Somebody's Ex

Summary

A
family torn apart by tragedy...

Three
years ago, Lou Jackson, eldest son, died in a work accident. And nothing has
been the same since for the Jacksons. They lost their heart and soul the day
Lou died, even as matriarch Evelyn tries to keep them together. But things are
changing and the family will either find their way back to each other. Or
they’ll be torn asunder.

Randi
Andersen has a thing for bad boys, tall, dark, sexy, and handsome. But bad boys
invariably make for bad relationships. She’s tired of being somebody’s ex,
ex-girlfriend, ex-lover, or ex-wife. Now, if she could just fall in love with a
nice guy.

David
Jackson has lived under the crushing weight of responsibility for holding his
family together since his brother’s death three years ago. Randi is too sexy to
resist, but the last thing he needs now is a relationship. Too much is at stake
with his family falling apart.

Can
they each forgive their own past mistakes in order to take the leap of faith
that love demands?

To
Jenn Mason, for saying just the right thing at just the right time. Thanks also
to Rose Lerma, Christine Zika,and Lucienne Diver for their hard work.

“You can’t just quit on me like
this, David.”

“I’m not quitting, Dad.” David
Jackson sighed and leaned his chair on its two back legs. He’d known this
wouldn’t be easy. “I want to fix up the house, and Rich Morrissey is going to
take me on so I can pick up some of the skills I’m lacking.”

It was the God’s honest truth. He
wanted to do some remodeling around the place he’d bought a couple of years
ago. Though he was handy with his tools, he needed to learn precision, optimum
materials use, and practical shortcuts. Working for Rich part-time would teach
him the homebuilding trade.

“But what about a replacement?”

“You can hire some green kid to
help with loading and hauling.” Which comprised a good portion of the work
Jackson and Sons Arborists did. “I’ll still do tree work when you need me.” The
family tree-trimming outfit could run without him a few days a week. Dad would
still have Jace and Mitch.

“But why?”

“It’s a good opportunity for me.”
Not to mention that he needed a little time off from the family.

“I knew something was up when you
didn’t make it to the last two barbecues.”

The Sunday family barbecues were a
tradition his mom hadn’t allowed to die when Lou did. David had needed time off
from that, too.

“Look, I know this whole thing with
Taylor and Jace has gotten under your skin.”

Taylor and Jace.
His
youngest brother and his eldest brother’s widow. Since the announcement six
weeks ago, he’d been telling himself they hadn’t betrayed Lou. Taylor had a
right to move on.

But marrying Jace? There was
something
wrong
in that.

“My decision has nothing to do with
them.” He’d struggled to keep his feelings to himself since that day at the
hospital, but the effort was wearing on him.

“David, I might be almost sixty
years old, but I’m not stupid. I suspected you had a thing for Taylor, and I
know it’s hard to watch her with Jace.”

Balanced on two chair legs, David
almost fell backward, shock hitting him first. Then he tamped down a burst of
anger. That was the most telling symptom of his current malady, a temper too
close to the surface. In the past, he’d been slow to anger, but recently, the
slightest thing set him off. He dropped his chin and stared at his dad over the
top of his sunglasses. “You’ve gotta be kidding. Where did that come from?”

“I’ve got eyes. You’ve been twitchy
around her for months.”

He’d been twitchy because Lou’s
death had ripped a hole the size of California in the family, tearing apart the
very fabric by which they lived, and filling his big brother’s shoes had been a
helluva lot harder than he’d thought.

But wanting Taylor for himself?
Christ. “Dad, I never had a thing for Taylor.” The thought of being a
second-hand dad to her boys petrified him.

He wanted out for a while. He’d
worked for the family outfit since he was old enough to load the scrap left
behind after a job. Over half his life. The last three years had been the
worst, since Lou died and keeping the family together fell on his shoulders. On
his watch, they’d damn near crumbled beneath the weight of Lou’s passing. He
sucked at being the eldest.

His dad was still giving him the
eye. David felt the need to repeat himself.

“I’m happy for them. I don’t have
any hidden passion for Taylor. And I’ve made my decision.”

His dad’s lips flattened. “I don’t
know how I’m going to tell your mom. She’s going to be heartbroken.”

He should have known Dad would play
the guilt card. David took a deep breath, then let it out long and slow.

“Mom’s going to be fine, and you
know it.”

Arthur Jackson sighed, and
resignation eased the tense line of his jaw. “She should hear it from you.
She’ll want to be sure you’re happy with this move.”

“I planned on dropping by to tell
her tomorrow.”

“And you’re coming to the barbecue
on Sunday or she’ll think you’re mad at us all.”

He was thirty-four years old yet
his father still seemed to think he needed to be told how to handle a delicate
situation. It wasn’t a dig, it was just his dad, but he’d never heard his
father remind Lou about the basics.

David hadn’t handled the situation
well on the day he found out about Taylor and Jace. In fact, he’d been way out
of line. He’d apologized to both of them for the shitty things he said. But
something changed that day, as irrevocably as life had changed the day Lou
died.

He no longer felt a part of his
family, and he’d step away until he could figure out why. He’d leave before he
let loose with something even more damaging than what he had already said to
his brother.

* * * * *

The engine chugged, stuttered, then
died halfway up the hill. The truck, rolling back a short distance, barely made
it to the side of the road, the two left tires still on the macadam.

Dammit. Damn it.

The gas gauge hadn’t worked for
over a year. Randi Andersen measured her gas consumption in miles, but she’d
forgotten to reset the trip the last time she’d filled up, then, dammit, she’d
forgotten that she’d forgotten. Mick, her ex, was fond of saying she’d forget
her head if it wasn’t screwed on.

“This is not my day.” First, Royal
went ballistic in the middle of the night, barked her fool head off, and got
herself sprayed by a skunk. Two baths and three quart cans of tomato juice
later, the dog’s coat still emanated eau de skunk.

Then Randi had punched off the
alarm without fully awakening and fallen back to sleep for another two hours.

She and Royal were supposed to be
at the vet’s by eight-thirty for the dog’s yearly shots. Even running late,
Randi would have made the time easily, except now she’d run out of gas.

Royal bumped her with a wet doggie
nose as Randi beat her head on the steering wheel. The dog still stunk, a
potpourri of wet fur, tomatoes, and semi-acrid skunk spray.

“Looks like we’re going to have to
hoof it.” The country road was sparsely traveled, making the chance of
vehicular rescue nil. Calling for help wasn’t an option. Her cell phone needed
a new battery since the charge didn’t hold longer than a day. Yes, she’d forgotten
to put it in the charger last night. Thank God she didn’t have to put her head
in the charger nightly, although that might have done something about her
chronic forgetfulness.

Randi snapped on the dog leash.
Leaving Royal in the cab wasn’t a consideration. The heat of a summer day in
Willoughby, California, even this early, would bake her brain. Two and a half
miles to town would take less than an hour. Randi looked at her platform
sandals, which were not made for hiking. Make that an hour and a half, unless
she wanted to risk a sprained ankle.

She shoved at the door with both
hands. It groaned but didn’t budge. The damn thing was getting harder to open
every day. She threw her shoulder into it and practically fell out of the
truck, the door flying wide. Saving herself by slamming her sandal on the
concrete, she jerked her head up at the shriek of tires on the roadway just in
time to see a three-quarter-ton pickup bearing down on her.

Amidst the sound of squealing
tires, her life flashed before her eyes like the old cliché. The knee-holes in
Mick’s jeans on their wedding day in that cheesy Nevada chapel. Her divorce
papers with Mick’s illegible scrawl. Her mom’s fish balls sprinkled with curry
powder. That day her pops stopped talking to her when she was thirteen, the day
that lasted almost a year.

Her last thought before she died:
I
really am a loser.

Her body must have been flattened
beyond pain because she didn’t feel a thing except warm sunshine heating the
top of her head and the pungent aroma of burnt rubber in her nostrils.

“Lady, are you insane opening your
door like that?”

No, I’m dead.

But wait, the angry drawl didn’t
sound like the angel Gabriel. Or was it Peter who was supposed to meet you at
the Pearly Gates? And hey, what about the tunnel of light?

Randi opened her eyes to an
enormous truck bumper staring her in the face. Brilliant sunlight bouncing off
the chrome blinded her. Her neck hurt from the awkward angle at which she held
her head, looking back at that terrifyingly close grill. Her little truck was a
mere ant compared to the monster pickup only a few inches from her rear bumper.

Hands on his hips, booted feet
spread wide, and his chin jutted forward so he could stare her down, Randi
decided the man was too pissed to be an angel.

He’d asked if she was insane. She
had to admit that statement was a darn sight better than what Mick would have
said.
Are you a fucking idiot?

One foot in the truck, the other
out, she was suddenly aware of the awkward spread of her legs, and the three
popped snaps on her jean skirt. Only two remained holding it together.

Holy Moly! If he came any closer,
he’d see her thong.

She hastily snapped the buttons on
her skirt. Hopping out too quickly, she stumbled, catching herself with a hand
on the top of the door.

“My door was stuck.”

One side of his mouth curled. A
snarl, not a smile. “So you figured you’d just stick it out so someone could
rip it off? Not to mention ripping off the top half of your body.”

He perused her top half with fiery
eyes. His sunglasses swung from the fingers of his clenched fist, and the sun
made his gaze burn. With her five-inch platforms, he was only an inch or so
taller than her, but he seemed to tower. And glower.

He took a giant step closer.

Royal started to growl.

Randi shuffled forward and slammed
the door hard. Of course, that brought her less than two feet from him, so
close she could now see his eyes were the color of a Hawaiian black sand beach.
Glitteringly dark with silvery flecks.

He arched a brow.

“It doesn’t like to shut,” she explained,
in case he thought she’d slammed it out of pique. “The dog doesn’t bite, but
I’ve never been threatened before, so I’m not sure how she’ll react.”

“This is not threatening. This is
mildly pissed off.”

“Mildly?” Half joke, half fear. Her
breathing had returned to normal, but her heart pulsed a beat too quickly.

“If I was really pissed, I wouldn’t
have stopped. Or gone around.”

He looked up the hill at the blind
spot, communicating his thought that going around her open door might have
resulted in a head-on with someone coming the other way.