JAX (Breaking the Declan Brothers #1) (3 page)

“Fuck that, what about Rocko? He’s been itchin’ to get in.”

Zeke shakes his head. “He’s in Austin for work or some shit. Won’t be back till Sunday.”

“Fuck!” There’s no way I’m taking over for Slate tonight. I scrub a hand over my unshaven chin. Damn, I need to shave. “Hey. What about Tommy?”

Zeke smirks. “He won’t last longer than ten seconds and you know it.” He stands up, carries his plate over to the sink, and sets a hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, geezer. You’re gonna have to pull up those saggin’ balls of yours for the night, and get back in the saddle. That, or go get Slate’s ass up, but I’m thinkin’ that’ll cause more damage than good.”

“Shit.” I shrug his hand off my shoulder, knowing he’s right.

“I’ll let Rusty know to put you on the roster tonight instead of Slate. I think you’re with McLaren, the kid from Pasadena.” He walks out of the kitchen saying, “Don’t worry, old geezer. We all know you still got it.”

Appetite gone, I throw the spatula in the sink and click off the stove. I slip on my sneakers and head out the door, needing to exhort my rising agitation with a good run. Plus, it’ll do the muscles some good. Get ‘em pumped for tonight.

Four miles into my run, I reach Tiki Island and stop. I place my hands on my knees to catch my breath and peer out at the Galveston Bay. Man, it’s beautiful.

“You’re tough to keep up with,” Emmie Rue says, as she skids alongside me. And like me, she bends over, breathing heavy.

I look at her from the corner of my eye, skin glistening with sweat. “You following me, Emmie Rue?”

“Yeah, since I caught sight of you leaving the Bayou,” she swallows some more air, “but damn,” she takes another deep breath, “you’re fast.” She stands up, bouncing from one foot to the other, her perky tits bobbing up and down. “It’s called jogging for a reason.”

I straighten to my full height. “Huh, I thought it was called running.” I reach for the collar of my t-shirt and pull it down to let some air in. “So, you jog?”

“Everyone in Manhattan jogs,” she flicks her head and the piece of hair hanging over her left eye jumps back into place, “or at least they like to brag about it.”

“And you? You like to brag about it or are ya gettin’ it done?” In Manhattan? So that’s where she’s been.

“Oh, I jog, but normally only around five miles. I get the rest done at the gym,” she says. “What was that, about five miles?” She looks behind us.

“Four, I try to do around eight every other day, and like you, I get the rest done at the gym.”

“It’s working,” her eyes run down the length of my body, making me want to take my shirt completely off to cool the fuck down. “What are you now, thirty? Oh, yeah,” she points at me with a grin, “you just had a birthday, didn’t you?”

I slowly nod. She remembers my birthday, that’s odd. Then again, I remember hers, too. December 13. I waited patiently for her eighteenth birthday. Counted down those last few months, eliminating each day in my head, anticipating the day she’d be old enough for me to claim her.

A few years older than her, my attraction to Emmie Rue, when it struck, scared the fuck out of me. I was too old for her. Besides, she needed time to spread her wings, and I needed time to learn how to control mine. And sure, back then, other guys my age were dating girls still in high school, but that wasn’t for me. I was okay with it, too. Until, every chance she got, Emmie Rue started throwing her beautiful body at me. Still, I held strong, but one week before I could get what I so desperately wanted, the week before Emmie Rue’s eighteenth birthday, Grams passed away. And that left me with the job of looking after my two out-of-hand younger brothers. At twenty-one, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Two years later, when I started getting my shit back together, Emmie Rue went away to college.

“Yeah, and Zeke won’t let me forget it.” I turn to her. “You gonna be able to make it back?”

“Yep,” she sets her hands on her tight spandex-covered hips, “even if it kills me.”

“Always the confident one,” I grimace; something that got her in more trouble than not. I wanted to kick the shit out of every high school punk in her class. But I was an adult, and that’d only get my ass tossed in jail.

She thrusts those perfect lush breasts out and smirks at me. I scowl. The damn girl’s always using that gorgeous, seamless body of hers to affect men. It’s not gonna work on me. I’ve waited too long, and I refuse to settle for just Emmie Rue’s body.

“Jax,” she tilts her head as if interpreting my mounting agitation, “are you gay?”

Wow. Hey now, where the fuck did that come from? I get that I didn’t respond to her flirtation just now, but gay? I stare at her, trying to keep my expression flat.

“It’s just I don’t recall you dating anyone while you were in high school, and I can’t remember seeing you with any girls after you graduated, and…” She presses her lips together. “Well, if you’re gay. It’d be okay.”

“I know it’d be okay if I’m fucking gay,” I snap. I have a few friends who are gay. I’m cool with it. No homophobic shit going on here. But does she really think I swing that way? Looking back, yeah, okay, maybe I was discreet about my sexual activities. After my first experience, well, things didn’t go so well. It had taken me another year before I tried it again.

“I’m sorry.” She waves a hand at me. “It’s none of my business. It was rude of me to ask.”

“You’re damn right it was.” My hands fist at my sides. Stunned and, really, unable to come up with a better response. Gay? Me? Really?

“Come on, let’s head back,” she says, saving me from grabbing her and showing her how wrong she is. “But I’m warning you,” she jogs in place, “you may have to carry me part of the way.”

I give her a tight smile, and we head out to the road. Muscles burning from the run and from what Emmie Rue said. It’s driving me insane, her thinking that I’m not attracted to her. Shit, she’d be a lot safer if I preferred men.

Did she think for all those years I denied her because I was gay? Hell, I would’ve welcomed to desire anything other than her. Shit would’ve been a lot easier not aching for her every day.

“I’m getting off here,” she calls from over her shoulder when we reach Dolphin Road. “I’ll see you around,” she says, sending her new ‘gay’ friend a sweet smile. Then, she turns back to the road.

Fuck that. I can’t let her leave me right now thinking what she thinks. I grab her wrist. Her back crashes against me. I turn her around. Our eyes meet. We’re both breathing heavy. We stand staring at each other as we catch our breath. Then, she opens her mouth, but I hush her with a finger to mine. And like a good girl, she obeys. Fuck, my cock likes that.

I push the fallen hair back from her forehead with a finger and cup the sides of her sweaty face in my hands. Damn. She feels like wet silk. I drop my eyes to her partially opened mouth and lean forward until our lips are but a hair’s breadth away. I look back up into her bright blue eyes, slide my thumb out, and run it along her plump bottom lip. Her eyes flutter. Head tilting back a little, she bites the lip I just caressed.

“Em.” I gently pull her lip down from her teeth with the pad of my thumb. “The only tight place my cock likes to be is deep inside a woman.”

Eyes hooded, she gazes up at me. “Ah,” she licks her bottom lip again, “that’s good to, ah,” she clears her throat, her long lashes batting up at me, “to know.”

“Now,” I chuckle, “I don’t know about that.” I drop my hands from her face, the look in her eyes telling me that the wait for Emmie Rue will definitely be worth it. “Maybe,” I smile, “I’ll see you around, huh,” I say, before jogging back toward the road completely satisfied that I cleared up the whole I’m not gay shit.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Ladies, your chariot awaits,” I hear Rayna yell from outside.

Lurlene peeks out the screen door. “She’s got a damn golf cart with lights on it, pink ones, and they’re blinking.”

“Yeah, most people on the Bayou have ‘em. The golf cart, not the lights.” I pick up my purse. “Leave it to Rayna to deck ours out like a damn Christmas tree. Come on, let’s go.”

I lock up and follow Lurlene down the stairs. It’s getting dark. The sun is nearly gone from the horizon.

“Oh-ho, look at you,” Rayna fans her face, “you’re smokin’,” she turns to me. “You did that?”

“She looks great, doesn’t she?” I beam at Lurlene.

“I guess those pageants your mother put you through didn’t all go to waste. You transformed this girl into a princess,” Lurlene says, fluffing her dark copper hair. “Well,” she drops her hand, “at least, I feel like one.”

“Oh, there was always a princess in there. She just needed some coaxing to come on out,” I say. She really is a pretty girl in a wholesome, innocent way. That’s why I didn’t put too much make-up on her, just a little lip-gloss and some mascara. I did, however, enhance her nicely rounded B-cups with a snug shirt and talked her into wearing a short skirt to show off her long legs.

I glance at Rayna in a low cut t-shirt and tight skinny jeans. “So, what kind of trouble do you have planned for us tonight?”

“You know me so well.” She laughs. “I ran into Melody Richards, you remember her?”

Oh, I remember Melody Richards. We’d gone to her house after prom. My date got drunk and a tad too frisky at the party. He was having difficulty hearing me when I said “no.” Luckily, Rayna and Slate found us in the basement. And everyone in high school knew Zeke was the fighter when it came to the Declan brothers, not Slate. So, when Slate told my date to back off, he ignored him and continued to push me to leave with him. And I mean he physically pushed me. But Slate came to my rescue. Surprising us all, he beat the shit out of my date.

The cops showed up, and then a few minutes later so had Jax. And the look on his face was frightening as hell for it was aimed directly at me.

Jax knew one of the officers, went to school with him or something, and after Jax had spoken to him, the cop let Slate off. Jax instructed Slate to take Rayna home. Then he turned to me and ordered me into his car.

That night in his car was the first time I’d ever been alone with Jax. Eyes fixed on the road, he didn’t say a word as he drove me home. And the tightness in his jaw, coupled with the furrow in his brow, made a part of me feel as though I’d disappointed him. I had, after all, teased my date to oblivion. It was my niche.

When we got to my house, all I wanted to do was get away from Jax and all of his graphic disapproval. I reached for the door handle, but he stopped me. He grabbed my arm, and when our skin touched, a rush of heat, fear, and anticipation had washed through me. Then he called me Em—no one ever called me that, but I liked hearing him say it. “You okay,” he said, and unable to find my voice, I only nodded. “He didn’t…” He paused and his face hardened.

“Oh! No,” I quickly responded, understanding what he was getting at. It had come real close, but thankfully, his brother had saved me.

He let out a loud, gruff sigh, and his hand tightened on my arm. “What happened to you, it wasn’t your fault. You hear me?” Head lowered, embarrassed to the bones, I nodded again. “Some boys can get rough,” his voice softened, “some don’t always listen when you tell them to stop, and some boys, they’re just monsters.” He placed a finger under my chin and lifted my head until our eyes met. “You gotta be careful who you play with, okay, Em?” Once more, all I could do was bob my head up and down. “Now, go on,” he said and dropped his hands from me.

I jumped out of that car, ran right into my house, straight up to my bedroom, and I cried my eyes out.

Still, even to this day, when I’m flirting with some guy, like a warning bell, Jax’s words ring in my ears. And because of that, I honestly don’t get around as much as I lead people to believe.

I climb in the golf cart. “Yeah, I remember Melody.”

“Well, I ran into her today, said she’s working at some new bar on Bowden Street.”

“Where the abandoned mobile homes are,” I ask.

“Yep, that’s the spot. It’s called Jay’s. I told her that we’d stop by for a few. Sound good?”

“I’m game,” Lurlene says, and I shrug my shoulders as if I really have a choice.

Ten minutes later, we pull into a parking lot full of cars, trucks, and golf carts. There’s a neon sign in the front of the huge barn-like establishment.

“Are you sure this is the right place, the sign says JZS, not Jay’s.” I glance at Rayna.

“I’m sure it is.” Lurlene gets out of the cart, yanking on her skirt. “If you don’t spell out the letters, they’d sound the same.”

“Excuse me, little Ms. English teacher,” I say, as Rayna and I climb out of the cart, too.

Lurlene smirks at me. “Jeez, Emmie, this skirt is too damn short,” she complains as she tugs at it again.

“Stop it,” Rayna slaps her hand, “you look hot. Hey, maybe we’ll see Zeke here tonight.”

“Speakin’ of the Declan brothers,” I look at Rayna, who’s readjusting her bra, “have you seen Slate yet?”

“No,” she says, dropping her hand and glancing at the bar. “Come on,” she hooks her arms into mine and Lurlene’s, “let’s get in there, and cause some trouble. You never know, perhaps we’ll see Jax tonight, too. And now that we know he’s obviously not gay, maybe you can break that boy.”