t know what to say, Grant.”

“Stay with me, here, today. That’s enough.”

I looked up at our live oak tree that was now encased by the deck and glanced at the initials he’d carved in it.

“Not today,” I said to myself. “Today is about Rose.” I sat back and rubbed more SPF 50 all over as the sun made mincemeat out of me. Twenty minutes later, mind racing with thoughts I didn’t want to deal with, I turned on my outdoor sound system and walked over to the running waterfall. The reservoir was far too small to take a dip in, but I pushed my hands through the running stream and splashed the chemical filled water all over my body.

“You’re being ridiculous!” I said as I eyed the pond like a cartoon animal would a juicy steak. Larry, Curly, and Moe, my pet ducks, floated across the beckoning oasis in mocking as I splashed around the recycled water, desperately trying to cool off. Even the running water had no chance in this type of sun. It was lukewarm at best. I walked out to the edge of the water and dipped a toe in.

“Rose, maybe you’ve convinced yourself you are incapable of love right now, or even worse, not worthy of it. Don’t let one dickhead cheat you out of what every single person on earth deserves.”

“And what’s that?” I whispered, completely leveled by his kiss.

“Love, baby, love. It’s your time to be loved, and I’m the one who’s going to do it.”

When I moved in, I’d promised myself when I would ask the family over, have barbecues, and teach little Grant and Annabelle how to fish. I swore I wouldn’t use the house as a museum or a shrine to the life I was supposed to live with the man who helped me dream it up. But those invitations to my family had yet to be sent. Grant and Anna’s fishing poles remained in the packaging untouched because I had failed to treat the house I lived in as anything other than the boneyard of dreams it was.

It was so fucked up because, in so many ways, I wanted the carpet stained a bit. I wanted a little wear and tear to show some signs of life in a house that was built with so much love and meaning behind it. I wanted to make it a home. In my mind, I could never leave it, but in reality, I couldn’t live fully in it... not yet.

I’d recently read in a book properly named
A Love so Tragic
that
“just because the person died doesn’t mean the love does
.” Those words had never been truer for me. And that’s how I’d lived for the past few years: in love without the object of my affection. Death had taken him away but what I felt for him remained. At first, it was a type of safety net for me, a way of keeping the promise to myself that I would never forget him. I made a conscious effort every day to remember every detail of our relationship. It kept Grant and I close, yet he was impossibly far away. Now, it was a ritual I cherished. The emotions that went along with remembering how it felt to be with him and to surrender to that type of love came with a pain so intense, it resonated with my breaths, and bliss so unique, it was impossible to explain.

I’d found something so rare with Grant Foster. It could never be replicated or replaced. Our life together was small in measure, though in my lifetime, it remained the most important piece. I hadn’t thrown my career or goals away when he died, and of that fact, I was proud. But as I lay on the deck, the thought occurred to me, as it did often, that I wouldn’t ever be whole unless I resumed the other part of living, the part that included a personal life, and one without Grant. It seemed a daunting feat even years later.

Unable to face the truth I’d presented to myself, I gave up on my pursuit of sun and took up residence on my bed, sorting through my Kindle, looking for a distraction. Medical journals, romance...erotica. I browsed through the smut-filled pages as I thought of the sex toy Jules had given me for my birthday. She’d shoved it in my locker at the hospital with a large bottle of Maker’s Mark
,
my favorite poison. The toy was still wrapped in plastic, and for a brief moment, I entertained the idea of self-gratification. If I thought I’d had a dry spell before Grant came and went, I was in an all-out drought at this point.