“What did he say to you?”
Jax’s eyes hardened and the muscle in his jaw ticked. “Nothing worth repeating.”
An insult, then. Whether to her or him, it didn’t really matter. She nodded and looked down at the blade of grass she’d rent in two.
“V, I’m sorry. Once my head cleared, I realized you’d tried to stop me.”
She didn’t say anything at first, but when it seemed he was waiting on some sort of explanation, she said, “And?”
“And although I know a lot of women hate violence in general…” He paused to run a hand over the back of his neck before exhaling and wincing up at her from under his lashes. “I’m kind of thinking maybe I broke a rule.”
That took her aback. Either he suspected that everything he did or said broke one of her Rules, or he was tuning in to her in a way that allowed him to differentiate between trivial reactions and meaningful ones.
She sincerely hoped it was the former, for her sanity’s sake. Or my heart’s sake.
“Have I, V?” he asked more gently.
She sighed and looked away from those intense eyes of gold and focused on the safe vibrant pink hibiscus flowers lining the parking lot. “I know you think I’m crazy—that my Rules are crazy—but I have them for a reason. And yes, you broke one.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy.” He paused, then added, “A little high-strung, maybe.”
She whipped her head around, ready to retaliate, but his crooked grin told her he was merely trying to get a rise out of her. It should piss her off—or at the very least annoy her—but that little hitch in the corner of his mouth was like a Vanessa MacGregor bomb diffuser.
“So what are the reasons you have the rules?”
Oh, hell no. Talk about opening a can of worms. Except this was more like a can of snakes. Of the poisonous variety. “No offense, but I rarely tell people I even have them. Why I have them is definitely not a topic open for discussion.”
He seemed to think on that for a while. If she had to hazard a guess, she’d say he was probably weighing his options for arguing the point. At last he conceded. “Then tell me which one I broke.”
“Rule #4: Never date a man who chooses fists over words.” He raised a questioning brow. “Believe me, the irony of you fighting for a living isn’t lost on me. Obviously the rule doesn’t apply to fights involved in your career, but that’s not what that was in there.”
He inclined his head. “Agreed.”
“But then again,” she said, meeting his gaze again, “since we’ve agreed we won’t be dating—now or ever—I guess you technically didn’t break anything.”
Vanessa stood and brushed the grass from her shorts. “Go hit the showers so we’re not late meeting Robért. I’ll wait for you in the car.”
…
The Mahina Lounge was empty except for the bustling waitstaff snapping crisp linens, placing pristine china and silverware, and arranging the freshly cut hibiscus centerpieces onto the dining tables of various sizes. Jackson sat at one of the four-tops in the back, close to the kitchen, waiting for Robért to emerge.
He didn’t like the idea of choosing his sister’s wedding cake for her, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. This whole mixed-up-identity situation was sprouting legs and soon it’d be running out of control if they couldn’t figure a way to rein it in.
Looking across the room, Jax studied Vanessa as she spoke to Lucie on the phone. Trying to get an idea of what she wants, he guessed. V stood with her back to him. Yet another sign she was shutting him out since the incident at the gym. On the ride back to the Mau Loa she’d been quiet and stiff in her seat. With back straight and hands folded in her lap, she looked every bit the professional attorney sitting in court, as opposed to the carefree girl who’d sang to the radio as her bare feet tapped out the beat on his dash earlier that morning.
Fucking Akana. Jax wasn’t sorry he’d decked the kid—he deserved it for the shit he’d said just low enough for Jackson to hear—but after seeing Vanessa’s reaction, he was sorry he’d done it in front of her. When he’d turned around to see her leaving the gym, his stomach had dropped. He tried running after her, but Corey had strong-armed him into a chair so Frank could butterfly his cheek. Once all the blood was cleaned off him he went in search of her, and seeing the look on her face—one that looked a lot like disappointment—had almost stopped him in his tracks.