Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(16)

Look, it’s not that I don’t want to call my mother. It’s that I know, once I call her, I’m gonna hear a whole lotta crap about how I haven’t called her back. Then she’s gonna tell me about dinner again. That’ll be followed up by, oh, and Nickie’s going. And he and Mia can give you a ride, Jackson. It won’t be that bad, Jackson. All of that will lead into, Oh, Jackson, dear, when are you going to settle down and find someone to bring to dinner? Frankly, I don’t have time for it.

Dinner or dating.

“I will.”

“What are you waiting for?” my brother challenges me. Something I don’t typically pass up on.

“I—”

“Me.” The slightly agitating, mildly sultry voice of Emma Green is heard like an echo meant to kill brain cells. I almost think I’m imagining my way out of this conversation but there she is, not too far away, practically skipping toward us. My brother and I stop short with whatever we were about to get into, captivated by her friendly smile.

Too friendly, if you ask me.

“Green, what are you—”

“Sorry I’m late.” The flirtatious wink she flashes me is damn near welcoming. The knowing smile she gives my brother, even more so.

Is she high?

Doubtful. That’s not her M.O.

I should say something.

Mind your own damn business, comes to mind. That’s always a party favorite. Or, just a simple f*ck off would do nicely. As it is, I can’t form a single word for her. I’m too busy getting over the shock and awe of how pleasant she sounds. The black skirt and jacket she’s wearing hug her in all the right places. Her long legs. Wrap those f*ckers around me any day, woman. And the heels? Don’t even get me started on the heels.

Damn.

What is wrong with me?

“And you are?” Nick questions her with authority and curiosity. Mostly curiosity. I can tell he recognizes her; he just doesn’t know from where.

“Emma.” She extends a hand, and he takes it, gently.

“Nice to meet you, Emma.”

“Same, same,” she says. What’s up with the blushing? He’s not that charming. And he’s married.

“I’m afraid I have to steal Jackson from you…”

“Nick,” he offers. “Nick Stiles. I’m Jackie’s brother.”

“Oh.” Green looks surprised and intrigued all at the same time. Her eyebrows furrow, and I can almost see the inner workings of her brain starting to kick into gear. This would make a great story. Dirty cop helps cheapskate P.I. brother gain new business.

Only, she’d be wrong on both counts. As per usual.

“Something going on here I should know about, Jackie?” he asks me, in that teeth grinding way that only a brother, whose second favorite hobby is to get under your skin, can accomplish.

“Would you please—” I stop myself from jumping down his throat about the nickname. I don’t need Green learning anything about me to use as ammunition going forward.

Screw that.

“Nothing’s going on, Nick. We just—”

“Have a date.” The tabloid journalist in her makes stories up for a living so often she apparently doesn’t know when to stop.

“Ha!” I don’t mean to let the laughter slip but that was a good one. I can appreciate humor when I hear it. Even the lame type of humor coming from Emma Green.

Nick thinks I’m crazy, which is nothing new. “At one o’clock in the afternoon?” he challenges back to Green.

“It’s an early dinner.” She clears her throat. “Fourish, actually.”

Nick’s brow pulls together. So does mine.

Me too, bro. Me too.

“We still have to shop for something to wear,” she explains further.

Annnnnd… foul ball!

Nick’s hand parks itself against my torso.

“Shopping?” He points at me. “And you want me to believe he’s taking you to a restaurant?”

“We don’t—” I motion between Green and me to let him off the hook. He needs to know we don’t have shit going on.

“Have time to stand around here and chit chat.” Green beats me to the punch as she slides over to me and hooks an arm through mine. “You promised, and I’m going to have a very difficult time choosing something to wear to Bonefish.”

She pouts, and for a second, I envision her lips against mine.

Then I shake that f*ckery right out of my head.

What the hell?

Did she say Bonefish? Because, seriously, I hate seafood. Wait a minute. What the hell am I saying? I’m not taking her out.

Nick belts out a laugh as I try to figure out Green’s play here. “Good one,” he says. “You almost had me there.”

“No, it’s true,” Green assures him, unwilling to give up the ploy. “He lost a bet.” Her sex kitten smile disarms Nick enough to let her continue. I’m in awe of how quick to the draw she is, and I’m curious now. How far will she take this?

“See, he told me I couldn’t do more tequila shots than him last week at the Bull’s Eye. I assured him I could; he said we should make it interesting. I said okay. Ba-da-bing ba-da-bang, I won, and now he’s buying me an expensive dinner.”

My mouth is open; I feel the tug at my jaw. I also feel a slight sense of being impressed.