Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(4)
One and a half months later, Alden
Jack adjusted his tie, feeling uncomfortable as all f*ck. The service at the chapel had been bad, but the mingling and the chitchatting at the reception was much worse. That it was a very informal one, barbecue-style, at James’s, didn’t make matters better. The other way around, actually. It made them chattier. He’d rather eat glass.
He couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.
“What have I ever done to you to deserve this?” Jack muttered to James.
He hadn’t been back in the States forty-eight hours and he was already in Alden, neck-deep in babies, parties, and marital bliss. Under normal circumstances, this family fest would have been hard. In his present state, it was unbearable. He was still too raw inside. All he wanted was to be alone, drink himself unconscious, and zonk out for at least a week.
“Come on, man. You know I love you,” James said, laughing.
“Thank God. I don’t want to know what you would do to me if you hated me.”
Being back among normal people doing normal stuff was f*cking hard. Not life-affirming. Just uncomfortable and pointless. Making him feel disconnected and more of an outsider. The small talk, the smiles. His stomach roiled at it all, but James was a persistent son of a bitch who had refused to see reason.
“You could have declined to be my son’s godfather.”
“And I would have if you’d told me who the godmother was,” Jack grumbled.
James chuckled. “No, you wouldn’t.”
True. Refusing wouldn’t have been an option for Jack. Whatever James would ask of him, he would do, no questions asked. And the motherf*cker knew it.
“And I didn’t lie to you about the godmother,” James continued with a smirk. “You never asked. You must be losing your touch.”
True again. It was all this happy-happy, love-is-in-the-air, pink-marshmallow gooeyness around Jack that was melting his brain.
Alden and the Bowens were bad for his mental health.
“I told you I wasn’t up for this.”
“And that’s exactly why you need to be here,” James stated. “You need to be reminded of the good things in life. Get a haircut. Shave and go get laid.”
“Whatever.” Like it was that easy to unplug. He’d scrubbed himself bloody, but the stench of misery still stuck to him. It was difficult to wash away.
At that moment, one of the main reasons for his piss-poor mood tapped him on the shoulder.
“Come on, T-800,” Party Girl said from behind him. “The photographer wants a picture of Jonah with his godparents. I tried to convince him that the godfather is not really photogenic and might break the camera with his growls and shitty disposition, but he wants to risk it, professional that he is.”
Without waiting for a response, she briskly walked away.
James clapped him on the back. “As I said, the good things in life.”
“T-800?” That was a new one.
“Infiltration unit. Model 101, series 800,” James whispered. Then, probably realizing that meant nothing to Jack, added, “The dumbest of all terminators?”
It figured.
He’d been told many times he came across as threatening and unapproachable, that everyone was intimidated by him. He liked it that way. The less human interaction, the better. But for some surreal reason, “everyone” didn’t include her.
He hadn’t known Elle was the godmother although he should have imagined James would pull a stunt like this. Not that Jonah was unlucky to have her in his corner. On the contrary; she was fierce and protective. Damn abrasive and infuriating, also. And yet when he closed his eyes, she was the only woman his mind invariably conjured up.
“Come on,” she called, turning around and wiggling her index finger at him. “Keep up.”
Right.
He followed her, trying very hard but failing not to notice her hourglass figure and the hypnotic sway of her hips. That gorgeous ass. The way her long, glossy dark hair seemed to float down her back. And that smell. Fuck, that smell always shot straight to his cock, never mind how inappropriate the moment was.
The photographer wanted several pictures of them in different locations, but Jonah took pity on Jack and decided to start fussing, so the ordeal was cut short, ending while they were sitting on the porch swing. He would have stood up and left if he could have, but his legs weren’t obeying him. Besides, the way out of there was through a horde of giggling, happy people, all nice and friendly. Oblivious to the darkness in the world. Wanting to know why he looked so gloomy and trying to cheer him up.
With Elle cooing at him, Jonah calmed down pretty fast, and Jack found himself staring at both of them. He never felt disconnected or like an outsider while being around Elle. He was pissed at himself and bothered beyond belief, and amused and aggrieved all at the same time, but never disconnected.
She turned to him, smiled, and he got the full impact, like a eighteen-wheeler slamming against his chest. Olive skin. Delicate features; sultry, extremely kissable lips. Killer body. Too bad every inch of her radiated that belligerent disposition of hers, the one that made his cock so f*cking hard he couldn’t breathe. He’d hoped her effect on him would have worn off, but no dice. She was even more beautiful, which should have been impossible, because she was stunning to begin with.
He could still remember the first time he’d seen her, at Rosita’s. She’d looked at him with her black eyes full of attitude, and the world had tilted on its axis. He’d tried to realign it, but so far he’d had no luck whatsoever. With her around, everything was a mess—which he hated—but without her nothing felt right. Go figure.