Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(45)

I wipe my mouth and turn to see her standing in my parents’ foyer. Fucking Emma Green is smiling and hugging my mother like she’s done it a thousand f*cking times.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I look to my brother for answers, instinctively knowing he’s got something to do with this shit. “What is she doing here?”

Ma’s shock and awe will have to wait.

Green hands her coat and purse over to my brother, and I notice her outfit. She’s still sporting jeans, but the top is slightly more formal than yesterday, and her hair is up in a wavy ponytail with curls dangling along the sides of her face. She’s like a chameleon, this woman.

Not that I’m complaining. The boots are a nice touch. I like the boots. Much better than the heels.

My sister-in-law comes barreling in from the dining room and wipes her hands before reaching out to take Green’s. She’s beaming, for Christ’s sake. “Hi, I’m Mia. Nick has told me so much about you.”

Really?

“How much could he have possibly told you after meeting her, what, once?” Seriously.

Green shakes hands with Mia only to be pulled into a welcoming squeeze.

What the blue blazing f*ck is happening?

“Don’t be mad, Jackie,” Green says in that playful tone she takes when she’s putting on a show for someone. My mother, most likely. “He called to give me the address when he figured you’d forget. Which you did.” She jokes as she makes her way over to me while I try to comprehend, on any level, where she gets off calling me Jackie. I hate it when Nick calls me that. Why in the mother of f*ck would she think I’d like it any better when she says it?

In front of me now, she reaches her hand out and softly touches my arm before making eye contact. Her perfume wafts, and I breathe it in like it’s oxygen. It’s not that flowery shit women usually wear. It’s clean. Fresh. I’m reminded of laundry outta the dryer. You know what I’m talking about.

I’m trying to place the other scent when she puts her lips against my cheek. It’s a surprise, yeah, but I gotta say, it’s a pleasant one. My hand slides around her waist naturally, and I tell myself it’s for show, but the truth is, it feels good.

Comfortable.

Does she kiss Connor like that? Does he hold her like this? Ever?

When she pulls away, her imprint is left against my skin. Warm and electric.

Surprisingly, I like it.

I must look like the world’s biggest idiot, standing there, silently questioning why my fake girlfriend is giving me a fake kiss that feels about as far from fake as you can get. Before I can question the motive behind that crazy, she whispers into my ear, “He got my cell number somehow. I couldn’t resist getting a glimpse into the private life of Jackson Stiles.”

I ignore the goosebumps her hot breath sends down my spine, and my eyes fly to Nick, who smirks and does the two-finger thing, pointing to his eyes first then to me.

It’s official.

I’m gonna f*cking kill him.

They’ll have an entire hour of Snapped dedicated to this night.

Then again, maybe not. Because, honestly, having Green press herself up against me to get close to my ear like that might be worth the uncomfortable situation Nick has put me in. I just hope she doesn’t notice the effect she’s having on me or my dick.

“It’s good to have you, Emma,” Ma interjects. My big bro apparently feels good enough about himself that he decides a wink is what I need before he walks off to put Green’s shit away.

I’m gonna need another drink.

“Where’s Dad?” Nick asks after he returns.

I take my jacket off. Running is futile.

Ma smiles and heads past me into the kitchen.

“He’ll be down soon,” she sings it, so I know something’s up. She only sings things when she’s trying to cover up the fact that she’s upset about something.

“What?” she asks, honest to God curious as to what I’m rolling my eyes about.

“Nothin’, it’s just typical.”

“Jack,” Nick warns. But you know what? Fuck that.

“You’re down here, busting your ass, for his damn birthday…”

“Watch your mouth, Jackson.”

“Hey, Emma.” Mia hooks a hand through Green’s arm. “Why don’t I introduce you to the twins?”

“Um.” She glances my way but allows Mia to lead her off into the other room. She never stood a chance.

Meanwhile, I turn to my mother.

“Sorry. So he’s where? In his room? Sulking?”

“He’s got a bad headache.”

“Bullshit.”

She slams her palm against the counter. “Jackson Odysseus Stiles, I will not say it again.”

What? She was big into Greek mythology when she had me.

I hesitate at her use of the middle name, but I decidedly head for the stairs. Nick takes a stance on the first step and blocks my way. As if his two-hundred-twenty pound frame could stop me.

“I’m f*cking saying something.” I don’t say it loud enough for Ma to hear. Nick doesn’t yell back either. We’ve gotten good at this over the years.

“No, you’re not.” He does, however, get close enough that I can smell the Dentine he’s been chewing.