Something to Talk About (Plum Orchard #2)

Maizy patted him on the cheek and gave him a toothless grin. “I was right here all the time, Daddy. With Miss Em and Gareth, waiting for you to come pick me up.”


Then everything was different. The cloudy haze in Jax’s eyes cleared, and his shoulders relaxed under his jacket. “I couldn’t see you. When I can’t see where you are, I get scared.”

Em stood, Gareth’s hand in hers, and she knew she wasn’t imagining Jax’s urgency. Not judging from the way Gareth tucked himself into her, his hand holding hers tighter. She put her hand on his arm. “Is everything okay?”

No. It surely wasn’t okay. But Jax was going to tell her it was.

He nodded, most of the panic gone from his eyes, but he was forcing himself to come across unruffled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, Maizy-Lou. I just lost track of you. Everything’s okay.” His eyes skimmed Em’s then returned to Maizy.

Had something like this happened before? Or was he telling the truth—he’d just lost sight of her?

Jax smiled now, that easygoing, everything’s-all-good smile. “Really. I just panicked. You know how that is.”

She did. But something about the way he was trying so hard to convince her that was how it was, wasn’t convincing her. “I do know,” she replied easily, while her eyes fixed on his and wouldn’t let go.

Maizy held up Em’s glove and put it under Jax’s nose, diffusing their stare-off. “Look, Daddy. Miss Em let me try on her glove. It has fur on it. It’s so soft. Can I have gloves like Miss Em’s?”

“Maybe, princess. For now, whaddya say we go home and have some dinner with Uncle Tag and Uncle Gage?”

“Who’s cooking?”

Em stifled a laugh when Jax rolled his eyes. “Not me, okay? I can’t believe the bad rap I have for one burned fish stick.”

Maizy leaned over Jax’s arm and handed her back the glove, her button nose wrinkled. “It wasn’t one. It was a whole box of ’em. Daddy’s a really bad cook,” she informed Em and Gareth.

“My mom’s a really good cook. She makes really awesome macaroni and cheese, and it’s not from a box. Maybe you could cook for Maizy sometime, Mommy?” Gareth’s sweet, round eyes sought hers.

Innocence in all its simplicity.

Maizy nodded her head. “I love macaroni and cheese. Promise I’ll eat all of it.”

“I always eat all of mine,” Gareth agreed.

Now she was avoiding Jax’s eyes, looking anywhere but where he was. She ruffled Gareth’s hair with an affectionate hand. “Maybe when things aren’t so busy at work, I’ll make some macaroni and cheese.”

“Macaroni and cheese? We love macaroni and cheese, don’t we, DeeDee?” Louella strolled along the thinning crowd, her suede boots clicking on the sidewalk, her perfectly streaked, vanilla-blond hair lifting in the chilly breeze. Hand in hand with her equally as blonde and pretty niece, she insinuated herself into their conversation.

She gave Em the once-over with critical eyes—her way of acknowledging Em and dismissing her all in one glance. “Hi, Em. How nice to see you. Still runnin’ the business of somethin’ that rhymes with fin?”

Hah-hah. Sin. Funny, clever Louella Palmer. Em’s cheeks flushed.

Jax’s eyes caught Em’s over Louella’s head as he let Maizy slide down his hip and to the ground, but she didn’t understand the message he was sending her.

He nodded politely at Louella, giving her a brief smile before holding his arm out to Em. “She is. Like a well-oiled machine, I might add. Anyway, we were just on our way to go get some of that macaroni and cheese with the kids. Nice seeing you again, Louella.”

Oh. Message received.

Was it wrong for her to smile smugly at Louella when big, handsome Jax offered his arm to her? Would she burn in the flaming fires of hell for enjoying the gasps of some of the other mothers?

Probably. But at least she’d have Dixie on the big-fat-burn-in-hell couch right beside her. Tipping her heeled foot up, she smiled wide at Louella. “As always, nice to see you, too. Bye now, Louella!”

As she let Jax whisk her away, she realized, all mom-eyes were on her, and everyone would be talking about the way she’d slighted Louella with Jax, totally defeating her “no one could ever get the slightest whiff of her relationship with him” vow.

Yet, right this second, she didn’t care about propriety, or all the ugly rumors that would certainly circulate, or even that she’d one-upped Louella in public.

She only cared that the man who was directing her to her car was Jax, and her arm in his, cradled in the nook of all that power, made her feel good.

Safe. Protected. Even from the evil intentions of Louella Palmer.

*

“I know what you’re thinking.” Jax’s breathing was heavy and choppy, his chest expanding and deflating with the effort.