Small Town Secrets Ch. 03

Jack found the instant coffee right where he remembered. Had she changed anything since her grandmother's death? To be fair, he slept most nights on the old couch in his office, because that small trailer was still filled to overflowing with his grandfather's stuff. He should probably call someone just to move the whole damned thing away. It seemed both of them were stuck in the past, caught in small town webs of secrets that went back before their births.

He shook his head as he stirred the coffee crystals into two fine china cups. He put milk and sugar into matching containers and placed them on a tray. He needed his black and strong. She had slept like an angel but as he suspected he had not managed to sleep at all. Not that that was a problem for him. He had been trained to go without sleep for long periods of time, forty-eight even seventy-two hours. So that could not account for the poor decision making skills he was exhibiting at the moment.

"Fuck," he cursed as he lifted the tray and prepared for battle. As with all the others he had fought, he was determined to win. He would begin with being the nice guy: coffee in bed. Damn, he sat the tray back down on the table and walked through the living room, opened the door and winced at the bright light as the sun climbed higher over the craggy hills for which this part of the country was named. He quickly found what he sought and used the pocket knife his grandfather had given him to cut off a white rose. But not before its thorns buried deep beneath his skin. That seemed prophetically justice somehow given his plan.

He sucked blood from his thumb as he placed the flower alongside the cup of steaming liquid. He was as prepared for battle as he was going to get. Time to face the music as the Old Man would have said. He carried the tray up through that living room and up the stairs.

She was still sleeping when he came in. That tiny little hand tucked under her rosy cheek. He tried to remember a single time when he woke up with a woman only to discover she was more beautiful in the light of day than she had been the night before in the dingy bar. He could not.

But this one was. Even the faint black smudges beneath her eyes looked cute almost. There was no cracking of the heavy cake of foundation; no stains upon the pristine white pillows. He blushed as he remembered deep reddish brown stains upon the matching sheets. He cursed quietly under his breath as he sat the tray on the pale pink table next to the bed. He almost wondered where all the fucking Barbies were. This place certainly looked like they would fit.

He brushed a strand of the strawberry blonde locks back from her face. She stirred a bit and moaned in her sleep. She was definitely going to be sore. He stood up and walked out the room, down the hall and into the bathroom. He turned the taps on the ancient bear claw tub. He adjusted the water to make certain it would be nice and warm. He looked around a bit until he found a box of bath salts and poured some of those into the water, watching it froth up. All right, hot coffee, warm bubble bath; that should just about cover the Mister Nice Guy crap. And if he needed to be an asshole, well that came more natural.

He walked quietly back into her room, leaving the tub to fill slowly with water. She had turned onto her other side, facing the wall and kicked off the quilt. Damn, he cursed. The girl had amazingly long legs for such a tiny thing. He thought about how they would look wrapped about his waist. Would they fit? He'd lay odds they would and considering that was his job and in his blood anybody would be a fool to bet against him. Last night might have been fast and furious but tonight would not be. He would make sure he found out then.

The idea of tabula rasa was intriguing. Virgins had never appealed to him. Before last night anyway. But it made perfect sense. He had been dragging his feet all these months because the type of women that he had in his life up until now were not the type you married. Not if you had any good sense anyway. He had watched too many of his friends get burned down that pathway.

Thing was that any good, god-fearing woman would run the other direction from the likes of him. The bastard grandson of the state's first casino owner, who had run away from the past and hidden for a lifetime in faraway war zones that most people around here had never even heard of, let alone find on a map.

He sighed as he girded himself for this battle. Because somewhere in the long dark night, Jackson Greywolf had abandoned his plans for destroying this woman-child. He had decided that perhaps the best revenge he could have for the Old Man was to have the one thing he had wanted for a lifetime and never gotten...a Monroe woman by his side for life as his wife.

Now it was time for that battle to begin. He brushed her hair back and kissed the side of her face. She swatted at him like he was some pesky fly. If she only knew. It was time the roles were reversed...time a Monroe woman got caught in a Greywolf web. "Wake up, sunshine. I brought coffee," he whispered against her ear.

***

Abby was back in her dream. She would have sworn 'he' kissed her cheek. It surreal; like Sleeping Beauty. Until she turned over and every muscle in her pelvic region screamed out in excruciating pain. Well, not the sharp one that had awoken her from her dream into harsh reality last night. More of a dull but persistent ache. Like the one time she had been foolish enough to hire a personal trainer after another barrage of complaints from Stuart about her too-full curves. With some things, once was definitely enough. She blushed as she remembered what had come after that pain. Okay, so sometimes once was not enough.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. We have to get on the road soon before all of Sebida starts talking," if his words were not confusing enough, the bright light that flooded her bedroom was.

She raised her arm to shield her eyes as she sat up quickly. Bad move that she paid for with a sharp shooting pain right between her legs. "Fuck," she cursed. She could not remember using that word since she was twelve and Nana had her mouth washed out with soap. But Nana was gone...along with her virginity and her fiancée. Her life was a royal mess lying in pieces all around her. And a stranger was telling her to 'rise and shine?'

Well, not a stranger. More like a little girl's darkest fantasy. If seven year old girls could have crushes, and she knew they could, then Jackson Greywolf had been hers. She remembered well all the times that Nana had taken her to the Friday night high school football game. Small town Texas lived for its football and Jackson Greywolf had quarterback had brought the small town of Sebida back to life. She remembered watching him play, but even more she remembered after the game when he would take off his helmet and that long mane of jet black hair would fall about his face.

Later when she had found Nana's stash of 'female porn' it was always Jackson's face she saw in her mind, whether the hero was Native American, Viking or even aliens. Now it was Jackson Greywolf pushing back the curtains and letting that damned sun pound into her brain that hurt almost as much as between her legs. "Closed the damned curtains."

"Tut, tut. What would your Nana say if she heard you talking like that? Is that any way for a lady to greet her lover in the morning?" he chuckled. His hair was shorter. Much shorter. It barely hit the collar of his shirt. That the man had not even bothered to button. Damn him. As she stared at the muscled expanse of soft brown skin and six-pack abs that honestly should have been on the cover of one her even spicier erotic romances on her e-reader. He could make a fortune as a male model. Even the touch of grey that streaked his temples was sexy.

She blushed as his words registered through the fog of hang-over that addled her brain. Her lover. Jackson Greywolf was her lover. Her first. She wanted to curse again as she shook her head and pain sliced through it once more, "She would not say anything. She would wash my mouth out with soap."

He laughed, a deep rich as dark as Nana's molasses. "I'd prefer to spank your bottom." He looked at her as walked across the room. A predator. Prowling its cornered prey. A wolf about to pounce. Just like his name sake. He stood next to her bed. Lifted a cup of steaming liquid and held it out to her with a smile that reminded her of a wolf baring its fangs, "But it might take us some time to work up to the more advanced theatrics of sex. Drink some coffee. It will help your head. And I have run a warm bubble bath of what else ails you."

His smugness did not sit well with her. He might appear the considerate lover but she could feel something else, just below the surface. She took the cup from him and brought it to her lips. Its hot liquid scalded her mouth but she needed the caffeine. She sat it back on the tray next to her and added two big spoons of sugar. He watched her every move. It was disconcerting. She raised the cup to her lips once more and drained it. She held tight to the cup as if it were a safety net.

"Want another? Although a glass of orange juice and a couple Tylenol would do better. I could not find either but we can stop for them on the way out of town," he said as he lifted the tray and turned towards the door.

Her brain was barely functional but the coffee had woken her enough to register his words this time. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she said as she pulled the quilt up to cover her. She still had on her slip but even that seemed scant little given the situation.

He paused in the doorway, holding the tray that she had used to bring Nana her food for months. This man had invaded her home, her only sanctuary. He acted as if he belonged, as if he had some right to be here, to command her moves. It infuriated her. But his next words sent her spiraling into rage.

***

Jack met her glare with calm aplomb. So his sweet little kitten had claws. Rather than turning him off, it actually affirmed his decision. He would enjoy the game so much more if she fought him a bit. He liked the challenge as he chose his next words carefully. They were his smart bomb. He had known they were the secret weapon he would use all along. It was merely a case of selecting the proper time, the right target. The sooner she understood the stakes of this game, her opponent, the sooner the real fun could begin.

"Are you on the pill, Abby Jean?" he kept his voice completely neutral, knowing that his flat tone added power to the words themselves. He used the nickname that he knew only Miss Myrtle had ever used and then only when her 'good girl' dared to misbehave. He knew far more about her than she realized and he would use it all to his advantage in this game. Because he was playing to win, playing for keeps.

He kept his face a mask of dispassionate indifference as he watched the rosy color drain from hers. But the way that her delicate hand instantly covered her lower abdomen reaffirmed that he had made the right choice. This one had the maternal instinct that he had always craved in the mother of his children. If his own had lacked it that only made him more determined that it was the primary requirement for his own mate. It was what had kept him from fulfilling those ridiculous stipulations in his grandfather's will. Until now.

"I take it from that look that the answer is no then?" If he felt a hint of guilt for the way that he pushed his advantage, stormed the fortress when the enemy was at its weakest, well that was just the ways of war. "Do you think that even the Monroe name can shield our half-breed bastard from the gossips in this hell hole?"

He watched her blanch further at his harsh words. But he admired the way that she breathed deeply and turned upon him after regrouping. "This is the twenty-first century, Greywolf. A quarter of children in this country are born to single mothers. So if you think I'm going to slink away to the county home for unwed mothers to have my baby then give it to strangers, you can forget it."

He wanted to gloat at his luck as she squared those tiny shoulders and faced him down. "Oh, and don't play those cards with me. First of all, half-breed? Oh please! As for Monroe name? You know as well as I do that the Greywolf name carries just as much clout in this town as Monroe. Probably more since Old Joe earned every dime and every bit of this town respect by hard work his whole life. So if you don't mind, let yourself out while I get myself more coffee and soak in the bubble bath you so kindly ran for me."

He laughed then. It felt good. Perhaps better than anything had since he went fishing with the Old Man a couple of years ago while he was on leave. He could not even remember what his grandfather had said that sunny summer day, just how incredibly right it had felt to be with the man doing what they both loved. Like home. It was the same feeling he had as he stared down this diminutive red-headed fire ball. The rest of his life was looking decidedly more exciting than it had yesterday.

"If this was Austin or Houston, even Dallas, then you'd be right about all that, darling. But it ain't. This is Sebida. And the minds round here are smaller than the town. You know that. How many times did you hear someone whisper 'poor little girl' behind your back? And your Mama married the asshole." He watched a bit of the fire die and that guilt grew, but not enough to keep him from doing what he had to to win this battle. "I learned the word 'bastard' early and it ain't fun, princess."

She looked away, turning towards the wall, but that tiny hand never left her abdomen. Silence screamed through the small space. Even a man trained to withstand torture and interrogation found it hard to withstand it.

Finally she broke it with a quiet whisper, "We don't even know. I mean what are the chances? We are just borrowing trouble," she stammered nervously before continuing. "Not that a baby is trouble but you know what I mean." She turned back towards him then. Those wide baby blues almost pleaded with him as she spoke, "We should be reasonable here. Just wait and see if..." Those eyes dropped to the quilt as her tiny hands began to wring nervously.

He wanted to keep the hard line, but no training could harden the human heart that much. He walked back to where she sat on the verge of tears in that single bed. It had been a long night of alternating heaven and hell holding her close in the confined space. He had a feeling that was just the beginning of his purgatory.

"You know this place as well as I do, Abby. You know they are going to talk no matter what we do. Do you want them doing the math? Do you want a child, your child, our child, spending a lifetime of silence when he walks into the room?" Her eyes remained locked on her hands in her lap as she shook her head.

He went in for the kill. "You told me last night that you broke up with your fiancée. You know the town is probably already gossiping about that. What if you are pregnant? Can you imagine what they would say when they found out you were pregnant? When they discovered that the baby could not possibly be his? What then?"

Her voice was soft, broken. "I could go back to Austin. No one would care there."

He chuckled softly, "You could, but I'm betting that you discovered the truth behind those words. No one would care there. That's the damnedest thing about this place. It might be a quagmire of gossip but it is also home. A place where people still care about one another, help out a neighbor. A place where you know it is safe to let your child play in the front yard because the whole damned town is watching out for one another."

He placed his fingers under her chin that was trembling just a bit. He forced her to turn her head and look at him. "A place to raise kids. The place you want to raise your family." He could see the tears that she was using every bit of her stubbornness to hold back as he dove in for the kill. "The place I want to raise mine. That's why we both came back to this place."

She studied him for a long moment before she nodded. "So what's your plan, Greywolf?"

He sighed, "We head to Vegas. Elope to be specific. Then we plant a few tidbits for the gossips. How we found comfort in one another's arms after the deaths of our grandparents. I don't know as romantic as you make it. I figure a couple of visit to the hairdressers for you and one to the seed and feed for me and the whole damned town will be giddy with the tale of true love conquering all."

She shook her head, "So what if I'm not pregnant? We just have a big fight and feed their gossip mill the other way?"

He chuckled, "Sweetheart, if you aren't pregnant, you will be in a couple of months."

She gasped, "But I thought this was a plan to stop the gossips, save our reputations. Not," she stammered and blushed even deeper.

"Not a proposal? Not a real marriage?" He motioned towards the bed, "After last night, sweetheart, you think either of us ain't going back for seconds? Thirds? More? No, baby girl, I know you ain't got the experience to know this, but we have that elusive thing called chemistry."

Her cheeks were scarlet now and perhaps he should have stopped but something inside of him made him press the advantage. "Maybe it ain't the most romantic of beginnings, Abby Jean, but trust me that chemistry combined with our common desire for a family is a damned site more solid basis for a marriage than the stupid romantic garbage we serving up as fodder for this town's gossip mill. So do we have a deal?"

He held out his hand and waited for the answer that was way more important to him than it ought to be considering everything.