Chapter 16

Jolie spent the next half hour telling me all about her brother, Dalton, his wife, and the baby they had on the way. The whole time she spoke, her cheeks were tugged up in the brightest smile I'd seen her wear. Seeing the happiness on her face when she spoke about her family made my chest squeeze. She really was breathtakingly beautiful, and that smile only magnified her beauty.

The color in her cheeks rose to a pretty petal pink as she curled her lips between her teeth and bit down. "I'm sorry. I can't believe I've been talking about myself for so long. I'll stop now," she said with a hint of embarrassment.

"No don't. I like hearing you talk." The admission spilled past my lips without any input from my brain, causing her eyes to widen. "About your family, I mean," I added quickly, suddenly feeling heat spread beneath my collar. That iron grip I had on my control at all times tended to waver whenever I was in her presence, but instead of being agitated by it, I was... enthralled.

Everything about Jolie intrigued me. From the one-sided conversation I heard her having with her cat before I knocked earlier, to the flashes of shyness, to the brash, almost impudent threats she made when I hurt her friend's feelings. Everything about her grabbed my attention and refused to let go. This woman affected me in a way no person had before. "You're very passionate. It's nice to see."

It was more than nice. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything there was to know about her. That had certainly never happened before. I hadn't been lying earlier when I told her I liked her—as surprising as that revelation had been. And the more time I spent in her presence, the more there was to like.

She smiled sweetly, leaning forward to prop her elbow on the table and cradle her chin in her hand. "What about you? Are you close with your family?"

That question made my mouth dry and my throat tight. I took a sip of water, having moved away from the wine after my second glass since I had to drive, hoping it would ease the gritty sandpaper feeling in my throat.

Usually I didn't mind sharing the truth about my relationship with my family. It was what it was, as far as I was concerned, and I honestly never really cared what anyone thought about that. Until Jolie.

"I'm in Pembrooke in the hopes of repairing my relationship with my father," I admitted. It was the second time in as many days I opened up to this woman in a way I hadn't expected to.

Her expression softened, her free hand coming across the expanse of table between us to rest on top of mine. That simple touch bolstered me somehow, placing me on more solid footing.

"Things between us have been strained since I was young."

"How young?" she asked gently, not trying to push so much as help guide me to where she sensed I was going.

"Thirteen. I was actually born here, believe it or not. This is where I spent my childhood."

She tucked her tongue into her cheek, making it stick out as she momentarily cast her gaze away from me, that brief flitter of shyness returning. "I have a confession to make," she said, catching me off guard. "I don't want you to think I was gossiping behind your back or anything, but when my mom heard I was seeing someone, she called me, and I might have kind of asked about you. Just a little bit," she added quickly, holding her index finger and thumb a few centimeters apart. I'd lost count of how many times I'd nearly smiled so far this evening. If there was anyone who could make me do it, it was probably Jolie Prescott.

"Anyway, apparently my mom knew your mom and, well..."

My humor dried up quickly. "I can only imagine what your mother would have to say about mine."

Jolie's eyes flashed with panic. "She wasn't rude, I promise. It's just that?—"

"My mother makes the glacier that sank the Titanic come off warm and cuddly. Is that about right?"

The giggle she let out reminded me of soft bells or windchimes before she quickly slapped her hand over her mouth to silence it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh."

"No, it's fine," I assured her, once again fighting back a grin of my own. I didn't understand how it was possible she could make me want to smile when I was discussing Estelle Cavanaugh, but it went to show how full of surprises she really was. "It's the truth, anyway. My mother has never been very, well, motherly. Getting pregnant was an accident. When she divorced my father, she gave me a choice who I wanted to stay with. Even back then I understood the differences between her and my dad. I knew she preferred to be unincumbered while he thrived when he had people to take care of. His love language, as I you called it."

"So you chose to stay with your dad," she surmised in a quiet voice, those brilliant gray eyes of hers shining with something I wasn't quite ready to identify yet.

"He needed me more," I answered, forcing casualness into my voice while the truth of it made my stomach feel like it was being tied into a million knots.

Jolie's chest expanded on a deep breath, her gaze growing scrutinizing. "You know, you aren't nearly as cold and uncaring as you try to make people believe."

I cleared the gravel from my throat and took a huge gulp of water, wishing I hadn't reached my limit on alcohol before this part of the evening. "Yes, well, that's your opinion. Anyway, for the next year it was only the two of us. My mother moved away, and the only times I heard from her were the occasional phone calls every couple years on birthdays or Christmases. Hershel met my stepmother Millicent when I was eight. They were married by the time I was nine and got pregnant pretty soon after that. I was ten when Leighton was born."

"Was that hard for you? Having your dad meet someone and get married again?"

I shook my head, watching the clear liquid coat the sides of my glass as I twisted it in a circle. "No, not really. Millicent has always been very kind. She behaved as though she were an extension of our family as opposed to the two of them starting a whole new one and me being a castoff from a previous life. Though, my mother has a completely different take on it." I met her gaze, seeing the curiosity lingering there, but to her credit she remained quiet, letting me get the story out on my own.

"I never understood her issue with my father meeting Millicent. I still don't, honestly. She made it clear she didn't want to be married to him anymore and she hated this town, but she liked to tell me I wasn't really a part of their family unit, that no matter how hard any of us tried, I would never truly fit in because I'd always be a reminder to the both of them of a failed past."

Jolie shocked me out of my glum memories by snorting loudly, and when I blinked back into the present, her faced was scrunched up in what I could only describe as righteous indignation. "No offense, Vaughn, but your mom sounds like the literal worst."

A burst of stupefied laughter exploded from my throat, clearly shocking Jolie as much as it did me. The noise I let out felt as foreign as it sounded, like the muscles specifically used for laughter had atrophied from disuse.

As if sensing I was so caught off guard I wasn't sure how to continue, Jolie put me out of my misery and moved the conversation forward. "If you chose to live with your father how is it that you left Pembrooke when you were thirteen?"

"Again, that was Estelle. She decided my time spent with my father had made me soft. It was her opinion that I would be better off living with her. Hershel tried his hardest to convince her to let me stay, but she had more money and better lawyers. He had a family to take care of and couldn't afford to fight her."

"God, Vaughn. I'm so sorry." Her hand came down on mine once more, her delicate fingers squeezing gently, but that simple touch was enough to send an electric shock up my arm and through my chest. I wanted to turn my hand over, to thread our fingers together, which was bizarre for many reasons, starting with the fact that I barely knew this woman and ending on the realization that I'd never held hands with a woman in my life.

"It's okay, really. I should actually be thankful. I'm as successful as I am today because of her pushing me, so I can't really complain."

"Yes, you can," she demanded, her grip on my hand growing even tighter. "You absolutely can complain, because what happened to you wasn't fair. She didn't take what you wanted into consideration. She was bitter and selfish, and you're the one who paid the price for that. I'm really sorry to say this, but I really don't like your mother. Not one damn bit. And if I have any say in the matter, I'd rather not meet her while we're doing this whole... thing because I don't think I can be nice."

Fuck holding her hand. I was suddenly swamped with the desire to pull her into my lap and fuse my mouth with hers. It was a base need so strong I felt like a caveman, void of all logic and common sense. A need that didn't fit into my carefully crafted and controlled life. One word was pulsing in my head in time with my heartbeat: Want.

"You don't have to worry about that, it's a moot point. She's made it abundantly clear she has no desire to ever set foot in Pembrooke again."

It was an opinion, until very recently, I'd shared with her.

"And the whole town wept with gratitude," she muttered dryly.

Christ, she was cute. It was getting more and more difficult to keep the growing attraction I felt for her tamped down.

Just then, a blur of gray and white darted into the dining room so fast I didn't have time to brace against another attack. Before I knew it, the ball of demonic fur posing as a house pet leapt onto my lap. My entire body locked tight with dreaded expectation as the cat braced its back legs on my lap and walked its front paws up my chest.

I'd pressed my back into the chair so hard it was a wonder the wood didn't fuse with my spine. "What's it doing?" I gritted out of the corner of my mouth, not wanting to break eye contact and risk missing a sneak attack.

Jolie laughed. A full-on, stomach-aching kind of laugh that came from the deepest part of her belly. She held her middle as her head fell back, cackling at my expense as my balls drew up into my stomach in fear.

"Glad you find this amusing," I grumbled as the cat on my lap let out a purr so loud it could have rattled the glass in the house. Then, to my utter bewilderment, it began to rub its head across my jaw.

"She likes you," Jolie finally said after the longest minute of my life, in which I worried for the safety not only of my suit but the skin beneath. "She's snuggling. You should feel very lucky, because she doesn't do this with just anyone. She's a bit... choosey. Usually you have to work for her affection."

"Yes, well, as delighted as I am that she's decided to like me after our last encounter, I think we might be better off enjoying each other from afar."

Jolie rose from her chair with a playful roll of her eyes. She picked the cat up by her middle and removed her from my lap, snuggling the thing against her chest. "All right, you grump. I'll save you and your precious suit from a vicious attack of cat hair. Let me put her in my room."

Once she left, I looked down. My top lip curled up at layers of cat hair that were sticking to my shirt and slacks. I'd be lucky if the drycleaner in this town could get it all out. Lord knew it would be a pain in the ass to get out of my car.

A week ago that might have been enough to send me on a rant, but all I felt in that moment was minor agitation that my allergies were likely to be activated in a few minutes.

She returned a minute later, just as I was standing from my seat and dusting fruitlessly at my clothes, trying to get the cat hair off. "Here. I brought you a lint roller. Didn't think you'd appreciate tracking cat hair into your car," she said as though she'd read my earlier thoughts.

That tightness in my throat returned at her thoughtful gesture. "Um, thank you." I took the roller from her hand and started swiping it down my front as she reached up to pluck at strands of cat hair near my collar.

The room suddenly felt half the size it had been a minute ago. That sunshine scent of hers enveloped me like an embrace, tugging at my chest and causing my dick to swell uncomfortably beneath my slacks. As much fun as I was having, and as badly as I would have preferred to stay, I knew it was best we call it a night. I needed to get back on solid footing, and I couldn't if she was there, invading every one of my senses until nothing else mattered.

"It's getting late," I managed to choke out, the words harder to say than I had anticipated. Summoning up all the control I'd let slip through my fingers since arriving, I forced my body to move, bending to pick up my empty plate and stacking it on top of Jolie's so I could carry them into the kitchen. She grabbed our glasses, following after me.

"You don't have to do that," she insisted when I started rinsing. When I didn't stop, she placed her hand on my forearm to halt my progress. "Really, you don't have to." She smiled but I couldn't help but notice it didn't reach those glittering gray orbs I was quickly becoming obsessed with. "I'm kind of particular about my dishes. I'll take care of this. You said it yourself, it's getting late."

At her last sentence, a need for self-preservation that had been driving me less than a handful of minutes ago faded into oblivion, leaving behind a rancid, sticky coating of shame. Being an asshole had never bothered me in the past. It was something that had always come naturally, a defense mechanism from my childhood that was so engrained in me now it was practically woven into the fabric of my personality. However, for the first time since I was a kid, I wished that wasn't the case, because I felt like I'd hurt her somehow, and I hated that feeling.

Unfortunately, there was no way to take it back.

With a stunted shake of my head, I dried my hands on the towel she handed me, the air filling with awkward tension as we watched each other silently. My feet felt like they were stuck in some sludgy mess that made walking difficult as I headed for the front door, grabbing my jacket from where it was draped over her couch on the way.

"Thank you." I had to clear my throat to rid it of the thickness that made those two words come out far more gruffly than I'd intended. "For dinner. It was really good."

She flared her eyes dramatically before smiling a true smile, and I refused to think about the way that made my chest feel like a ton of bricks had been lifted right off it.

"Wow. I'm pretty sure that ‘really good' for you is the equivalent of a five-star review on Yelp."

I rolled my eyes at her teasing, the corner of my mouth trembling once more with the need to grin. "All right, smartass. I'll see you later. Try to stay out of trouble, would you?"

Her grin turned downright cheeky. "I make no such promise." Then she shocked the hell out of me by popping onto her tiptoes and pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek, close enough to my mouth that I felt the brush of her lips against the very edge of my own. My heart was beating like I'd run the hundred-meter dash by the time she lowered herself back down. "Drive safe. I guess we'll talk soon?"

Unable to form words, I nodded before turning on my heel and heading for my car. By the time I climbed inside and started it up, my dick was like granite, standing so hard I could feel my pulse in it.

There wasn't a doubt in my mind that I was well and truly fucked, because if a kiss on the goddamn cheek was enough to guarantee I was going to have to fuck my own fist as soon as I got home, faking something more with Jolie Prescott was going to destroy my sanity.