Hurricanes and Handcuffs: A Red Hot Cajun Nights Story (6 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

How many times had she dreamed of waking up in Jax’s arms? Wistful and fragile as those hopes had seemed, they felt more substantial and attainable than the illusion of owning a piece of his heart.

She’d known the chances of that happening were slim to none. She’d gone into this with her eyes wide open, and without any foolish ideas of him falling madly in love with her. But she also hadn’t counted on him suggesting a permanent fling. Which would amount to what, precisely? Her becoming his mistress? Because that sure as hell sounded like the situation to her.

The really disturbing part? She was considering it.

Just acknowledging it brought on a spike of queasiness. Was she really so desperate to be a part of his life that she’d settle for what little crumbs he’d throw her way? She had more self-respect than that. 

Didn’t she?

Her stomach roiling, she untangled herself from Jax’s arms. He mumbled something in his sleep before rolling onto his other side. Although she knew she was prolonging her torment, she watched the moonlight play over the chiseled plane of his cheekbone. He’d never looked more like her dashing prince as he did right then. Only he wasn’t going to wake up and present her with a glass slipper before whisking her off to their castle in the clouds where they’d live happily ever after.

Even if she did become his mistress, how long could it conceivably last? A month? A year? Sooner or later he’d grow bored. Then what? Worst case scenario for Jax, he’d feel awkward about her continuing to work for him. Maybe he’d even try to pawn her off on one of the other Nobles rather than deal with living under the same roof with her.

Fuck that shit. If she left, it’d be on
her
terms. Bad enough she’d walk out the door with a broken heart, she refused to do it with zero trace of dignity.

Hugging her arms to her chest, she headed into the hallway. Shivering, she hurried to her room and pulled back the quilt and bed sheets before huddling beneath them in pathetic misery.

She eventually fell into a fitful snooze that was disturbed by constant nightmares. In one she was stranded alone in the middle of an ocean. All around her relentless waves threatened to shred her flimsy lifeboat to smithereens. No matter how diligently she paddled for shore, she couldn’t escape the eye of the storm. Something slammed into the side of her inflatable boat, toppling her overboard. She opened her mouth, crying for help, and the deluge of suffocating water sucked her into the abyss.

She jerked up in bed, shaking. A soundless sob broke from her and she slumped forward. Arms banded around her from behind, the unexpected contact jogging a yelp from her. Still trapped in the foggy recesses of her nightmare, she kicked and wiggled frantically, trying to break loose of her shadowed boogeyman.

“Gabbi, honey, it’s me.”

Jax’s gentle yet firm tone gradually cracked through her panic and she relaxed. Blinking as awareness settled in, she turned her head and peeked at him over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He brushed the hair out of her eyes, his features set in confusion. “I got worried when I woke up and you weren’t there. What made you come back to your room?”

“I must have sleep walked.”

His expression remained unconvinced but surprisingly he refrained from calling her out on the lie. “Now that you’re awake do you want to come back to bed with me?”

She clutched the covers tighter to her. “I’m too tired to move.”

Gusting a weary breath, he pulled her down next to him and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. She stared at the wall, her chest tight from the suppressed emotions welling inside her. It felt like she was drowning under their weight. Maybe that’s what the nightmare meant. Only Jax wasn’t her lifeboat. He was the submerged iceberg waiting to capsize her completely.

***

The doubts haunting her didn’t fade with the break of dawn. If anything, the harsh morning light only made it impossible to hide from the ramifications of giving her heart
and
body to a man who didn’t love her.

Why had she foolishly assumed that she’d be able to get him out of her system? He was worse than a drug, and there was no rehab to cure her of this addiction, other than completely removing the temptation.

Resignation sitting like an elephant on her shoulders, she quietly slipped out of bed and pulled on her robe before making her way downstairs. She stared at the piles of dirty dishes lining the counter tops. What a freakin’ mess. Rather like her life at the moment.

Figuring the dishes were far easier to tackle than her majorly fucked up situation, she twisted the stopper in the sink and flicked on the faucet. The dishwasher would only hold so much. Besides, there was something oddly comforting about the monotonous task of scrubbing pots and pans. Her mom had always said the same thing about vacuuming. Clearly the Scott women had really weird ideas when it came to stress busters. Shaking her head, she squirted soap into the stream of running water. Leaving the basin to fill, she glanced around the kitchen, heaviness crushing her chest.

She’d put so much of herself into this space. Like her room upstairs, it was her sanctuary. In here she’d always been able to temporarily forget her frustrations over Jax. And when she hadn’t been able to forget, she’d baked—the best de-stressor in existence.

Well, next to sex, anyway. And particularly sex with Jax. Ironic that the man who caused her so much stress also held the key to relieving it in such an earth-shattering way. Against her will, her mind tracked back to the amazing night she’d shared with him. He made her feel everything with a level of intensity that surpassed any other man. He brought her to the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows. All in one night, no less.

Tossing the scrubber brush down, she dragged a hand across her face, the hollowness in the pit of her stomach expanding to encompass her entire being. A creak sounded behind her and she dropped her hand before shooting a glance over her shoulder.

Jax stepped into the kitchen, his dark scruff of beard stubble making him look far too appealing at eight o’clock in the morning. He scratched his washboard belly and cracked a yawn. The least he could have done was put some damn clothes on. Like she needed the temptation of his morning wood waving a provocative invitation. Without saying a word, she stalked to the pantry and grabbed her apron. She scrunched the fabric into a ball and tossed it at him. He caught it against his chest and frowned. “What’s this for?”

“You.”

His smile turned too cocky for words. “Why? Am I distracting you?”

“Yes. In case you didn’t notice, I have a crap load of shit to clean up here.”

“I’ll give you a hand.” He pitched the apron onto the island and joined her at the sink. Ignoring her dubious stare, he grabbed a sponge and began soaping up one of the plates. He nodded at the dishrag hanging on the nearby peg. “You dry.”

For the next half hour they silently worked their way through the mountain of dishes. Standing next to a bare-ass naked Jax did nothing to help stabilize her equilibrium. It was too easy to pretend that them sharing this simplest of household chores somehow made them equals when nothing could be farther from the truth.

Jax lived in a world of power and privilege. She kept his kitchen stocked and his belly full. That was her station in this relationship. Well, it had been before last night. Now she had the additional complication of their sexual dynamics.

If she didn’t put a stop to this now she’d never find the strength to move on. Weary acceptance carving her heart in half, she ran the dishrag over the last pot and stashed the sauce pan away in its cubby. Sucking in a deep, fortifying breath, she faced Jax while he polished the water spots from the stainless steel faucet. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He folded his cloth and set it next to the basin before glancing at her. “We’re all done here anyway. Go on up and get dressed, baby.” His smile wicked, he boxed her in against the sink and peeled back the lapel of her robe. “Unless you want to put this counter to better use.”

“I’m not talking about the dishes. I’m talking about us.” With more willpower than she thought she possessed, she grabbed his hand before it could cup her breast. “I’m giving you my official notice, Jax. You’ll have to find another chef. Because I quit.”

CHAPTER EIGHT   

Positive he’d misheard her, Jax stared dumbly at Gabbi for the longest moment. Fairly certain this had to be some twisted joke on her part, he tried for a shaky grin. “Good one. Almost had me going for a second there.”

Frown lines tweaked her brow. “I’m one hundred percent serious.” She pulled her robe closed and cinched it tight. “I’ll keep my position until you get back from your Paris trip next month, but I won’t be living here. For obvious reasons.”

Her calm announcement was like a brisk slap across his face. Still, he could deal with that shock much better than the cold black fear steadily invading his chest. Gabbi couldn’t leave him. She couldn’t. Without her his world held no meaning. “I don’t understand. Last night—”

“Was my way of saying goodbye.”

He blinked. “What?”

Tears collected at the corners of Gabbi’s eyes and she swiped them away furiously. “I’d decided before then that I was quitting. But I wanted one night with you before I finally let you go.”

The soul crushing panic collapsing his insides made it difficult to immediately comprehend her words. Once he did, he gaped at her, a new sensation coming into the mix. Betrayal. “You’d already
decided
that you were leaving me high and dry?”

“That isn’t what I’m doing. For Pete’s sake, I’m giving you more than two weeks’ notice.”

Where was this coming from? He’d known last night something was bothering her, but he hadn’t thought for one moment that she was biding her time until she could kick him to the curb. “Look, I know I can be a royal pain in the ass to work for sometimes. That’s why I want to take you to Paris with me. To make up for all of my jackassery.”

“That’s not enough for me, Jax. I need to know that I mean more to you than being your mistress.” Her eyes were filled with a lifetime of pain as she peered up at him. “I can’t just be another one of your women. I deserve better than that.”

An awful silence descended on them while they stared at each other. All he could hear was the whoosh of blood pounding in his ears and the steady crackling sound of his world crumbling apart. Her tear-logged gaze a mirror of the misery clawing inside him, Gabbi wiggled out from between him and the sink and walked to the stairway. A second later the wooden stair treads creaked underneath her rapid footsteps.

Slumping against the island, he buried his face in his shaking hands. The indefensible wall around his heart was nothing but rubble and rubbish. In his quest to protect himself from hurt he’d only made things worse. More than that, he’d hurt the person who’d always been there for him. The only person who he’d ever truly let his guard down with. But not enough. Through all these years he’d never been honest about his depth of feelings for Gabbi. Not even to himself.

Because he’d been scared.

No, make that a fucking coward. Telling the woman he loved that she owned his heart didn’t make him weak.
Not
saying it did. How could he have been so blind to that fact?

All this time he’d condemned his parents for the very same mistakes he was making with Gabbi.

The realization of that sitting like a bitter pill in the back of his throat, he swallowed down an agonized groan and clenched his fists on the counter. He wouldn’t continue prescribing to this toxic legacy his parents bequeathed him. He’d break the cycle now.

Once and for all.

***

Tears running unchecked down her cheeks, Gabbi pulled her suitcase out from underneath her bed and settled it on top of the quilt. Her focus strayed to the indent left in the pillow Jax had been sleeping on. Sinking onto the edge of the mattress, she picked up the pillow and hugged it to her chest. Heartsick and miserable, she curled into a ball and cried until her eyes felt swollen and scratchy.

She’d known that leaving Jax would be the toughest thing she’d ever do, but nothing could have prepared her for this aching loneliness. She hadn’t even technically left yet. What the hell was it going to be like not seeing him every day?

Nausea sloshed in her stomach. Pressing trembling fingers to her mouth, she rolled onto her back and gazed blankly at the ceiling. She hadn’t even factored in where she was going to stay. How stupid was that? She’d just known she couldn’t continue to live under the same roof as Jax without eventually caving to either his seductive machinations or her foolish heart.

Her mom likely wouldn’t mind her moving in for a while until she found an apartment. But first she’d have to find a job. And from the looks of things, Jax’s recommendation wouldn’t be forthcoming. A hiccup, certainly, but she’d make do. Not like she didn’t have other references.

Sniffling, she pushed up from the bed and filled the suitcase with a week’s worth of clothes and everything else she’d need for the time being. Deciding it best to leave the bag out of sight until she clocked out from work, she ditched her robe and pulled on jeans and her old U of M sweatshirt. After brushing her teeth and putting on the minimal amount of makeup to hide the evidence of her crying jag, she headed downstairs.

The kitchen was empty—both a relief and a surprise. She’d half expected Jax to be waiting there for her, armed with some seductive ploy to talk her out of quitting. Then again, should it surprise her that he evidently didn’t give a crap? Sure, he’d seemed upset earlier. For a minute there, even devastated. And it’d killed her, thinking that she might be hurting him. But then reality had quickly burst that ridiculous bubble. Her quitting was only an inconvenience to Jax. Yes, she didn’t doubt that he’d miss her. But he’d sure as hell get over her a lot faster than it’d take for her to recover from this.

Assuming she’d ever fully recover. Twenty-five years of loving Jax wouldn’t miraculously vanish overnight.

Theresa and her ladies showed up around ten and the next several hours were filled with the noisy din of vacuum cleaners and floor polishers banishing the messy remains of last night’s party. Gabbi didn’t leave her post in the kitchen until close to twelve-thirty. She probably should have asked Jax ahead of time what he wanted for lunch, but nerves and her aching heart had talked her into prolonging the inevitable confrontation.

Tightness pressing against her sternum, she made her way to his office. Empty. Sighing, she crossed to his desk and pressed the intercom button. “Paging Mr. Noble. Please come see me in your office.” She rarely used the formality of his surname. It felt odd rolling off her tongue.

Perching on the end of the leather sofa, she folded her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting. Everything in this room was a tormenting reminder of Jax. It even smelled like him. No doubt his cologne had seeped into the mahogany paneling. A special gift to keep her senses reeling. Lightheaded and lovesick, she stared at the telephone, willing it to ring. Two seconds later, it did, making her jump. Scolding her nerves, she pushed up from the couch and forced herself to walk calmly to his desk. She picked up on the fourth ring. “Jax?”

“Gabbi, it’s Malcom. Mr. Noble needs you to run an errand for him. I’m supposed to drive you.”

She blinked at the blotter on Jax’s desk. “An errand?” What the hell? Wasn’t that just like him, totally disregarding the fact that it was freakin’ lunchtime. “Does it have to be done right this minute?”

“Yes. He was very adamant about that.”

Of course he was. Typical. “Well, what am I doing? Grocery shopping?” She couldn’t imagine why. She’d stocked the cupboards a few days ago, and there were a ton of leftovers from the party.

“Mr. Noble has a special luncheon planned and requires your assistance with getting all the details just right.”

That son of a bitch.
Another
event? And after he promised her a freakin’ week off. Then again, she did give her notice. Maybe this was his payback.

Gusting a weary breath, she promised Malcom she’d be outside in two minutes and then settled the receiver back in its cradle.

After grabbing her coat and purse she hurried outside. Jax’s Bentley waited in front of the fountain. Malcom tipped his hat as she approached the vehicle. “Lovely day for a ride.”

She plastered on the brightest smile she could manufacture. “So it seems.”

He opened the rear passenger door for her and she climbed in. No matter how many times she’d been chauffeured around it still felt weird. Slouching into the buttery leather, she tugged her seatbelt on and waited for Malcom to climb behind the wheel. A second later they rolled down the driveway.

They pulled out onto Lakeshore and drove approximately three hundred yards before turning into Neff Park. Bemused, she scooted forward in her seat as Malcom broke to a stop next to the unmanned gatehouse. He abandoned his seat and strode around to her side. His expression enigmatic, he got the door for her and stepped aside. She sent him a quizzical glance. “I don’t understand. Why are we here?”

“Everything you need is right down that path.” He cocked his head toward the sign a couple feet to the left of them.

Utterly mystified, she clutched her purse to her chest and took a hesitant step forward. She eyed Malcom again, hopeful for any indication of what awaited her down on the beach. He remained helpful as a stone statue as he shut her door and returned to his station behind the wheel.

Seeing no other way to get to the bottom of this weirdness, she shuffled across the lot. Tall clumps of marsh grasses rustled with the artic breeze, adding to the mysterious atmosphere as she made her way along the sandy path. She reached the sheltered cove and spotted the lone figure standing by the shore.

Everything you need is right down that path.
Oh God. Had Malcom even suspected the irony in his statement?

She stared at Jax’s handsome profile, bittersweet memories crashing into her. It was like a moment suspended in time. The only difference was he wore jeans and a thick heather grey cable knit sweater instead of board shorts. Two fishing poles sat near his booted feet.

Swallowing past the lump of emotion lodged in her throat, she strode toward him. “This weather is more conducive to ice fishing.”

“Too bad we don’t have any ice.” His grin was self-deprecating, and devastating to her sanity. “I’m trying to make a grand gesture here. You’d think Mother Nature would throw me a bone by cooperating.”

Grand gesture? “What’s going on, Jax?”

He caressed her shoulder before gesturing to a spot behind her. She shifted her head—and blinked at the canopied picnic spread tucked near the tall grasses. Chafing her arms lightly, he scooted her in its direction. She craned her neck to look up at him. “What is this?”

“You’ve done so much for me, Gabbi. I thought it was about damn time I returned the favor.”

She ducked beneath the canopy and stared at the delicious assortment of treats waiting on the plaid blanket. Smoked whitefish pate and crackers. Mini lobster rolls. Three layer coconut cake and macaroons.

All her favorite dishes. He grabbed a bottle of hard cider—again, her favorite—and twisted the cap off before filling a champagne flute with the effervescent beverage. At a loss for words, she accepted the glass. She clutched the fragile stem, mistiness fogging her vision. “You don’t play fair.”

“I know, baby. But when the stakes are this high, I’ve got to go for broke.”

“Damn it, this isn’t a game. This is my fucking life, Jax. Don’t do this to me.”

He bracketed her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away her tears. The solemnness in his eyes reached out to her, luring her in. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pull away from him. “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Gabbi. If I could take back all the pain I’ve caused you, I would. You’re the most important person in my life. I can’t lose you.”

She opened her mouth and he leaned down, cutting her off with a quick, hot kiss. He sighed at her glower when they came back up for air. “Yes, I know that was unfair too. And I’ll let you get everything off of your chest—I promise—but right now I really need to say this. I think it’s way past due.”

He took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. “I love you, Gabbi. I always have.”

Her world tilted off its axis for a moment before slowly settling back in place. It took everything inside her not to pinch herself to see if this was a dream. “Y-you love me?”

“Yes, baby. I’m  not used to the people I love loving me back, so for a long time I convinced myself that if I didn’t admit I loved you that you would never leave me.”

A wayward tear broke free of its dam, but this time she shed it for him. For the lonely prince who’d been too afraid to believe he was worthy of love when it’d always been standing right in front of him. Her fingers trembling, she stroked his dear face. “Man, we are really a fucked up pair, aren’t we?”

Chuckling, he cupped the back of her head and coaxed her to him. Their lips met, the kiss a beautiful extension of the joyful emotion bursting in her heart. Twining her fingers in his hair, she sucked on his bottom lip, reveling in his moan. She stroked his cheek again and whispered the words that’d been locked inside her for so long. “I love you, Jax. And you can’t get rid of me if you tried.”

A shudder ran through him and he hugged her so tight, every broken piece of her heart stitched back in place. He dug in his pocket. “Not that I don’t take your word for it, but I’m not taking any chances.” He held up a black velvet box. The diamond ring nestled inside blinded her with its brilliance and size.