Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(3)

“Can’t wait to be able to tie my own shoes again,” Tate grumbled, looking at her distended belly. “And to get James off my back.”

Right. Like she needed to tie her own shoes with James around. “Come on, he treats you like a queen. He worries.”

Tate smiled softly, glancing at her husband. “I know.”

Elle still couldn’t get used to the image of her prim and proper little sister married to the tattooed-up-to-his-ears, possessive James Bowen. And yet she couldn’t think of a better husband for her.

“How’s Rosita’s?” Tate asked.

“Still standing.” Man, her sister had been away from the restaurant for a couple of days and she was already fretting. If it were up to her, she’d be there this last month of pregnancy, but the doctor had ordered her to rest and James wasn’t taking any chances.

“Mom offered to come to help,” Tate insisted. “We can call her. She’d be here in a flash, and you wouldn’t be alone in that big house.”

Elle shook her head. She could manage. Her mom liked it in Florida, where there weren’t so many reminders of her deceased husband and son, and being with Ron was good for her. “Rosita’s will survive. And I like my space.”

Tate didn’t believe her, not for a second. “Why don’t you rent it and with the money pay for a place of your own. You know, somewhere not so full of…”

Memories. That was the word Tate was probably working toward.

“I’m fine there,” Elle assured her.

Before Tate could reply, Annie walked in with the baby in her arms, her mother by her side. Max darted to them right away, face beaming with love.

Elle had known from the very beginning that Annie was going to be the one for Max. He’d had that look in his eyes, the same one James and Cole had when they looked at their wives.

“Let’s get this show rolling,” Max said after the priest arrived.

As they took their places, Elle scanned the premises. No sign of Jack. He was still doing whatever commando shit he’d been doing since summer, but she’d sent him an e-mail with the info about the wedding a couple of days ago, hoping he’d read it on time.

Suddenly the doors opened and a big black shadow stepped in. The air she didn’t know she’d been holding came out in a whoosh. Jack. She didn’t need the man to remove the hood to recognize him. The massive force field around him gave him away. When he revealed his face though, she froze. His demeanor had always been severe, but now he did look like a cyborg. Deep, soulless eyes. Sharper features. Skinnier, if the massive tank he still was could be called that.

Elle approached him and stood next to him. “So you do read my e-mails,” she whispered, her gaze never leaving the priest. “You’re just too rude to answer them.”

She didn’t need a response from him, because one, she knew he was that rude and two, there was no doubt he’d read her e-mails. And thank God for that; otherwise Max and Annie wouldn’t be here getting married, and their story would have ended very differently. Just the thought of it made her sick.

“Quiet, pet,” he answered back. She couldn’t see it, but she felt his smile in his voice.

Pet. How she got that demeaning and patronizing nickname from him, she had no clue. He’d barely talked to her the entire time they’d known each other; just grunts and scowls. Then James had gotten hurt last summer and had been admitted to the hospital, scaring the living shit out of everyone, her included. When Elle had tried to leave in order to go open Rosita’s, Jack had blocked the door, snatched the car keys away from her, and not only forbade her to drive but called her pet. Worse still, when she replied that she didn’t recall giving him permission to call her pet, the * dared to say “I don’t recall giving you permission to talk at all, pet” with that frigging arrogant tone of his, the one that gave her those embarrassing shivers. Modern women shouldn’t get shivers at being ordered around in that tone. So politically incorrect, dammit.

And the * was immune to her. She got her way with everyone but him, who aggravated the living hell out of her by ignoring her. And the more he ignored her, the more she felt like pissing him off. A vicious, rather enjoyable circle.

She stood by his side, their hands brushing during the service, feeling the tension rolling off him. The darkness too. He was in a bad place. Not caring that he might rebuff her, she slid her hand into his and gave it a tight squeeze. He needed that, whether he would admit it or not. He froze for a second, and to her surprise, when she tried to end the embrace, he didn’t let her, holding her hand tighter.

They didn’t exchange a word during the ceremony. Elle didn’t move a hair, afraid it would break the spell and Jack would remember he was a badass, in no need whatsoever of comfort. He was a badass, true, but whatever he was involved in was eating at him. He was tense and grim. Worn out, although he was standing stoically and would probably rather die than admit it. He needed the comfort, the human touch, even if it was just a small gesture, and damn if she wasn’t going to give it to him.

After Max and Annie were presented as husband and wife, everyone rushed to congratulate them.

Jack released his grip on her, and Elle moved to kiss the newlyweds.

When she turned around, Jack had already disappeared.





Chapter One