JAX (Breaking the Declan Brothers #1) (2 page)

I’m also
that
girl. Ya know, the one the guys in high school wanted to fuck and the one the girls loved to hate. Can’t say I wanted this face or this body, but I own it. I’m not sayin’ it’s all bad because looking the way I do has its benefits. Still, people seldom take me seriously.

Drawn to the stand with the plums, I pick one up and smell it, but the dark skin traps in all the sweetness. I pay for a few, toss them in my bag, and keep one in my hand. I bite into it, look up, and arrive at the darkest eyes this great earth has been blessed with. Acquainted with those eyes, my body reacts on impulse, flushing with that old familiar heat ensured by the palm-biting Jax Declan. Below those sinfully dark eyes sit a small but sexy lopsided grin, and a little lower, a wide broad chest stretches the hell out of a light gray tee. With the collar of the shirt stretched, I catch a glimpse of where his shoulder and neck meet, those muscles running together a delicious sight. Even his scapula looks lickable.

And, hot damn! When did he fill out? I’m not talking about filling out from too many beers and midnight snacks, either. He’s stacked. His biceps bulge from the sleeves of that perfectly fitting t-shirt, veins straining beneath his tanned forearms as he carries a crate full of fruit. I want to try him on. Wear him. Wrap his entire body around mine.

It takes a second or two for my brain to finally comprehend that all that hot testosterone of a perfect male species is heading straight for me.

He drops the crate on the table and arches a brow. There’s no mistaking it.
He
recognizes me.

“You better get that.” He nudges a stubble-darkened chin at me.

“What,” I ask, shifting my hip, and making every stride to hide my response to his ultra-male-hotness. God, how I’ve missed those eyes, and don’t even get me started on that mouth.

“I’m not sure,” his eyes squint down at me, “it might be from that plum in your hand, but then again, it could also be mistaken for drool. Either way, I don’t think whatever you got drippin’ down there from your chin is beauty queen decorum.”

Shit! I swipe a hand across my chin in the most unladylike way.

Yeah, my mother succeeded. She got me in that damn beauty pageant. I came runner-up. Obviously, still to this day, Jax Declan won’t let me live it down. I never wanted to be a beauty queen. That’s why I got out of here, went to college, and started a new life somewhere no one knew me.

 “Oh, Jax!” Mrs. Owens, hair a little greyer and thinner, comes walking over in a flannel shirt and jeans. “Thanks for getting that stuff out of the truck for me.” She reaches up and pats him on a nicely rounded shoulder.

Either Mrs. Owens shrunk or Jax grew a few inches. I don’t recall him being so tall. Then again, I usually had heels on when I was this close to him. Today I’m sporting flip-flops. I glance at his hands. Dammit. He has work gloves on so I can’t tell if he’s wearing a wedding band.

“It’s my pleasure.” He claps his gloved hands together, winking down at the elderly lady.

She waves a finger at him. “Now, you be sure to take a pie for you and your boys.” She turns to me with a quick smile before attending to a customer.

Your boys? Is she talking about his kids? This needs some investigating. “Well, you haven’t changed a bit have you, Jax Declan. Still lending a helping hand to the damsels in distress.” I take a bite of my plum and follow it up with another swipe of my fingers across my chin.

He sets his gloved hands on his hips. My eyes follow them to his trim waist, and the way his jeans gather at the crotch. Christ! Perhaps all the Declan boys really do have an exceptional rod. He’s packing something colossal in that denim.

“What?” he drawls with that sexy southern tongue. “Rather I pamper every princess in a dress?”

“If you did,” I look up from his crotch, fully aware that he saw me checking out his divine package, and smile, “you’d certainly get something other than sweet, little old ladies’ homemade pies.”

“Yeah, but my boys, they sure do love Mrs. Owen’s pie.”

“Always the pleaser.” I grin. Someone’s had to have snagged him up by now. Right? There’s no way he’s not married. Especially in the Bayou, where the population is a whopping 1500. The pickins are real slim.

“Hey, what can I say,” his eyes drift to my mouth, “I do like pie, too.”

Was that a sexual innuendo, payback for the eye wander to his crotch? I chew on the sweetness in my mouth. Nay, Jax doesn’t make passes at girls. He’s the polite Declan brother. Strolls on the straight and narrow and never gets in trouble. His job is keeping the other two brothers in check. 

Well, nevertheless, here goes nothin’. “And like any good pie,” I take another nibble of my fruit and drag a finger across my bottom lip to catch the juices there, “it must be eaten.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Emmie Rue.” His dark eyes lift to mine. “I am an exceptional pie eater.”

“Is that from experience, Jax? Have you been eatin’ a lot of pie lately? Been participating in the festival pie eating contests or something?” I try to stay moderate in case I’m reading too much into this whole pie thing.

“As a matter of fact, I got the blue ribbon,” his eyelids lower, along with his voice, “hangin’ over my headboard.”

Oh. My. God! I think he
is
flirting with me, and I think my pussy just cried a little. Yeah, it did, just a tiny bit. I need to get him to take those gloves off right now! I need to know if he’s taken.

“I’m not sure that’s the best place to display it. Who’ll see it?” Your wife? Girlfriend? Kids?

“Shit, Emmie Rue. I’m not lookin’ to brag about my talent. It’s not like I have to wear a crown so that everyone knows I’m an exceptional,” his upper lip twitches, “pie eater.”

For cryin’ out loud! I was thirteen, and my mother made me wear that damn tiara for an entire week after I won runner-up! Obviously, something else Jax Declan’s not gonna let me live down.

“Well, you should. Talents
like that aren’t something you should hide,” I say. I want to fuck him, drag his sexy ass to some dark corner and do him right now. Oww…I’m gonna have fun breaking this Declan brother. That’s if he’s not taken, or, oh God, gay. By the way he’s speaking to me right now, I’m starting to think he’s into girls.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” He hitches a gloved thumb into his front jean pocket. And, dammit, my eyes want to follow the action. But I’m not going to look down at his crotch. I’m not! “Not everyone knows about my talents.” He hefts one of those nicely rounded shoulders. “Just a very selective few.”

“And now me,” I say with a smile.  

“Yeah, by hearsay.” He chuckles, low and husky. God, just that little sound tickles my pussy. “Hey, how long you plannin’ to be in town? Perhaps you can see me in action.” He takes the glove off his right hand, reaches into the crate, and picks up an apple. “Ya know, the Vista Festival is coming up in a few weeks.”

“And you’ll be eating pie there?” Please, please take off your other glove. I’m dying here!

“I might enter the contest.” He tosses the apple up in the air and then, with his eyes still locked on mine, he easily catches it. “But I’m thinkin’ I might need to hone my skills.”

“What, a little out of practice when it comes to your pie eating skills?” Damn, I hope we’re on the same page here. He is taking about eating something other than pie, right. I’m not imagining all this, am I? Fact is, when it comes to Jax Declan, I very well could be.

“No,” he says, watching me as I walk to the garbage can to get rid of my eaten plum. “But it’s hard to find the perfect one,” he pauses, his eyes following me as I walk back to stand in front of him. “Some are too sweet, some too tart, and some just too damn bitter.” Eyes still right on me, he takes a slow bite of his apple. I hear the peeling break against his teeth, and it shoots straight to my cresting nipples.

“So…” I watch his lips press against the fruit again, and I squeeze my thighs, imagining his mouth between them. “You haven’t found your ‘just right’ pie yet?”

His eyebrows flicker as he chews on the apple. I wipe my bottom lip, ‘cause as he mentioned, drooling is not beauty queen decorum, and observing him eating that damn apple and talking about freaking pies—hell, it’s got me torqued.

I’m not usually this easy, but Jax Declan always had a way about him that reached right in and made my entire body kick and scream like a kid refused at the candy store. He’s never gone as far as playing with me as he is now. Our chats, typically started by me, usually ended with his polite but short responses. Our conversations never lasted longer than a few sentences. God knows I tried, but no matter what I threw at the guy, he refused to take the bait. 

Until, today. Yay me…I think?

“So, tell me, Emmie Rue, what are you doing back in the Bayou?”

“Rayna, me, and a friend of ours are staying at Rayna’s sister’s place on Dolphin Road for the summer. We thought it’d be fun to come back and, ya know, see everyone.” I shove my fingers into the back pockets of my shorts, which lifts my shirt, and I know my belly’s exposed. Yeah, that’s me, trying to throw myself at Jax Declan, yet again. Old habits die hard. But there’s no shame in going after what you want, and a small part of me thinks he might just take the bait. “Looks like much hasn’t changed, though.” I glance around and come back to him with a smile.

He takes another bite of his apple. His eyes roll down my body, pausing at my bellybutton. “You’re right about that,” head tilted downward, he looks up at me, “looks like you’re still trying to use that body of yours to get what you want.”

“And if I am?” I push my fingers deeper into my back pockets. I will not back down. He’s not going to make me shrink back into my skin with those hard, unreadable eyes. “Tell me, Jax, is it working?”

He stares at me for a few excruciating seconds, then tosses his eaten apple into the garbage can. He picks up his glove from the table and slaps it into his hand. He looks back at me, chuckles lightly, and his gaze holds my breath for a few seconds. His grin wanes and his eyes darken. “Maybe, I’ll see you around.”

 “Oh, you can bet on that.” I sweetly smile as I watch his fine ass walk away.

CHAPTER THREE

I flip the eggs in the frying pan. Zeke strolls in, hair sticking out every which way, jeans still on but unbuttoned. “Mornin’, fucker,” I say as I turn back to my food.

“Mornin’, buttercup.” He leans over my shoulder. “Wanna make me a couple of those?”

“No.” I scoop up the eggs, slide them on the plate, and toss some bacon next to them. I hand my breakfast to him. “Here.”  I can’t deny my little brothers anything; a problem I’ve had since our parents died.

“Thanks, dude.” He picks up a piece of bacon and pops it in his mouth.

“Thought you were gonna stay away from Missy Mills.” I shake my hands, mocking his earlier gesture. “Too clingy.”

“She agreed to the rules.” He shrugs and plops down in a chair at the table.

My little bro and his damn rules—every girl in Galveston County knows about them, has agreed to them or is considering them. I tilt my head and look out the window at Missy Mills’ black Monte Carlo. “Looks like it didn’t last long. She already broke rule number three,” I glance over at him, “no sleepovers.”

“Fuck. She was trashed. I couldn’t let her drive home like that.” He picks up another piece of bacon. Zeke might be a player, but he has a big heart. For some reason, there just ain’t any room in it for love. “Gave her my bed and I slept in the den.” He shoves more of my breakfast into his mouth.

“I don’t know. I’m thinkin’ you were right to let her alone, ‘cause I got a feelin’ you’re gonna have trouble with that one.”

“Nothin’ I can’t handle. Hey,” his brows lift, “ya know who I think I mighta saw yesterday? Rayna.”

“Yeah. Emmie Rue and Rayna are staying at her sister’s place for the summer.”

“Oh-ho. Emmie Rue,” Zeke says with a shit-eaten-grin.

“What?”

“Oh, come on, dude. I know you always had a hard-on for that girl. Why do you think I never hit that pretty little ass?”

“Fuck you.” I turn back to the stove, not about to have this conversation with my little bro. 

“Fuck
Emmie Rue
,” Zeke taunts.

“Hey, watch it, fucker,” I glance over my shoulder and point the spatula at him. “You’re not too old for me to give ya a good ass whoopin’.”

“I’d like to see you try it, old man.”

I jump forward and lunge my fist. Zeke’s head snaps back. He’s quick, always has been.

“You missed.” He laughs.

“Yeah,” I smirk, “meant to.” Though, I should’ve knocked him on his ass. He’s given me nothing but shit since I turned thirty last month. I’m getting real tired of the jabs. I slump back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. “Does Slate know Rayna’s in town?”

“Nay, he’s been in bed since he stumbled in yesterday morning. He doesn’t know what’s happenin’ out in the real world.”

“You check on him at all?”

“Yeah, he’s still alive.  I had gone in his room before I came in here, gave him a poke, and he growled at me. But I don’t think he’s gonna make it tonight. You might have to cover for him.”