I Want You Back (Want You #1)(10)

“Why me?”

“It’s not a line when I say I’ve never felt this kind of pull. I want to learn everything about you. Your likes, your dislikes. What makes you laugh. If you throw things when you’re angry. If your skin tastes salty sweet. If I can make you melt on my tongue.”

“Jaxson.”

“Lucy.”

“Even without understanding why you’re determined to keep things from me, I know we’re horribly mismatched, you and I.”

“You can’t know that after spending only an hour with me.”

“Exactly. And you can’t be that into me after just an hour either,” she volleyed back.

Dammit. I kept my temper in check, but that allowed sarcasm to escape. “You’re wrong. And your generalization is annoying.”

“Poor man. The fact I’m always right is annoying to those who are usually wrong.”

I laughed. “You don’t fool me, hot stuff. I figured out a couple of key things about you in the past hour.”

“Like what?”

“You get off on being argumentative.” I watched as she struggled—and lost—against the urge to argue with me.

“I’m only argumentative when the situation warrants it,” she retorted.

“You’re stubborn.”

“So? It’s better to be a mule doing the kicking rather than be the one getting kicked around.”

“You like me.”

That caught her off guard. “I sort of like you.”

“Then put that stubbornness aside and let me prove that we’re not mismatched.”

The food arrived.

I didn’t push her to talk.

But I caught her sneaking thoughtful, slightly confused glances at me as I wolfed down all but three slices of our pizza.

After we’d finished our beers and I’d fought her on being allowed to pay the full bill and not going halvsies—whatever the fuck that was—with her, she cut right to the chase.

“You get one shot at proving you know me after only two hours in my company, Jaxson. Meet me back here tomorrow night at six P.M.” She slid out of the booth and challenged, “If you don’t show up . . .”

Then I’d have proved her “mismatched” theory.

The fuck that was gonna happen.

“Oh, I’ll be here, Lucy Q. Count on it.”



* * *



? ? ?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me out of the memory.

I ended the timer that reminded me to take my medication before bed.

As I brushed my teeth, my mind was still in the past. Specifically how easy it’d been to be with Lucy from the start. I’d never had that type of relationship with any other woman, and it killed me—killed me—that I’d screwed it up so completely with her.

It was a long damn time before I fell asleep.





Three





LUCY




Sunday afternoon I’d arrived at Lola’s retirement party earlier than I’d planned.

Jax wasn’t there yet. And Mimi’s phone call yesterday had been so brief I had no idea what fun things Daddy had planned for them.

Part of me was happy he took his daughter places for them to spend time together, just the two of them, doing whatever her heart desired, damn the cost. Part of me carried resentment that I’d never had the luxury of extra cash until four years ago when Jax stepped up his monetary support.

I made the rounds, chatting with other clerical staff members of Lund Industries. As much as I loved working for LI, there was a line between management and the rest of us—evidenced by the separation of the groups on opposite sides of the conference room.

I’d volunteered to help Lennox Lund decorate for Lola’s party, since Lennox’s pregnancy prevented her from standing on ladders. Lennox hadn’t worked in Lola’s department for a few years, but she still maintained tight ties with the “floaters”—the term given to the in-house temp service. As a party organizer, I had a legitimate excuse to disappear behind the scenes, restocking plates and forks. Refilling the punch bowl. I’d just cracked open a new can of nuts, when I heard, “Lucy, dear? Are you back here?”

Why had Jaxson’s mother come looking for me?

“Yes, Edie. Be right there.” I exited the pantry with the jumbo can in one hand and the can opener in the other. I smiled at her.

Edie Lund was a stunning woman. With her dark hair cut into an asymmetrical bob that brushed one shoulder, she looked hip and approachable, not like a stuffy socialite married to one of the richest men in Minnesota. Her clothing was stylish whether she dressed in a trendy business suit for her position at Lund Cares Community Outreach, or whether she was home, in cropped jeans and a gauzy blouse as she tended her gardens. She was shorter than me, which put her at around five foot two, but she always wore four-inch heels. I used to joke with Jaxson that even if the house was on fire, Edie would still take the time to strap on her stilettos.

Even in the darkest times between Jax and me, Edie was never cold or cruel to me or indifferent to Mimi. That’s why I had allowed her to create a bond with her granddaughter. Edie never asked why I denied her son contact with his daughter, she never commented on the court battles Jax instigated, she never defended or attempted to explain Jaxson’s behavior. The only time she voiced her opinion was when Nolan and his father, Archer, threatened to file for custody of Mimi. Edie refused to have any part of taking Mimi away from me, and she made sure I knew she’d fight her husband and her sons on their ego-fed scheme. She was a wonderful grandma, and anytime I needed extra help with Mimi, she jumped in, no questions asked.