Jake’s words. He was why those words were so important.
Maizy was the biggest reason he had to avoid all these feelings cropping up for Em. Everything was for her. No outsiders allowed. Nothing would detract him from fixing what he’d broken and couldn’t ever fix.
Gage tweaked her cheek and murmured against her hair, “Good night, Gracie.”
Eight
“Clifton Junior, please don’t snatch,” Em corrected, placing a hand over his smaller one to prevent him from knocking over the shiny silver platter Sanjeev held in order to nab a weenie in a blanket. “We’re guests in Aunt Dixie and Uncle Caine’s home. They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make this night fun. Please appreciate that effort and put your best manners forward.”
Sanjeev, always crisp and fresh in a white kurta, his midnight-black hair stark against the backdrop of the material, held a hand up, but Em frowned his protest away. No. No more allowing Clifton to take advantage.
Ugh. A year ago, Clifton was the sweetest boy on the planet. Considerate, loving, a snuggler.
Today, at the ripe old age of eight, he was sullen, troubled and moody, nothing like the gooey dose of sunshine that had once greeted her every morning.
Clifton shot her his “every disobedient thing I do is because you’re the worst mother ever” expression and rolled his wide blue eyes.
Jax’s dark head was there all of a sudden, nodding his agreement. “Mom’s right, you know. But I kinda get it. If weenies in a blanket are at stake, I might get grabby, too.”
Enter the dreaded awkward. To-die-for awkward, no doubt. Whisper-husky-voiced awkward, check. Deliciously dressed in a navy fitted shirt and tight jeans awkward, check-check. But still awkward.
“Evenin’, Emmaline. This must be Clifton Junior?” Jax stuck out his hand at Clifton, all five fingers of magic, and waited.
The slow climb of red her cheeks were growing accustomed to wearing when Jax was around began its rise. He took up all the space in the room, leaving her feeling like simply lifting her hand was an attempt to defy gravity.
She nudged Clifton, who poked his hand out like he was thrusting his chubby fingers into a pot of boiling water. “Clifton, this is Mr. Hawthorne. Please say hello.”
Jax took her son’s hand, swallowing it whole, and shook it briskly. “You can call me Jax if it’s okay with your mom.”
Clifton, ever unimpressed, looked to Em with his haughty disdain before pulling his hand away. Knowing he should acknowledge an adult, he was deciding in his little mind whether to defy her openly. It was a choice he made frequently.
Thankfully, at this moment, one where she was so fragile, if someone blew on her, she’d shatter into a million pieces, Clifton chose obedience. “Nice to meet you, Jax.”
Jax’s face spread into a grin. “Same here.”
Clifton popped the weenie in a blanket in his mouth and took off toward the vast area in the great room where Sanjeev had set up all sorts of activities for her boys and Maizy.
“No running with food in your mouth, mister!” she called after him, for which he promptly ignored her and dived into the pool of balls in the middle of the room.
“At that stage where everything you say is a reason to roll his eyes and make gagging noises?” Jax asked, moving closer to her, sending prickly beads of awareness along her forearms.
Hypersensitive to Jax’s presence and his accurate evaluation of Clifton, her sigh was forlorn. “That’s me. The most disgusting person on earth.”
“Totally bogus assessment. If only he could see what I see.”
If only she could find a potted plant to hide behind or some fresh dirt to dig a hole for herself, maybe. He’d seen all right. Plenty. There was that thick silence he’d been talking about.
From the corner of her downcast eyes, Em saw him rock back on his feet, putting his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “So here we are at awkward.”
All day long, while she’d waged a full-on war of anticipation and dread about seeing him again, she’d mentally practiced her “I’ll take a lover in the afternoon” theory.
So big deal. He’d done some amazing things to her body. Plenty of people did amazing things to each other’s bodies all the time, took showers, parted ways and never saw each other again.
One-night stands happened all the time. It wasn’t anything new or original. So what? But you’ve never had a one-night stand, Em. Could what happened even be classified as a one-night stand when you never made it past third base?
Was it third base, anyway?
And then she’d seen him arrive at the big house. Enormous man, strutting toward the grand entryway with his long legs, and her resolve to behave as though nothing earth-shattering had happened between them melted like butter in a cast-iron pan.
Jax made her feel things she’d never felt before. He evoked words from her lips she’d never used before. Her head was spinning, and it felt good, and bad, forbidden and alluring and frightening.