Sapphire FallsGoing for Wilder Page 9

  Jackson considered it for about five seconds. Ellie might be a spoiled Daddy’s girl, but she wasn’t ugly, and Lord knows he needed some action beyond his hand.

  “This is a time limited offer, Mr. Clean,” Ellie said.

  Ellie calling him Mr. Clean, reminding him that she thought being a plumber meant she was better than him, was all he needed to make the decision.

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Jackson said.

  “Suit yourself,” Ellie said and then peeled off.

  Dirt and gravel flew from her tires, hitting him in the face and chest. Though he knew it was intentional, Jackson couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d hit his daily quota of things he gave a shit about.

  Chapter Nine

  The smell of fresh brewed coffee floated through the air as Jillian came down the stairs. While she made for the kitchen to get a cup, Mufasa went out the dog door.

  “Good morning,” Shelby said.

  “Morning,” Jillian echoed. “Thanks for making coffee.”

  “No need to thank me. I did it as much for me as I did for you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Shelby frowned. “It means I’m not a functional human being until I get some coffee in me. Don’t be so touchy.”

  “Sorry,” Jillian said as she slid into one of the kitchen chairs.

  “It’s okay,” Shelby said. “I know you’re probably still a little raw from Jackson’s assholishness last night.”

  Jillian shook her head. Only Shelby would use a word like assholishness and make it sound so reasonable.

  “I’m sure Garrett would kick his ass if we asked,” Shelby offered.

  “If I wanted Jackson’s ass kicked, I’d do it myself.”

  “I’m good with that as long as you let me help you.”

  “I said if I wanted his ass kicked, which I don’t.”

  “Why the hell wouldn’t you kick his ass? The bastard said he was sorry for kissing you.”

  Jillian winced. “There’s no reason to kick his ass. Jackson made his feelings for me clear a long time ago, and I was stupid to forget that.”

  “You’re not stupid. Jackson’s the stupid one.”

  Jillian didn’t bother to argue, but last night reminded her that she wasn’t doing herself any favors being so willing to let bygones be bygones. It also reminded her of what happened the last time she’d tried to mend fences with Jackson.

  Jackson looked more than tired. Leaning against the side of the gym, his eyes closed against the sun, he looked exhausted and maybe even a little defeated.

  For once, he wasn’t surrounded by his usual posse.

  Even though she hadn’t talked to him since his mother’s funeral, Jillian couldn’t help approaching him. No matter what happened between them, Jackson was her friend, and she wasn’t going to turn her back on a friend.

  ‘Are you okay, Jack?’

  Jackson’s eyes flew open and the ice in his gaze made her flinch. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Are you sure because ’

  ‘I swear you have to be the stupidest girl I’ve ever met.’

  Jillian took a step back. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You heard me. You’re the stupidest girl I’ve ever met.’

  She suddenly forgot her concern for him.

  ‘I’m not stupid,’ Jillian snapped.

  ‘Sure you are. Only a stupid girl would worry about a guy that couldn’t care less what happened to her.’

  Jillian’s heart thudded against her ribs. ‘We’ve been friends too long for you to mean that.’

  ‘Our friendship is over, Jill.’ Jackson’s voice was as cold as the look in his eyes. ‘The sooner you figure that out, the better off we’ll both be.’

  Warm fingers grasped hers. Jillian looked up and met her sister’s concerned gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” Shelby said softly.

  “You don’t have to be sorry. I’ll be okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Does that mean you’re still going to come to the paintball fight?”

  Jillian didn’t even have to pretend to be offended. “If you think I’m going to let Jackson’s assholishness keep me from going to the paintball fight then you don’t know me very well.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Shelby laughed before her expression grew serious. “I know you said you don’t want to kick Jackson’s ass, but that doesn’t mean we can’t team up and shoot him in it right?”

  Jillian was poised to say they should leave Jackson alone, but that gleam in Shelby’s eyes was difficult to say no to. Not that she wanted to say no. Shooting Jackson in his perfect ass sounded like the best idea she’d heard in a long time. Too bad they would only be armed with paintball guns.

  “I heard you had a bit of a rough night last night.”

  Jackson groaned at his father’s less than stellar good morning. Was it too much to ask that he be allowed to get some food in him before his dad picked up where his grandpa left off?

  At least his grandpa wasn’t there to team up with his father. Gramps was probably at the diner with the rest of the old timers. Those old boys would sure be up the creek if the place ever closed down.

  Jackson pulled open the refrigerator in search of some breakfast. When he didn’t find anything that interested him enough to go to the trouble of cooking it, he settled for making a few pieces of toast slathered with butter. After pouring a glass of orange juice, he took a seat at the kitchen table.

  “So,” Vince began and then paused to take a sip of his coffee. “Why do you suppose Jillian kicked you?”

  “Maybe she’s crazy,” Jackson mumbled around a mouthful of toast.

  Vince chuckled. “Most women have a touch of crazy in them. Even your mama did, and she was the best woman I’d ever met.”

  Jackson stiffened. The last thing he wanted was to take a trip down memory lane with his father.

  “I would say maybe she likes you, but that’s a hell of a way to express it,” Vince said. “Besides, I never did go for that line of thinking.”

  “What line of thinking?”

  “That boys liked the girls they picked on and were only mean to them because they didn’t know how to express their feelings,” Vince explained. “No sir, if a boy likes a girl, he should express it by treating her right and she should expect it. God knows, I treated your mom like a queen and not just because she expected it but because I wanted to.”

  “Don’t,” Jackson snapped.

  Vince frowned. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t start talking about Mom. I don’t want to hear it.”

  There was a reason they didn’t talk about his mother. It had been a long time since his father had gotten his act together and stopped drinking, and he wanted to keep it that way.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong,” Vince said.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jackson lied. And we both know I’m not wrong.

  “Like you have no idea why Jillian kicked you?” Vince asked, and Jackson shrugged. “And I suppose you expect me to believe you don’t think you and Jillian belong together?”

  “Jillian and I do not belong together. We’ve never even been on a date for God’s sake.”

  “That’s something you can fix pretty easily.”

  “I don’t want to fix it.”

  “No?”

  “No, and I would appreciate it if everyone would get the idea out of their damn head.”

  Gathering his dishes, Jackson rose from the table. Once the dishes were rinsed, he loaded them into the dishwasher.

  “Were you planning to take your truck to Tucker Bennett’s farm tonight, or did you want to catch a ride with me and your grandpa?”

  After last night’s run in with Jillian, Jackson wasn’t sure it was a good idea to go to a paintball fight at the Bennett’s farm. If Jillian was still pissed, it wasn’t a good idea to be in her presence when she was armed, even if the weap
on in question was a paintball gun.

  Getting shot with a paintball gun could hurt like a son of a bitch. A high velocity gun, or even a lower velocity fired at close range, could leave bruises. Something Jackson knew firsthand, having taken a pretty good shot when he was fourteen.

  ‘Where do you think they are?’

  Jillian followed the question with a loud giggle. Though he wanted to shush her and tell her not to give away their position, that giggle was cute enough that Jackson was willing to let it slide.

  Jackson wondered if he should chance peeking around the corner to see if they were safe enough to move out.

  This year, he and Jill were zombie slayers which he liked better. It was easier to move without the costume, and he didn’t have to worry about sweating off the makeup.

  The sound of groaning behind them made Jackson’s heartbeat kick up a notch, but he grinned. The people playing the zombies were taking their parts seriously.

  ‘I think they’re catching up,’ Jillian whispered. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘We’ll wait here and ambush them.’

  ‘What if there’s too many of them for the two of us to take?’

  ‘You don’t have to worry, baby.’ Jackson flexed his nearly non-existent muscles. ‘I’ll protect you.’

  ‘Since when am I your baby, Jackson Wilder?” Jillian huffed, hands on her hips.

  Jackson grinned. ‘Since you were born. Now hush up, or they’ll hear us.’

  ‘Too late!’ Skeeter shouted. ‘Ya’ll surrender peacefully, or we’ll have to shoot you.’

  Both Jackson and Jillian spun around. Shifting to stand in front of Jillian, Jackson took in the odds. They were surrounded by five zombies with Skeeter taking up the center position.

  ‘We can take ’em,’ Jillian whispered in his ear.

  They probably could. Ever since they’d been taken out of the game early last year, he and Jill had planned for this.

  Besides switching sides and ditching the heavy zombie makeup, they’d spent every weekend for the last few months practicing for all kinds of life threatening scenarios. That included taking out the zombies if they ended up with their backs against the wall.

  With four guns between the two of them, they were only one short of the combined amount of weapons the others had.

  ‘Come on, hands up,’ Skeeter ordered.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Jackson said. ‘Now, Jill!’

  Lifting their weapons, Jack and Jill unloaded on the zombies before the poor slobs even knew what hit them.

  ‘Ah, man,’ Joey Kyle whined, throwing his weapon to the ground.

  ‘Ya’ll cheated!’ Skeeter screeched.

  ‘We did not,’ Jillian said, glaring at him.

  ‘We had you surrounded,’ Skeeter said. ‘You were supposed to surrender.’

  ‘It’s not our fault you didn’t take the shot first,’ Jillian said.

  Jackson smirked. ‘Guess we’re just better than you.’

  Sneering at them, Skeeter raised his weapon. Realizing the paint gun was pointed at Jillian, Jackson stepped in front of her. Jackson grunted as the shot hit him square in the chest, the dark red splotch of paint doing a convincing job of looking like a blood stain.

  It stung like a bitch, but Jackson refused to let Skeeter know that. He didn’t even flinch, let alone go down.

  ‘You asshole!’ Jillian stepped around Jackson, stomping toward Skeeter. ‘You cheated.’

  Skeeter shrugged. ‘If you’re gonna cheat, so am I,’ he said and then turned to his friends. ‘Let’s go, guys.’

  When they sauntered off, Jackson was tempted to fire at their backs. The look on Jillian’s face said she was thinking the same thing, but she took her cue from Jackson and quietly held her ground.

  ‘Thanks for saving me from getting shot,’ Jillian said when the others were far enough out of earshot.

  Jackson forced a grin. ‘Think nothing of it, baby.’

  From the way his chest was throbbing, he could already tell he was going to pay for the chivalry.

  “Was that a yes or a no?” Vince asked.

  Jackson frowned. “Huh?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I was just thinking I’ll skip the paintball thing tonight.”

  “Your grandpa’s going to be disappointed if you don’t show up.”

  Jackson shrugged. “Then don’t tell him.”

  Much as he hated missing out on the fun, it beat taking another shot to the groin, this one courtesy of a paintball pellet fired from Jillian’s gun.

  “I’d call that a success,” Garrett said and took a long pull of his jar of Booze.

  Jillian and Shelby looked down at their clothes and then at each other before they cracked up. Their clothes were riddled with paint splotches while Garrett had managed to get away unscathed.

  After getting so thoroughly trounced, she and Shelby had retreated to the sidelines with the other casualties to relax with a jar of Booze. Garrett was one of only a handful of people who’d finished the paintball fight without getting shot.

  “Of course you’d call it a success,” Shelby said. “You didn’t get shot.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been practicing,” Garrett said.

  “Practicing?” Jillian repeated.

  “Yep, courtesy of the Marine Corps,” Garrett answered.

  Shelby laughed. “I thought you meant you’d set up some kind of zombie themed obstacle training course.”

  “You’re laughing, but I know for a fact some folks around here do that,” Garrett informed her.

  Jillian knew that too. When she was fourteen, Jillian was one of those people that spent an entire summer and every weekend in the early fall training for the zombie paintball fight.

  ‘Are you serious?’

  Jillian looked at Jackson as though he’d just sprouted a second head, which of course didn’t give him an extra brain. If it did, there would have been no way he thought she wanted to spend their entire summer running through paintball drills on the makeshift obstacle course he’d set up.

  ‘Why not?’ Jackson demanded. ‘You don’t wanna get taken out in the first five minutes like we did last year, do you?’

  ‘Well, no, but ”

  ‘But nothing. You know we need to practice.’

  ‘And when am I supposed to practice the piano?’

  ‘You don’t need to practice. You’re the best piano player in the whole town.’

  The praise made Jillian’s insides flutter. A lot of people had told her they liked her playing, but none of them made her feel the way Jack did when he complimented her for the same thing.

  A thought occurred to her, and she narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you just saying that so I’ll go along with this training thing?’

  Jackson’s face hardened. ‘I’d never lie to you, especially not about something like that.’

  Guilt knotted her stomach. ‘Sorry, Jack. I know you’d never lie to me, and you’re right. We do need practice, lots of it.’

  His expression smoothed out and he grinned. ‘Does that mean you’re gonna train with me this summer?’

  Of course she was. Jillian would do anything for Jackson, even if that included giving up her summer to learn how to kick some zombie ass.

  “You definitely kicked some zombie ass,” Shelby said.

  Jillian frowned at her sister. “What did you say?”

  “I said Garrett kicked some zombie ass,” Shelby repeated.

  “That I did,” Garrett agreed. “I wonder how Jackson did.”

  “I didn’t see him here tonight,” Shelby said. “You don’t think he skipped the whole thing, do you?”

  “Who cares how he did or whether or not he even showed up?” Jillian demanded.

  “You do,” Shelby said.

  “I do not,” Jillian insisted.

  “Of course you do.” Shelby grinned at her. “How else are you supposed to shoot the man in his ass if you can’t find him?”

  Jillian finally cr
acked a smile, not wanting to admit the truth.

  She had looked for Jackson too. Though she told herself she was only looking so that she could make sure she got off a good shot, she knew better. When she hadn’t found him, she’d been disappointed. Then she’d been angry for even looking in the first place.

  Maybe one of these days she would learn to stop lying to herself where Jackson was concerned.

  Jackson frowned at the sound of the doorbell. Since his dad had come home an hour ago and gone straight for the shower, and his grandpa had headed over to spend some time with Ethel Harrison, he knew neither of them was expecting someone. And neither was he.

  His frown deepened when he opened the door to Garrett holding a six pack. “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought we could talk,” Garrett answered.

  Jackson grimaced. What was with everyone wanting to talk lately?

  While Jackson debated what he wanted to do, Garrett stood there looking perfectly at ease. Jackson contemplated telling the man to get the hell off his porch.

  They weren’t friends, didn’t even know each other; hardly an ideal situation for a chat. The only thing stopping him was the beer. Jackson could tolerate the conversation for a free beer.

  It wasn’t like he didn’t know what Garrett was there to say. Something along the lines of, ‘You had your chance with Jill, and you blew it so I’m stepping up. Thanks for that, buddy.’

  After he said his piece, Jackson would thank him for the beer and send him on his way with a good luck.

  “You want to sit?” Jackson gestured toward a pair of Adirondack chairs on the porch.

  Garrett didn’t look surprised by the invitation. “Thanks.”

  Once they were both settled, Garrett passed a beer to Jackson before taking one for himself. As he took his first pull, Jackson waited for what he knew would come next.

  “I didn’t see you at the Bennett’s place tonight,” Garrett said.

  Jackson shrugged. “Didn’t feel like going.”

  “Didn’t feel like worrying about dodging another nut shot from Jill you mean?” Garrett slid a grin in his direction.

  “That too, I guess,” Jackson said, but he didn’t return the smile.