Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (16 page)

“What the hell are you doing here?” I look to my brother for answers, instinctively knowing he’s got something to do with this shit. “What is she doing here?”

Ma’s shock and awe will have to wait.

Green hands her coat and purse over to my brother, and I notice her outfit. She’s still sporting jeans, but the top is slightly more formal than yesterday, and her hair is up in a wavy ponytail with curls dangling along the sides of her face. She’s like a chameleon, this woman.

Not that I’m complaining. The boots are a nice touch. I like the boots. Much better than the heels.

My sister-in-law comes barreling in from the dining room and wipes her hands before reaching out to take Green’s. She’s beaming, for Christ’s sake. “Hi, I’m Mia. Nick has told me
so
much about you.”

Really?

“How much could he have possibly told you after meeting her, what, once?” Seriously.

Green shakes hands with Mia only to be pulled into a welcoming squeeze.

What the blue blazing fuck is happening?

“Don’t be mad, Jackie,” Green says in that playful tone she takes when she’s putting on a show for someone. My mother, most likely. “He called to give me the address when he figured you’d forget. Which you did.” She jokes as she makes her way over to me while I try to comprehend, on any level, where she gets off calling me Jackie. I hate it when Nick calls me that. Why in the mother of fuck would she think I’d like it any better when she says it?

In front of me now, she reaches her hand out and softly touches my arm before making eye contact. Her perfume wafts, and I breathe it in like it’s oxygen. It’s not that flowery shit women usually wear
.
It’s clean. Fresh. I’m reminded of laundry outta the dryer. You know what I’m talking about.

I’m trying to place the other scent when she puts her lips against my cheek. It’s a surprise, yeah, but I gotta say, it’s a pleasant one. My hand slides around her waist naturally, and I tell myself it’s for show, but the truth is, it feels good.

Comfortable.

Does she kiss Connor like that? Does he hold her like this? Ever?

When she pulls away, her imprint is left against my skin. Warm and electric.

Surprisingly, I like it.

I must look like the world’s biggest idiot, standing there, silently questioning why my fake girlfriend is giving me a fake kiss that feels about as far from fake as you can get. Before I can question the motive behind that crazy, she whispers into my ear, “He got my cell number somehow. I couldn’t resist getting a glimpse into the private life of Jackson Stiles.”

I ignore the goosebumps her hot breath sends down my spine, and my eyes fly to Nick, who smirks and does the two-finger thing, pointing to his eyes first then to me.

It’s official.

I’m gonna fucking kill him.

They’ll have an entire hour of
Snapped
dedicated to this night.

Then again, maybe not. Because, honestly, having Green press herself up against me to get close to my ear like that might be worth the uncomfortable situation Nick has put me in. I just hope she doesn’t notice the effect she’s having on me
or
my dick.

“It’s good to have you, Emma,” Ma interjects.  My big bro apparently feels good enough about himself that he decides a wink is what I need before he walks off to put Green’s shit away.

I’m gonna need another drink.

“Where’s Dad?” Nick asks after he returns.

I take my jacket off. Running is futile.

Ma smiles and heads past me into the kitchen.

“He’ll be down soon,” she sings it, so I know something’s up. She only sings things when she’s trying to cover up the fact that she’s upset about something.

“What?” she asks, honest to God curious as to what I’m rolling my eyes about.

“Nothin’, it’s just typical.”

“Jack,” Nick warns. But you know what? Fuck that.

“You’re down here, busting your ass, for
his
damn birthday…”

“Watch your mouth, Jackson.”

“Hey, Emma.” Mia hooks a hand through Green’s arm. “Why don’t I introduce you to the twins?”

“Um.” She glances my way but allows Mia to lead her off into the other room. She never stood a chance.

Meanwhile, I turn to my mother.

“Sorry. So he’s where? In his room? Sulking?”

“He’s got a bad headache.”

“Bullshit.”

She slams her palm against the counter. “Jackson Odysseus Stiles, I will not say it again.”

What? She was big into Greek mythology when she had me.

I hesitate at her use of the middle name, but I decidedly head for the stairs. Nick takes a stance on the first step and blocks my way. As if his two-hundred-twenty pound frame could stop me.

“I’m fucking saying something.” I don’t say it loud enough for Ma to hear. Nick doesn’t yell back either. We’ve gotten good at this over the years.

“No, you’re not.” He does, however, get close enough that I can smell the Dentine he’s been chewing.

“Yeah? And why’s that?” I’m not backing down, dammit.

“Because
she
doesn’t want you to.” He has a point, but still.

“If
she’s
not gonna stand up for herself, I am.”

“You think
she’s
gonna appreciate that, Jackie?” He smirks just enough to make it a dare.

“Move, Nick.”

“Nope.” He crosses his big ass arms as a double dare. I’m about to take him up on it when Nick’s eyes move from mine to something behind me. Or maybe I should say, some
one
.

Shit.

Green. And Mia.

Friggin’ sister-in-law.

Not that I’m scared of her, but the concerned look on Green’s face is enough to make me hit the pause button for now.

Odd.

I point up at my brother. “This isn’t over.”

He dips one eyebrow at me as if to say,
whatever
.

Ma calls out from the dining room. “Dinner’s ready. Come and get it!” I wonder if Dad even heard her, or if he gives a shit that she went to the trouble of dragging us here for him.

I take a glance up the stairs one last time, hoping he comes down so I can tell him off and hoping he doesn’t at the same time, so maybe we can get through dinner without a debate about who’s the shittiest human on the planet. Him or me.

Nick sweeps past me to get his favorite seat next to Mia. The boys come barreling through like a freight train. “Hi, Uncle Jackson!” they sing in unison. Behind them, Green steps in line with me.

“What was that all about?” she whispers. I shake my head as I take her hand and guide her into the dining room. I’m not in the mood for sharing and caring right now.

“Where’s the guy who gave you this?” I pull at her hand to show her the promise ring.  She snatches it away and covers it up.

“Smells so good, Karen.” Mia has never missed a single opportunity to suck up to my mother in all the years I’ve known her. She’s good at it. Has been since the first date Nick took her on. She complimented Ma on the paintings she had hanging on the wall, and they’ve been BFFs ever since.

Whether Nick told her ahead of time that Ma painted them herself, back in the day when she used to be a little more artistic and a little less Betty Crocker, is debatable. He denies it, of course, but I have my fucking doubts.

I’ve always had my fucking doubts.

“Thank you, dear. It’s from that cooking show with Rachel Raymond.”

“Rachel
Ray
, Ma,” Nick corrects her, to which I have to laugh out loud because, “Really?”

“What?” He shrugs. “We watch her every weekend.”

“I love Rachel Ray,” Green chimes in. “Did you ever try her tuna casserole?”

“Oh
my God
.” Mia ceases with the shoveling of food onto her plate and sits down. “It is the best, right?” She’s getting giddy.

Danger, Will Robinson. And I ask again, what the fuck is happening here?

“I made a couple batches last year and took them to the Ronald McDonald House. They loved it.” Green seems proud of her accomplishment. So does Ma.

“You volunteer over there?” Mia even more so.

“Yeah, I mean, not as much as I’d like to, but yeah. Sometimes, I drop off food.”

“I volunteer with them all the time.” Mia thinks hard. “We should drive over together sometime.”

Green smiles like she’s in kindergarten, making her first friend. “I’d like that.”

I am so confused right now.

“What?” Mia’s attention leaves Green and finds me as she challenges my accusatory expression to her bogus conversation.

“You don’t have enough buddies in Redemption? Jesus Christ fucking A, Mia, give it a rest. She just got here.”

Green huffs. The boys make O's with their mouths and laugh. “Awe! Uncle Jackson’s in
trouble
!”

“Settle down.” I tell them in my authoritative voice, but honestly, they’re right. Ma’s now giving me the death stare I’ve always gotten when I was getting ready for a smack down from her.

“I think I’m capable of deciding who I am and am not allowed to associate with, Stiles.” If Green’s scowl isn’t enough to shut me the fuck up, my mother’s is.

Mia nudges Nick and gives a nod toward our friendly neighborhood dinner crasher. “I like her.”

“Me too.” He says it low enough to make like he doesn’t want me to hear him but loud enough that he knows I totally heard that shit.

Me too.
I do an exaggerated, silent impression of my brother, and everyone in the room laughs.

Funny group.

The moment is forgotten though when Ma passes me the potatoes. I pile them onto my plate like I’m not gonna eat again. She makes the best mashed potatoes in the tristate area. Not too smooth, not too lumpy. Lots of fucking butter plus garlic and bacon.

Damn.

Smells good.

Maybe I do need to overlook my issues with Dad and make it over for dinner more often.

Green’s phone goes off a few times while everyone is getting grub. I chastise myself for wondering if it’s the asshole.

Why do I care?

“Who are you?”

And there goes the evening, ladies and gents.

Dad growls from the dining room doorway at, I have to assume, Green. She looks like a deer in headlights when she faces him. Unable to form a word to introduce herself.

“Uh…”

“That’s Emma, dear. She’s Jackson’s girl—”

“Friends,” I correct my mother. “We’re friends, Pop.”

Mia smirks, the boys giggle like the ten-year-olds they are, and Dad grumbles.

“Not surprised there.” He scratches his ass as he makes his way to his seat next to Ma. He’s definitely hungover.
Headache, my ass.
I want to say something along the lines of go fuck yourself with a corkscrew, but Nick is sitting in my line of sight now, and he’s giving me that
don’t even fucking think about it
glare. So I drop it. I don’t tend to jump at the opportunity to hang my family’s dirty laundry out at the table while potentially shifty guests are looking on.

Green. I’m talking about Green.

Although I have to admit, my opinion of her might be changing. Slightly. Maybe because she’s showing me a side to her I hadn’t previously been aware existed. Or maybe because she pops up every fucking where I go lately, and that’s doing some kinda subliminal head fuck on me or something.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stiles.” She’s polite enough as a plate of fried chicken is passed to her. My father? He doesn’t bother answering except for a wave of his hand and a crack of his neck.

“Nice, Dad.”

“What?” he feigns innocence. “If she’s friends with you, she’s not expecting niceties?”

Green laughs and covers her mouth, unsure whether it’s okay or not. But Ma laughs, too. That makes it better, I guess. Though Green takes her hand away from her mouth, showing off the fantastic shade of red she’s turned, her foot bounces underneath the table about a thousand miles a minute.

She’s nervous.

I put a hand on her thigh, and she stills. More than that. She freezes all together. It takes me a second or two to figure out what’s up, and then it hits me where my hand is exactly.

Too close for comfort, too far away for satisfaction, maybe.

So, of course I can’t help myself. I slide it a little farther up. Not a lot, just enough to cause a knee-jerk reaction in her. It knocks the entire table, and everyone grabs a glass to save some breakage from happening.

I lift mine for a sip of the rum and Coke I made to hide the smile I’m sporting.

Mia’s eyes are on me, hard. I can’t help but give her a look of complete innocence.