The Heart (14 page)

“What’s new with you, Rose?” Jack said, looking at my parted lips with amusement. Today he looked dead sexy in a light green cotton t-shirt that outlined the taut muscles in his chest and arms. His eyes sparkled with more blue than gray and glittered with sexy mischief.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve got a little time in between jobs so I thought I’d lend a hand until the center opens. That okay with you?” He gripped my wrist again, taking another large bite of my apple, and I pulled away, digging a spare out of the small cooler next to me then thrust the one he’d almost devoured toward him.

“No thanks, I’m not hungry,” he said with a seriousness that had me chuckling with an eye roll. He was fun when he was playful.

“I have to admit something,” Jack said as he took a seat next to me on the top of the cement table and leaned in.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I asked, curious and elated that he was sitting next to me, in front of me again. My heart began to pick up its pace.

“I’ve done nothing but think about you since I left,” he said, making me pause mid-bite. I took my mouth away from our shared apple with a sigh.

“Jack, about the way I acted,” I began apologetically.

“
I
acted like a total ass,” he said, matching my tone. “I have to admit,” he continued, grinning at me devilishly, “getting shot down before I even had a chance to plead my case—” he shook his head with humor “—is not something I’m used to. I didn’t quite know what to make of it. It’s still no excuse, so I’m going to have to beg your forgiveness.” He leaned in and gripped the side of my head, rubbing his thumb along my top lip. “You knocked the wind out of me.”

“Jack...”

“Hear me out,” he murmured as his eyes implored mine. “I’m not the kind of guy that can’t take no for an answer, but I can’t help but want to try again. And, well, if you shoot me down again, at least I can say I went down with my second wind.”

He leaned in close, his breath hitting my skin. Everything in me peaked, and for the first time since we met, my fear dissipated and thoughts of only him surrounded me in a cloud. I breathed in deeply, both in relief that he was there and in the fact that he wanted to try again. At that moment, I knew that I wanted him, and I wanted him to have me the way he wanted.

“And my dad?”

“It’s not like we don’t like each other. Hell, for all I know, I’m just being paranoid. Either way, we don’t have to say a word to anyone, for now.”

“I don’t know what I’m capable of,” I said honestly as he captured me with his soothing hands and soft eyes. “I swear. I don’t know if I’m capable of anything at all.”

“Then I guess we’ll see,” he said as he leaned in and brushed his lips on my cheek. “You’re shaking,” he whispered, running his hands through my hair. “I don’t want you afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” I leaned into him, completely intoxicated, my picnic forgotten.

“Maybe you should be,” he whispered an inch from my lips, “because the first time I kiss you, I’m bringing everything I’ve got.”

“Aunt Wose!”

Our cloud disbursed quickly as an excited Grant came barreling toward us as fast as his little legs would move him, his father close behind.

“Hey, baby blue,” I said as I met him halfway and scooped him up in my arms. He quickly started wiggling in protest so I let him down with a sigh.

“Can we pway de goft tart?”

I looked at Jack in apology and noticed him eying Grant with fondness in his eyes. Grant had a way of doing that. Jack looked over at me and gave me a wink.

“Jack,” Dean greeted him with a short but friendly handshake.

“Dean,” Jack replied as they both looked at me expectantly.

“Oh, yes,” I said, looking down at Grant, who was growing impatient for an answer.

“I’ll go with you,” Jack said, looking at Dean. “You in? I must warn you, she’s a bit reckless on the cart. We might want to look for protective gear.”

“Shut up and get on,” I barked as I pulled my keys out of my pocket.

“And militant,” Jack muttered to Dean under his breath as I cut my eyes at him.

“You should have seen her at ten years old,” Dean said with a laugh as we all piled on the cart. I gave Dean a warning look, which he ignored.

“Brightest red hair in the state of Texas, and dear lord her mouth, a mile a minute and so full of shit.”

I caught little Grant’s gasp and eventual “Daddy say shit.”

“Good job, Martin,” I piped as Dean made a hissing sound through his teeth followed by an “Oops. Don’t tell Mommy.”

I belly laughed as we took off. Grant giggled gleefully with each speed bump. After a solid half hour of ‘pway’, we stopped again at the main building to see a waiting Dallas walking Annabelle around in the grass. Her little fingers were fisted around her mother’s.

“Hey, Daddy,” Dallas called to Dean. “Watch this!”

She loosened Annabelle’s death grip and the baby took two bold and purposeful steps forward before falling back into her mother. Dean shot out of the back seat, ran to Annabelle, and picked her up, giving her encouraging words as he showered her with kisses.

“Did we just see her first steps?” Jack asked with a hopeful hint in his voice.

I tried to hide my glazing eyes as I whispered a hoarse, “Yep.”

“Wow.” I looked over at Jack, who was looking on at my family with admiration. There was something unquestionably good about Jack, and I saw it in that moment.

“Daddy say shit!” Grant called out as he exited the cart. Dallas lifted her head skyward and shook it as if to ask ‘why’ while Jack and I laughed at the spectacle before us. Dean hung his head and then nuzzled Annabelle as Dallas informed Grant no one liked a tattle. I knew that firsthand, especially since I was the one who did most of it in our youth, Dallas being the victim.

“See you tonight?” Dallas called out to me.

“Yes,” Jack and I both said in unison.

“Wait,” I said, looking back at Jack. “You’re coming to my parents?”

“Rose, I’ve been to dinner every few months for the last ten years.”

“How old are you?” I asked, no longer sure of our age difference.

“I’m thirty-seven,” he answered, matter of fact.

He was quite a bit older than I’d originally thought, although he didn’t look a day over thirty. He was blessed with good genes, and the ones he filled out were even better.

“So I guess I’ll see you there?”

“Guess so,” he said, taking his leave and giving the Martins a soft wave. He turned to me and winked before he walked to his bike. Dallas looked between us and gave me a full on smile that I pretended to ignore.

One of the things I’d always loved about my family home is that it was unpredictable. On any given day, anything could happen. My parents vowed to each other long ago to never take a day for granted, and though a good amount of days at the Whittaker house were relatively boring, a good many were filled with excitement. And the source of that excitement had always been the brainchild of my parents. Tonight was no exception. They’d decided to host a fiesta.

I walked into the beautiful, Spanish-style house my father had built years before I was born and heard hysterical laughter. I noted Jack’s bike in the drive as I shut the front door and a little jolt of something raced through me. He’d threatened to kiss me and do it well. It was kind of an asinine thing to be excited about as an adult woman, yet it was warmly welcomed by
this
woman. I was in dire need of sexual attention, but I already knew Jack wanted to take things slow.

I entered the kitchen to find my mother blending margaritas while Al Green sang “Love and Happiness
”
in the background.

“Hello,” I called out as my dad looked up at me with a grin.

“Little woman!”

I hesitated only a second before I walked toward him to give him a hug. He was a little too enthusiastic.

“And how many margaritas have you had today, sir?” I asked in jest as I pretended not to look around for Jack, who was nowhere in sight.

“Your mom may have challenged me earlier, and I may have risen to it.”

“And you may have lost your ass on that bet,” my mother piped in happily behind him as she slowed the blender. “Hey, Rose, margarita?”

“What’s with the celebration?” I said, noting my mother’s slow execution of pour before she thrust a huge salted glass of margarita in my face.

“Our son is pregnant with our fifth grandchild and our daughters are about to open a clinic to save thousands of lives. What parent wouldn’t be celebrating?” my father roared as my mother started a new batch in the blender.

“Paul!” I yelled at the top of my lungs just as he poked his head in the kitchen with a smile. “Another one?”

“Yep,” he said as I lunged at him and hugged him tightly to me.

My brother Paul was a replica of my father with strawberry blond hair and green eyes. His face was filled with pride as he looked down at me. “Can you believe it?”

“Absolutely! I’m so happy for you!” I mused then looked past him in search of his wife. “Where is she?”

“She went to pick up the twins and head home, she’s having it rough this time with sickness, but she told me to tell you to come by sometime this week.”

The concerned doctor in me spoke up. “Ah, that sucks. Are you giving her—”

My older brother rolled his eyes at me while he cut me off. “Yes, doc, we have it under control. You forget your
other
brother is her doctor.” My brother and his wife had a horrible time trying to conceive naturally. I could honestly claim my sister’s husband Dean was responsible for the birth of all four of my nieces and nephews. Not only had he given Dallas the gift of her children, but as a specialist, he’d helped my brother conceive his.

“Right.” I smiled at him, my chest bursting with pride. “Well, I’ve been meaning to come by, anyway. I want some time with the twins.”

“Anytime, Rosebud,” he said, taking a large sip of my margarita before handing it back to me.

“Where is everybody?”

“In the living room,” he said, walking past me with an empty glass, holding it out toward my mother.

She smiled at him with the same tenderness she would with Dallas or me. Though Paul had been a result of my father’s first marriage, words like half-brother or step-mom never crossed either of their lips. We were family, and there was no half to it as far as my mother was concerned. She’d accepted Paul as her own and never looked back.

Al Green grew louder as I entered the living room and took note of the full-fledged party before me. I saw my nephew first, getting down as he bounced his diaper-clad butt around the room. His chubby hands were at his sides and he was doing the dancing type squat thing that babies often do. I was completely enamored as I looked up to Dallas, who was recording him with her cell phone, a doting smile on her face. I loved that look on her. Dallas had been such a hard-ass her whole life, and though we all loved her regardless, it was disarming to see her so in love with her family. She was a glowing mother, one that took pride in her children and adored them, though she often voiced otherwise. Admittedly, her babies were hard to handle, both bursting with personality and quite demanding. It would definitely take a village to raise them, and thankfully, that’s what we were. I loved being a part of it all. It was without a doubt one of the best parts of my life.

I was more than entertained watching Grant until I saw who he was mimicking. Jack had Annabelle in his arms and was swinging his hips to the music in perfect time. My mouth dropped as I watched him move around the living room like a trained lady-killer while he entertained the little girl in his arms. Dallas was too busy watching her son give it all he had to notice Jack. I quickly scanned the room to find Dean digging through my parents’ old records. My father had kept a good amount of them from my parents ‘rave’ days, and every once in a while they would break them out. Apparently, tonight seemed like a good time, but it was the second generation hosting this party. Annabelle laughed and cooed at Jack as the wind from his movement ran through her raven hair. With each dip Jack made with his hips, she screamed out with a giggle. Dallas egged Grant on with a “Go, baby, go,” laughing to herself as Grant really got into it, shaking everything he had. I laughed along with her, still a bit dazzled at Jack’s ability to move the way he did. I found it sexy as hell.

A feeling of fullness I hadn’t experienced in some time surfaced as a memory of the time my parents had attempted to teach us to dance flittered across my mind. I looked to Dallas with sentimental eyes.

She would do the same for her kids, and I would be right there to help her.

Dallas had no rhythm at all, and I was full of it. Not wanting to interrupt the scene unfolding in front of me, I danced along with them at the living room entrance. Minutes later, I found Jack looking over at me in greeting with a warm smile and the lift of his chin. He wasn’t shy at all about the fact that he was dancing in my parents’ living room.

“Rose, are you seeing this?!” Dallas howled as her son roared and pulled out his best dance moves. I watched him with pride as the song finally ended, or rather, Dean scratched the record to put on some old school Michael Jackson.