I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)(29)

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked, glancing back at Madison.

She wiped her hands nervously on her apron. “Mollie and I had dinner plans, and we thought—”

Mollie pointed warningly at her sister. “You thought.”

“I thought that it would be nice to stay in. Cook.”

“At my place,” he said flatly.

She shrugged and gave him a small smile. “You have to admit, it’s pretty hard to beat this kitchen. Shame to not use it.”

“Playing the domestic card, Maddie? Really?”

Her eyes glinted for just a moment, and he knew she was pissed that he’d seen right through her little scheme.

But he didn’t have time to deal with Madison right now. He had more important things to take care of.

He set his laptop bag on the counter, ignored Madison altogether, and headed toward his bedroom, grabbing Mollie’s biceps as he passed and dragging her with him.

“Good to see you too, roomie,” she cooed after he’d pulled her into his bedroom and slammed the door.

He ignored her sarcasm. “What is that?” he asked, pointing in the direction of the kitchen.

Mollie crossed her arms. “That would be Madison Burke, the love of your life.”

So she was trying to piss him off.

“What the f*ck is she doing here?”

“Exactly what she said. Dinner. And what’s with the surprised routine? I texted you about this, precisely so we could avoid this whole soap opera scene!”

Jackson swore softly but vehemently, punching his fist into the palm of his other hand. “My phone died. I didn’t have a charger. Fuck.”

Mollie winced. Well, this is unfortunate.

“Your sister lives in f*cking Houston, Mollie. Dear God, please tell me she still lives in Houston.”

“Sure,” Mollie said gently, “but she’s allowed to visit. And judging from the tension in the room when I walked in, you don’t seem to be all torn up about it.”

Jackson’s temper ignited again at being caught in a vulnerable moment—one of those rare quiet moments where he allowed himself to go back. To pretend…

“Get her out of here,” he muttered.

“No.”

“No?” he said, his voice lowered. He took a step closer, daring her to argue.

“I live here too,” she said, lifting her chin.

“Barely!” he shouted.

Mollie’s eyes lit with anger now as well, and she crossed her arms. “Either I live here as a roommate and am allowed to have my sister over for dinner, or I’ll find my own place.”

For some reason, the thought of her moving out—leaving him—sent a ripple of panic down his spine. It wasn’t like he needed Mollie. Hell, like he said, she’d only been here a short while, and they’d been awkward for days. But he didn’t think he could watch someone else he cared about walk out the door.

“Madison can stay for dinner,” he said slowly, reluctantly. “But swear to me this isn’t one of her manipulative schemes. That she doesn’t have some bullshit plan I’m about to walk into.”

Mollie held out her hands. “If there is a plan, she hasn’t told me about it. I’m not a part of it. Swear.”

He searched her face, then nodded. “I believe you.”

She blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah, because that’s what friends do. We believe each other,” he said, pointedly referring to their argument about his cheating scandal. He didn’t know why he couldn’t put it behind them, but damn, it ate at him.

“Don’t,” she said, her tone sharper than usual. “I’ve apologized. You have to drop it. It was a misunderstanding on Madison’s part, and it escalated, and—”

“Hold it right there,” he said, lifting a hand. “Your sister didn’t misunderstand the facts. She deliberately manipulated them to make herself look better. So that she could be the victim in the divorce.”

Mollie pressed her lips together as she thought this over. “She wouldn’t have done that. She wouldn’t have deliberately lied in all of those interviews.”

He laughed and ran a hand over the back of his neck before loosening his tie. “You really don’t know her at all, do you?”

“She’s my sister,” Mollie said quietly. “I’ve known her my whole life.”

“Look,” he said, tugging at the tie, noting that her eyes followed the gesture a little too closely. “I get that when you were young, Madison did you a solid when your parents went AWOL. But open your eyes, kid. She’s turned into a grade-A—”

Mollie was in his face in a second. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Also, ‘kid’?”

They were toe to toe now, and although a tiny, rational part of Jackson’s mind registered the anger in her tone, another part of him—the man part—registered that she was correct. She was no kid. She wasn’t a young girl anymore. And with her just inches away from being pressed up against him, he was definitely aware that she was all woman. A gorgeous woman. Who, lately, had been able to light his fire just as adeptly as she could talk him down.

Shit. Is it hot in here? It suddenly feels hot in here.

His eyes dropped to her mouth, and he tried to keep his thoughts straight. Tried to remember why he was mad, why she was mad—