Undeniable (A Country Roads Novel) (29 page)

“Oh, Jax,” she said, inhaling sharply. Grace had never seen Jax cry, not once, and he was crying for her.

“I keep seeing it…seeing you…bound…with his arms around you…touching you…and that gun…God, that gun…” He closed his eyes and turned into her, wrapping his arms around her and placing his head over her heart.

Grace pulled her legs up onto the bed so she could wrap herself around him. She rested her head on the back of his neck, one of her hands stroking his shoulders, the other in his hair.

“I can’t lose you…I can’t…do it,” he choked out.

“I know. I can’t lose you, either. I love you, Jax,” she said, kissing the nape of his neck.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” he said over and over again.

They both cried and held on to each other, neither of them wanting to be the first to let go.

J
ax was busy at work all week dealing with the aftereffects of the burglaries, the shooting at Rejuvenate, and the disaster at the funeral home. Every morning, he left the house with Grace at seven in the morning and didn’t get back until after nine.

Apparently Missy Lee had been stealing from the dead for years. She would take a necklace, or a gold watch, or a ring here and there. She’d pawn the items whenever she’d go on one of her big trips, but not too much to draw attention to herself. While she waited to pawn them, she’d stashed them at the funeral home, hiding them in the lining of the display caskets and inside the urns. She’d stolen all of the stuff that Gene Fritch had wanted to be buried with.

Missy had let Chad in on her secret. When Chad and Hoyt were identified at Rejuvenate, they knew they needed to get out of town, but they decided to liberate Missy’s contraband before they did so. They’d been hiding out in an abandoned gas station across the street from the funeral home waiting for their perfect opportunity, which Grace had provided.

Missy Lee didn’t take very well to being backstabbed. The second she’d found out what Chad and Hoyt had been up to, but after she’d already been presented with insurmountable proof of her own theft, she squealed like it had been nobody’s business. In the end, all three of them were going to pay for their crimes.

Jax might’ve been working long hours, but he stayed in constant contact with Grace, calling her and texting her. He knew she was okay for the most part, but he had a desperate need to see her, to touch her, to hold her. He’d come apart when he saw Chad holding that gun to her head. He’d broken right in half, and having her in his arms was the only way he felt whole.

Whenever Jax was in the same room as her, he had to be touching her. Whether it was his hand at the small of her back, his fingers in her hair, or his legs tangled with hers as he held her in bed. He knew he’d never get tired of touching her; never get tired of her warm, soft skin beneath his hands. He loved how she responded to his touch, how she reached for him and curled into his body. He loved the contented sigh that escaped her mouth even when she was asleep.

He just loved her and he was ready to prove it in every single way.

It was a little over a week after the funeral home incident, when Grace and Jax had a Sunday off together. They slept in that morning, Grace sprawled across Jax, using his chest as her pillow. When they got up, Jax asked if she’d like to go see the finished product of his house. Grace hadn’t been inside for over a month and she was excited to see it.

Jax was anxious as they drove up and it only intensified the closer they got. Grace knew he was nervous about the house. He’d never gotten approval from his parents, and showing her something that he’d put so much of himself into was probably more than a little nerve-racking for the guy.

But Grace had full faith in what he’d created. She had full faith in him. He’d worked on the house with his own hands, kind and gentle hands that she loved. There was no way those hands hadn’t created something amazing.

The outside was finished, too. Jax had painted the exterior a dark gray, with white trim and a bright red door.

“Wow.” Grace smiled at him. “It’s beautiful.”

“Well, you like the outside. Let’s hope you like the inside, too,” he said as he led her up the steps.

“I’m going to love it,” she said, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“All right.” He smiled at her nervously before he put the key in. The lock clicked and he pushed open the door.

The air-conditioning was running. Cool air wrapped around Grace as she stepped through the door. She couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her lips as she walked into the hallway. It was painted in the dove gray she had picked out. Hardwood floors stretched out toward the living room and into the brightly painted red room next to where Jax was standing.

“That’ll be the office,” Jax said, pointing to the room.

“I like the Boston Red Sox’s red.” She grinned.

“It’s just red,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing Boston about it.”

“Mmm hmm.” She grinned as she made her way down the hallway to explore more. “Oh, Jax,” she said as she came into the living room, “it’s beautiful.”

The ceilings were vaulted. Amber wooden planks came together from the front and back of the house. The dove gray walls made all of the white edging pop. Grace spun around slowly, taking it all in, and when her eyes landed on the kitchen, she stopped, stunned.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed, covering her mouth with her hands.

It was her dream kitchen, down to the very last detail. The same hardwood as the rest of the house covered the floors. The countertops were black granite. The cabinets a creamy off-white and a couple of the ones above the counter had paneled glass doors. The refrigerator was housed in the same wood as the cabinets and it blended in perfectly. There were two ovens stacked on top of each other built into the wall, and an eight-burner stove sat in the middle of the back counter.

The sink was on the right wall with a window above it. There were two islands in the middle of the room. One had a wooden rack hanging above it and it had already been filled with all her pots and pans from her apartment. The other island was set up as a bar, with a light gray granite countertop and bar stools lined up on one side.

It was perfect. Had he built it for her?

“Jax?” she whispered through her hands as she turned around to look at him.

He was standing right behind her, and his hands came up to grip her elbows and pull her hands away from her mouth.

“I’ve never really had a place to call home. Where I grew up with my parents, that wasn’t a home,” he said, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a place that I felt safe or loved. The first time I ever really felt safe was at your grandparents’ house. You came along a very short time after. I remember seeing you for the first time, and you were so small and innocent, and all I could think was how beautiful you were.

“You brought something into my life, Grace, something I’d never known before. I didn’t know what it was at five, but you changed me. I was always drawn to your grandparents’ house growing up, but it wasn’t because I found my home there, it was because I found my home in you.”

Tears were falling freely down Grace’s cheeks, and Jax reached up to run his fingers beneath her eyes.

“This kitchen was always part of the plan.
Your
kitchen was always part of the plan. And it’s because
you
were always part of the plan, it just took me a little while to figure it out. I built this house for you, every part of it. I wanted to give you what you gave me. Because, Grace, you’re my home. The place I feel safe and loved and wanted. The place where all the brokenness from the past goes away and it’s just you and me.

“I denied my feelings for you for so long, but when it comes right down to it, you’re undeniable. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small velvet box as he got down on one knee.

“Jax,” she whispered, trying to remember to breathe.

“Grace Elizabeth King, will you marry me?” he asked as he flipped open the box.

She didn’t even look at the ring, because she couldn’t take her eyes off his.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. She’d never been surer of anything in her life.

The smile on his face was like nothing she’d ever seen before. He grabbed her hand and slid the ring on. Then he was on his feet, pulling her into him and brining his mouth to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands went down to her thighs and he pulled her legs up around his waist. He walked her backward and sat her down on one of the islands in the middle of the kitchen.

He pulled back and buried his face in her neck. “I love you, Grace. I love you so much,” he said as he kissed her throat.

“I love you, too,” she said, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Her arms were still wrapped around his neck, giving her a perfect view of the ring. It was beautiful. The diamond was over a karat and it was set in a platinum band.

“You bought me a princess cut diamond?” she asked, unable to stop herself from laughing.

“Yup,” he pulled back, grinning at her. “I always told you that you were a princess. I thought it was pretty fitting.”

“It’s perfect. I can’t believe you.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you did all this,” she said, indicating the kitchen with her hand.

“I wanted to give you something, something like you gave me.”

“You already did, Jax.” Grace smiled, reaching up and touching his face. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted was you.”

B
ethelda Grimshaw was a snot-nosed wench. She was an evil, mean-spirited, vindictive, horrible human being.

Paige should’ve known. She should’ve known the instant she’d walked into that office and sat down. Bethelda Grimshaw had a malevolent stench radiating off her, kind of like road kill in ninety-degree weather. The interview, if it could even be called that, had been a complete waste of time.

“She didn’t even read my résumé,” Paige said, slamming her hand against the steering wheel as she pulled out of the parking lot of the Mirabelle Information Center.

No, Bethelda had barely even looked at said résumé before she set it down on the desk and leaned back in her chair, appraising Paige over her cat’s-eye glasses.

“So you’re the
infamous
Paige Morrison,” Bethelda had said, raising a perfectly plucked, bright red eyebrow. “You’ve caused
quite
a stir since you came to town.”

Quite a stir?

Okay, so there had been that incident down at the Piggly Wiggly, but that hadn’t been Paige’s fault. Betty Whitehurst might seem like a sweet, little old lady but in reality she was as blind as a bat and as vicious as a shrew. Betty drove her shopping cart like she was racing in the Indy 500, which was an accomplishment as she barely cleared the handle. She’d slammed her cart into Paige, who in turn fell into a display of cans. Paige had been calm for all of about five seconds before Betty started screeching at her about watching where she was going.

Paige wasn’t one to take things lying down covered in cans of creamed corn, so she’d calmly explained to Betty that she
had
been watching where she was going. “Calmly” being that Paige had started yelling and the store manager had to get involved to quiet everyone down.

Yeah, Paige didn’t deal very well with certain types of people. Certain types being evil, mean-spirited, vindictive, horrible human beings. And Bethelda Grimshaw was quickly climbing to the top of that list.

“As it turns out,” Bethelda had said, pursing her lips in a patronizing pout, “we already filled the position. I’m afraid there was a mistake in having you come down here today.”

“When?”

“Excuse me?” Bethelda had asked, her eyes sparkling with glee.

“When did you fill the position?” Paige had repeated, trying to stay calm.

“Last week.”

Really? So the phone call Paige got that morning to confirm the time of the interview had been a mistake?

This was the eleventh job interview she’d gone on in the last two months. And it had most definitely been the worst. It hadn’t even been an interview. She’d been set up; she just didn’t understand why. But she hadn’t been about to ask that question out loud. So instead of flying off the handle and losing the last bit of restraint she had, Paige had calmly gotten up from the chair and left without making a scene. The whole thing was a freaking joke, which fit perfectly for the current theme of Paige’s life.

Six months ago, Paige had been living in Philadelphia. She had a good job in the art department of an advertising agency. She’d shared a tiny two-bedroom apartment above a coffee shop with her best friend, Abby Fields. And she’d had Dylan, a man who she’d been very much in love with.

And then the rug got pulled out from under her and she’d fallen flat on her ass.

First off, Abby got a job at an up-and-coming PR firm. Which was good news, and Paige had been very excited for her, except the job was in Washington, DC, which Paige was not excited about. Then, before Paige could find a new roommate, she lost her job. The advertising agency was bought out and she was in the first round of cuts. Without a job, she couldn’t renew her lease, and was therefore homeless. So she’d moved in with Dylan. It was always supposed to be a temporary thing, just until Paige could find another job and get on her feet again.

But it never happened.

Paige had tried for two months and found nothing, and then the real bomb hit. She was either blind or just distracted by everything else that was going on, but either way, she never saw it coming.

Paige had been with Dylan for about a year and she really thought he was the one. Okay, he tended to be a bit of a snob when it came to certain things. For example, wine. Oh, was he ever a wine snob, rather obnoxious about it really. He would always swirl it around in his glass, take a sip, sniff, and then take another loud sip, smacking his lips together.

He was also a snob about books. Paige enjoyed reading the classics, but she also liked romance, mystery, and fantasy. Whenever she curled up with one of her books, Dylan tended to give her a rather patronizing look and shake his head.

“Reading fluff again I see,” he would say.

Yeah, she didn’t miss
that
at all. Or the way he would roll his eyes when she and Abby quoted movies and TV shows to each other. Or how he’d never liked her music and flat-out refused to dance with her. Which had always been frustrating because Paige loved to dance. But despite all of that, she’d loved him. Loved the way he would run his fingers through his hair when he was distracted, loved his big goofy grin, and loved the way his glasses would slide down his nose.

But the thing was, he hadn’t loved her.

One night, he came home to his apartment and sat Paige down on the couch. Looking back on it, she’d been an idiot, because there was a small part of her that thought he was actually about to propose.

“Paige,” he’d said, sitting down on the coffee table and grabbing her hands. “I know that this was supposed to be a temporary thing, but weeks have turned into months. Living with you has brought a lot of things to light.”

It was wrong, everything about that moment was
all
wrong
. She could tell by the look in his eyes, by the tone of his voice, by the way he said
Paige
and
light
. In that moment she’d known exactly where he was going, and it wasn’t anywhere with her. He wasn’t proposing. He was breaking up with her.

She’d pulled her hands out of his and shrank back into the couch.

“This,” he’d said, gesturing between the two of them, “was never going to go further than where we are right now.”

And that was the part where her ears had started ringing.

“At one point I thought I might love you, but I’ve realized I’m not
in
love with you,” he’d said, shaking his head. “I feel like you’ve thought this was going to go further, but the truth is I’m never going to marry you. Paige, you’re not the one. I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of putting in the effort for a relationship that isn’t going anywhere else. It’s not worth it to me.”

“You mean I’m not worth it,” she’d said, shocked.

“Paige, you deserve to be with someone who wants to make the effort, and I deserve to be with someone who I’m willing to make the effort for. It’s better that we end this now, instead of delaying the inevitable.”

He’d made it sound like he was doing her a favor, like he had her best interests at heart.

But all she’d heard was
You’re not worth it
and
I’m not in love with you.
And those were the words that kept repeating in her head, over and over again.

Dylan had told her he was going to go stay with one of his friends for the week. She told him she’d be out before the end of the next day. She spent the entire night packing up her stuff. Well, packing and crying and drinking two entire bottles of the prick’s wine.

Paige didn’t have a lot of stuff. Most of the furniture from her and Abby’s apartment had been Abby’s. Everything Paige owned had fit into the back of her Jeep and the U-Haul trailer she’d rented the first thing the following morning. She loaded up and was out of there before four o’clock in the afternoon.

She’d stayed the night in a hotel room just outside of Philadelphia, where she promptly passed out. She’d been exhausted after her marathon packing, which was good because it was harder for a person to feel beyond pathetic in her sleep. No, that was what the following eighteen-hour drive had been reserved for.

Jobless, homeless, and brokenhearted, Paige had nowhere else to go but home to her parents. The problem was, there was no
home
anymore. The house in Philadelphia that Paige had grown up in was no longer her parents’. They’d sold it and retired to a little town in the South.

Mirabelle, Florida: population five thousand.

There was roughly the same amount of people in the six hundred square miles of Mirabelle as there was in half a square mile of Philadelphia. Well, unless the mosquitoes were counted as residents.

People who thought that Florida was all sunshine and sand were sorely mistaken. It did have its fair share of beautiful beaches. The entire southeast side of Mirabelle was the Gulf of Mexico. But about half of the town was made up of water. And all of that water, combined with the humidity that plagued the area, created the perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes. Otherwise known as tiny, bloodsucking villains that loved to bite the crap out of Paige’s legs.

Paige had visited her parents a couple of times over the last two years, but she’d never been in love with Mirabelle like her parents were. And she still wasn’t. She’d spent a month moping around her parents’ house. Again, she was pathetic enough to believe that maybe, just maybe, Dylan would call her and tell her that he’d been wrong. That he missed her. That he loved her.

He never called, and Paige realized he was never going to. That was when Paige resigned herself to the fact that she had to move on with her life. So she’d started looking for a job.

Which had proved to be highly unsuccessful.

Paige had been living in Mirabelle for three months now. Three long miserable months where nothing had gone right. Not one single thing.

And as that delightful thought crossed her mind, she noticed that her engine was smoking. Great white plumes of steam escaped from the hood of her Jeep Cherokee.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said as she pulled off to the side of the road and turned the engine off. “Fan-freaking-tastic.”

Paige grabbed her purse and started digging around in the infinite abyss, searching for her cell phone. She sifted through old receipts, a paperback book, her wallet, lip gloss, a nail file, gum…
ah
, cell phone. She pressed speed dial for her father. She held the phone against her ear while she leaned over and searched for her shoes that she’d thrown on the floor of the passenger side. As her hand closed over one of her black wedges, the phone beeped in her ear and disconnected. She sat up and held her phone out, staring at the display screen in disbelief.

No service.

“This has to be some sick, twisted joke,” she said, banging her head down on the steering wheel. No service on her cell phone shouldn’t have been that surprising; there were plenty of dead zones around Mirabelle. Apparently there was a lack of cell phone towers in this little piece of purgatory.

Paige resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have to walk to find civilization, or at least a bar of service on her cell phone. She went in search of her other wedge, locating it under the passenger seat.

The air conditioner had been off for less than two minutes, and it was already starting to warm up inside the Jeep. It was going to be a long, hot walk. Paige grabbed a hair tie from the gearshift, put her long brown hair up into a messy bun, and opened the door to the sweltering heat.

I
hate
this godforsaken place.

Paige missed Philadelphia. She missed her friends, her apartment with its rafters and squeaky floors. She missed having a job, missed having a paycheck, missed buying shoes. And even though she hated the fact, she still missed Dylan. Missed his dark shaggy hair, and the way he would nibble on her lower lip when they kissed. She even missed his humming when he cooked.

She shook her head and snapped back to the present. She might as well focus on the task at hand and stop thinking about what was no longer her life.

Paige walked for twenty minutes down the road to nowhere, not a single car passing her. By the time Paige got to Skeeter’s Bait, Tackle, Guns, and Gas, she was sweating like nobody’s business, her dress was sticking to her everywhere, and her feet were killing her. She had a nice blister on the back of her left heel.

She pushed the door open and was greeted with the smell of fish mixed with bleach, making her stomach turn. At least the air conditioner was cranked to full blast. There was a huge stuffed turkey sitting on the counter. The fleshy red thing on its neck looked like the stuff nightmares were made of, and the wall behind the register was covered in mounted fish. She really didn’t get the whole “dead animal as a trophy” motif that the South had going on.

A display shelf on the counter held tiny little bottles that looked like energy drinks.

NEW AND IMPROVED SCENT. GREAT FOR ATTRACTING THE PERFECT GAME
.

She picked up one of the tiny bottles and looked at it. It was doe urine.

She took a closer look at the display. They apparently also had the buck urine variety. She looked at the bottle in her hand, trying to grasp why people would cover themselves in this stuff. Was hunting really worth smelling like an animal’s pee?

“Can I help you?”

The voice startled Paige and she looked up into the face of a very large balding man, his apron covered in God only knew what. She dropped the tiny bottle she had in her hand. It fell to the ground. The cap smashed on the tile floor and liquid poured out everywhere.

It took a total of three seconds for the smell to punch her in the nose. It had to be the most fowl scent she’d ever inhaled.

Oh crap. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

She was just stellar at first impressions these days.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, trying not to gag. She took a step back from the offending puddle and looked up at the man.

His arms were folded across his chest and he frowned at her, saying nothing.

“Do you, uh, have something I can clean this up with?” she asked nervously.