My Fiancé's Brother (The Guilty Series Book 1) Page 14

  ***

  We dropped Irene off and found ourselves back on the road. I bounced my knee while sitting beside him. We were alone. For two hours. Who was I to Jackson? I was his future sister-in-law. Nothing more, nothing less. He was gentle and protective with me and he made me feel good about myself when he was so encouraging but that was where it ended. I vowed to refocus my energy on Matt and our wedding. I had to.

  I stared out the window, and didn’t even attempt to make conversation.

  “You’re pretty quiet,” Jackson said.

  “I guess,” I said. I looked over at him. He looked so handsome the way he casually held the steering wheel, his sunglasses pushing back through his messy hair.

  The words poured out of my mouth before I could stop them, “Why don’t you want kids or marriage?”

  He frowned.

  “Is that too personal?”

  He leaned forward to look at his side mirror, while he merged onto the highway. “My job complicates stuff. It is better to just not go there.”

  I needed to know. Don’t ask me why, but I just needed to hear his words. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “We are gone a lot.”

  I wanted to, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “Lots of relationships deal with separation.”

  He glanced at me. “My job comes with a lot of uncertainty.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He threw me a smile and shrugged. Refusing to answer.

  “Why are you so elusive about your job?”

  “It’s just a job.”

  I picked up my phone and typed in “navy seal” into google. Literally hundreds of articles popped up. I scrolled through some articles.

  I started to read off the screen. “It is almost impossible to become a Navy SEAL and only the most elite of the elite, actually make it through the training program. Then they spend over a year training in some of the harshest environments possible.”

  He looked at my phone. “What are you doing?”

  “I'm reading about your job. I want to know what you do.” I scrolled down through another article and began to read out loud. “Combat operations take place in some of the most dangerous locations in the world….Navy SEALs remain calm while fighting terrorists, criminals, pirates, all the while sleep deprived and mentally exhausted.”

  I paused while my mind absorbed that. “You get into fights with terrorists?”

  He rolled his shoulders. “Sometimes.”

  I just stared at him. Taking in his stubble, his long hair, those immense shoulders. Trying to imagine him holding a gun and shooting it. Getting shot at. He glanced at me, his expression questioning.

  I pulled my eyes away from him and started to read some more to him. “SEALs operate in the shadows, approaching life threatening combative situations via helicopter, submarine, parachute, boat, on foot, or by swimming underwater. They are masters of complicated technology, weaponry, hydrographic surveys and charts. They specialize in explosives, camouflage, or sniper skills. SEALs have stamina, patience, and put their lives on the line during every single mission without receiving the credit they deserve.”

  Images flashed before my eyes. Jackson taking a running leap out of the back of some plane into a dark abyss. Scaling out of a helicopter. Coming out of water with the weird fake grass on his head and green face paint while he approached enemies from behind with a knife. It was straight out of some sort of Rambo movie and it was freaking me out.

  I looked over at him. “Please tell me this isn’t your job.”

  He smiled one of his devastating smiles that made my heart flip slowly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  My bottom lip started wobbling. “How dangerous are these missions that you do?”

  Green eyes met mine. He said in a calm voice, “It’s not that bad.”

  At that moment I knew it was probably much worse. My entire body seized up in fear. “It says that you put your life on the line during every single mission.”

  “We are trained to handle those kinds of situations.”

  “Situations where people are constantly trying to kill you?”

  “Emily, it is just a job. It has its challenges but it is also rewarding too.”

  “Have you ever been shot at?”

  “Once or twice.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand and tossed my phone on the dash. I envisioned Matt getting a phone call and then he would turn to me and tell me that Jackson had been killed overseas. My chest ached so hard I was struggling to breathe. I looked out the window, and worked to not cry. I forced myself to breathe slowly. Evenly.

  “Emily,” he said.

  “You never told me,” I accused him. “You should have told me right from the start.”

  “What difference would it have made?” he sounded baffled.

  My arms waved in the air. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have let myself be your friend. That’s the difference. Now I am and I can’t not feel sick about this.”

  “So you wouldn’t have become my friend?”

  “Exactly,” I shot back. “I would have protected myself.”

  A strong hand reached over and grabbed my hand. “Don’t think about it.”

  I inhaled a deep shuddery breath. “You should come with a warning label. Dangerous job. Might get killed and leave you. Don’t get too close.”

  “Em,” he said. I tugged at my hand but he refused to let go.

  I looked out the window. “I guess I answered my own question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I can understand why women struggle with your job.”

  Chapter 23

  When we arrived home, Jackson and I sat at the island and ate a late lunch in silence. I pushed food around my plate, my appetite all but gone.

  I mentally lamented about how I could find out my fiancé was cheating on me and it had no emotional impact on me. But the moment I found out about Jackson’s job and how he worked in such a dangerous environment, I literally felt sick to my stomach. What if he got hurt or killed? Everyone I loved with all my heart had died on me. Knowing that he constantly put himself in life and death situations made me want to weep. I would never survive another loss. The world was a better place because Jackson was in it. It devastated me to think that he was in mortal danger because of a stupid job. It made me so angry, so sad, so upset, I couldn’t eat.

  “Your car should be done tomorrow,” Jackson said.

  “Oh thanks,” I said, my voice listless.

  He eyeballed me and then his gaze dropped to my still full plate. “Everything okay?”

  “Sure.”

  He leaned back. “Want to tell me what’s bugging you?”

  “Nothing.”

  He studied me for a long moment. I dropped my eyes, unable to withstand his scrutiny. I slid off my stool and started to clear my plate. He sat there watching me from beneath the brim of his baseball hat. How could I tell him that his job scared me half to death? If he knew that I was this upset about his job, he might realize that my feelings were a bit more than sisterly. I worked to hide my emotions.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Emily.”

  “Matt cheated on me,” I blurted out, for lack of anything better to say.

  His expression didn’t shift. He just continued to observe me.

  “He told me that he fooled around with someone after the party but he wouldn’t tell me with who.”

  “He told you that he slept with someone?”

  I rubbed one eye. “He said that they didn’t have sex, they just fooled around.”

  There was a tick in his jaw. “What does that mean?”

  “I guess they kissed. And…”

  “And what?”

  “And she…” I felt my face heat up. “She did things with her mouth.”

  He crossed his arms. “He told you this.”

  I nodded feeling oddly embarrassed. “Yeah.”

  Silence from him.

  I started to load the dishwasher.
“People make mistakes, right? I mean, I'm no angel either.”

  Green eyes stared at me.

  I shrugged. “I think now I just am very confused about some stuff.”

  Like the fact that people pointed guns at Jackson and tried to kill him. That his job was so dangerous he didn’t want to get married or have kids. Did that mean he thought he was going to die? How did he sleep at night? How was I ever going to sleep again at night?

  I glanced up at him. Other than his nostrils being slightly flared, he didn’t seem to be reacting at all. I shut the dishwasher and started to wipe down the counters. “Anyways.”

  I finished the counters and turned to walk out of the kitchen and I almost did a face plant into his hard chest. How he had managed to move so silently around to this side of the island, I had no idea.

  “Oh sorry,” I said.

  I tilted my head back to see if he even saw me, and his gaze, shadowed beneath the brim of his hat, was on my face. I took a step back and he followed, stepping so close to me, he was almost touching me. I took another step back and he kept on coming. I gasped when I bumped into the island and he stepped in so close, he was almost but not touching me. I thought I might faint as I felt the heat of his body radiating around me. I trembled.

  He reached out and then I squeaked as I felt myself being lifted. My ass hit the counter top, my eyes were now almost level to his face. He placed a hand on either side of me on the counter, his huge arms caging me in, while he leaned forward towards me, bringing his face close to mine. Yet still we didn’t touch.

  My eyes were wide and trapped by the intensity of his stare. I was completely still, except for my rib cage, which was working overtime to bring little wisps of air into my lungs.

  Slowly he leaned in close, bringing his mouth so close to mine, it was less than an inch away. His gaze pinned mine.

  When time seems to slow down, it feels like your brain is on overdrive. Thousands of thoughts flooded through my brain. This was wrong. I needed to stop. Jackson was almost kissing me. He smelled so good. He was so big. I was surrounded by him. I feel safe. I'm protected. Nothing can hurt me. I want to feel him.

  With tremulous lips, I slowly, tentatively moved my mouth closer to his. I could feel his breath against my lips. Just one taste. I just needed to know if the other kiss had been a complete fluke. He stood so close. I leaned up a tiny bit further. Our lips barely grazed. Our eyes met. I wanted more. I wanted to touch him. I slid my hand up up around his neck, my fingers slid over the thick strong muscles that were covered by such smooth warm skin. I used his solid neck as leverage as I pulled my face just a tiny bit closer. He looked into my eyes. His lips felt so soft and pliable against mine. My eyes fluttered shut against his gaze and I moved my lips against his, this time a real kiss.

  The moment he started kissing me back felt like everything went into overdrive. Two hands lightly pressure the inside of my knees, so that I widened my legs. The moment I did, he stepped in closer. His mouth tortured me, teased me, played with me. One arm came around my back, tugging me so I was arched up against him. I gasped, my mouth opening to his, his tongue plundered me, sending my entire body into an electrifying technicolor. His mouth over mine, awakened something inside of me that I didn’t recognize or understand. I felt intoxicated, dizzy, as his kiss escalated. He was all primal hot male, taking from me what he wanted. And I loved it. I moaned and clung to his neck, my fingers sliding into his thick hair. His other arm wrapped around my waist and pulled my body hard against him. I groaned as I felt the heat of his stomach through the fabric of my jeans, as he slanted his mouth over mine.

  And then he lifted his head, taking his perfect lips with him. I opened my eyes, stared up into his face, my breath coming out of me in tiny little pants. I couldn’t read his expression. And then he stepped back from me. I clutched the sides of the counter, unable to tear my gaze from his face. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and turned and walked out of the kitchen. I sat there frozen, as he took long strides across the room and then my body jarred as I heard the heavy sliding door open and then slam shut. Feet pounded down the steps. I heard his truck start and then drive away.

  ***

  I paced the length of the kitchen, completely blown away by that exchange. Every single time I told Jackson some sad sob story about my life, whether it was the boys in University not wanting to kiss me or my fiancé had cheated on me he gave me pity kisses. This was simply Jackson making me feel better. Jackson was a soldier. And he had actually told me, “I like to fix things.” I was Jackson’s pet project. Matt cheated on me, so Jackson helps me take revenge by kissing me back. I could see what he was doing a hundred miles away.

  I remembered the feeling of his mouth on mine, the way his strong arm yanked me hard against his torso, the way he tasted and the searing heat of everything that made him Jackson. I groaned and put my face in my hands. This was where I was going wrong. I was misconstruing these mind-blowing moments as emotion.

  Jackson was the guy that told me with a straight face that he thought Julie was plain. I snorted. Julie was the most beautiful person I knew. If he thought Julie was plain, I must be borderline hideous to him. I stood barely 5’1”. I had bright copper red hair that no matter what I did, it never behaved. My breasts were so small, even with the greatest super bra, I could barely get any cleavage. My nose was cute and pert. I looked 15 most of the time. My skin looked pale and showed every single emotion I was feeling. And every time I shared something bad about my non-existent sex life, he gave me pity kisses. He was just trying to fix me. Help me. That is who he was.

  I swallowed. Except those two pity kisses were the greatest two moments of my sex life. Those pity kisses made me want many more terrible things that I should not want from someone who was going to be my brother-in-law.

  Chapter 24

  I finished cleaning up the kitchen. I needed to get focused. I needed to get ready for my looming wedding. A wedding I couldn’t seem to bring myself to plan. I needed to go pick up my invitations and start mailing them out. I needed to do a cake tasting. I needed to get to a dress fitting. The caterers wanted a confirmation on the menu. I had no desire to even try and attempt to make these decisions. Instead, like the coward I was, I just pushed everything off for another day.

  I heard the sound of Jackson’s truck. I froze and looked at the clock. He had only been gone 15 minutes. I looked wildly around. Should I go hide in my room? Should I just pretend that he hadn’t completely devastated me with yet another kiss? Maybe we needed to talk about it.

  I heard his footsteps on the stairs and then he opened the door. It looked like he carried in his arms a dirty white stuffed animal. Except that dirty bit of fluff lifted it’s head and looked at me with fearful wide black eyes.

  “What’s that?” I gasped, rushing forward.

  He looked down at what he carried in his arms. “I found this little one on the side of the road. I couldn’t leave it.”

  It was a dog. Long white fur matted with blood and crusted with dirt. It looked skinny and pitiful in his arms. Big floppy ears, black eyes and a black nose. A long wide scratch down it’s nose. It smelled terrible.

  “Oh,” I said, galvanized into action. “Put it on the couch.”

  Jackson looked at me. “It’s pretty dirty.”

  I grabbed a big white throw and laid it on top of the couch. “Come on, put her down.”

  Jackson gently laid the dog onto the couch. It curled up into a ball and whimpered in misery.

  “Is it hurt?” I asked as I crouched next to it.

  Jackson moved beside me. I watched as he expertly ran his fingers gently over it’s legs and body. “No broken bones but she sure is skinny.”

  I held my fingers to the dog’s nose and she timidly lifted her head up and licked my fingers.

  “Oh baby,” I crooned. “You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

  Jackson spoke, “I can take it to the shelter tomorrow, but I just didn’t want to leave her ou
t there.”

  I turned and gave him an incredulous look. “You won’t be taking this dog anywhere.”

  He took in a deep breath. “We should get it some water.”

  I jumped up, almost tripping over myself to get to the kitchen. I placed a bowl of water on the floor. The dog slowly crept off the couch and looked at us warily before she started to drink with great big gulps.

  “Easy girl,” Jackson said, as he pulled the bowl away. “You want to go slow on that.”

  The dog whined. What if it had internal injuries? What if it needed a doctor? I tamped down my fear. “We need to bring it to the animal hospital. Make sure she’s okay.”

  Jackson looked at me. “Right now?”

  I stood up. “I'm going to get my purse.” I stopped and looked at him. “Uh, can you drive us?”

  Jackson patted the dog’s head. “Looks like we are going to the hospital buddy.”

  ***

  The dog lay in my lap while Jackson drove. It panted in fear. I had wrapped her up in the white blanket, and she made no attempt to try and move. Her weak state worried me.

  Jackson carried the dog into the hospital and they showed us into an examination room. Jackson comforted the dog on the waiting table while I sat and filled out the paperwork. Not that I knew anything about the dog, but I added my phone number and address.

  The vet walked in. She was tall and blond, her hair pulled into a pony tail. She had high cheek bones and gorgeous brown eyes. “What have we here?”

  “Found this one along the road,” Jackson said.

  She smiled up at him. “A good samaritan. I like it.”

  We watched as she performed a full exam.

  She took her stethoscope off and put it around her neck. “No signs of injury other than she just seems weak and severely malnourished. Are you wanting to drop her off at the shelter?”

  I stood up. “No. I'm going to keep this dog.”

  Jackson gave me a wry look. “Are you sure?”

  She gave a flirty smile. “Your girlfriend seems pretty dedicated to this one. Hope you like dogs.”