Eight

J axson stood in the living room of a three-bed, two-bath flip he and Blake had purchased at a recent auction. It was his first participation as a partner and Jaxson had to admit having that title rather than independent contractor felt good. The single-family home had good bones, just needed updating and a good dose of TLC. They would start by highlighting the footage with an open-concept layout. Fortunately, tearing up something was perfect for Jaxson’s mood. He aimed a sledgehammer at the X on the wall and swung with abandon. The drywall exploded, creating a two-foot hole in the partition that currently separated the living room from the kitchen/dining area. He imagined the wall of this latest flip as the cause of his frustrations and swung again, harder this time. The drywall gave easily. He wished that his conflicting emotions regarding Genesis Hunter could get solved as quickly. That she was living rent-free in his mind didn’t sit well at all.

He couldn’t figure her out. That was the problem. She didn’t follow past scripts written by other women in his life. Usually, the women he dealt with came in two categories—the obvious gold digger or the ones that feigned disinterest. Jaxson had become a master at spotting both.

Genesis was different. She honestly disliked him. Though he felt the blame and anger were misguided, the feelings were real.

She was the most independent and stubborn woman he’d ever met. She seemed fine with the person she saw in the mirror, unafraid to be her natural self. She spoke her mind, even when doing so was sure to piss him off. In short, Genesis didn’t seem to want or need anything from him.

When it came to women and the pro athletes they went after, that was a trait he hadn’t often experienced. Being fed up with superficial women and the games they played was what had sent him running from Phoenix to the comfort of Holy Mound. That and the near scandal that could have cost him his reputation and possibly his freedom. The business partners he’d been involved with then had used his trust and naivete to their advantage. In the small place he once again called home, people said what they meant and meant what they said. Big cities could learn a thing or two from small towns.

His ex was another cause for frustration. On the way to Memphis, he’d called Abby to speak with his daughter. Instead of offering a civil greeting and handing over the phone, she had gone into a list of complaints that were none of his business. Of the four billion–plus women on the planet, why had he picked her to have his child?

Oh, that’s right. He hadn’t. But he’d engaged in sex without a condom or a gun to his head, so he shouldered half the blame. He wished their situation was less contentious. It killed him not to raise his daughter full-time, to know another man enjoyed the moments that were his by right. Their weekly video chats and holiday visits were not nearly enough. He did what he could—paid a hefty amount of child support, had Jazz on his insurance and set up a trust. But as Susan told him when discussing her children’s father’s inconsistent visits, children craved presence, not presents. Jaxson resented having to fight to stay connected to his child.

He raised the sledgehammer to another piece of drywall and swung for the proverbial fences. Ah, yeah. Hitting that wall felt like making a great tackle.

Back in the day, most of the frustration and angst from Jaxson’s problems got left on the field. Until partnering up with Blake and learning construction on the fly, he hadn’t realized how much he missed hard work. He spent time in the gym, but that didn’t compare to breaking something down with your bare hands and building it back up again. He tossed aside the sledgehammer to pull the rest of the material from the wooden beams. He could already see the difference tearing down the wall made. Natural light flowed from the living room to the kitchen, making the space look much larger than it had moments ago. He pulled out his phone to take pics to send to Blake and realized he’d missed a text from Genesis.

What time are shooting lessons?

He smiled, wondering whether it was Granville’s sternness or a fear of coyotes, or maybe Randy, that had moved her to call. He also realized he was probably happier than he should be at the chance to shoot a gun.

In Memphis, working. Back around six. Will that work?

He waited awhile, but when the answer wasn’t immediate, he figured she was away from her phone. When his rang just a few seconds later, the screen flashed Unknown Caller.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Gen.”

“Who?”

“Genesis Hunter.”

“Naw, I heard that. You said Gen. I called you Genny and you were quick to correct me. Have I moved into the friend zone?”

“We’re not friends. We’re neighbors.”

“Can I call you Gen?”

“Absolutely not. You’re still in Genesis territory.”

Said so seriously and quickly, her retort made Jaxson laugh out loud. “Using the nickname is a privilege, not a right.”

“Exactly.”

“Duly noted. What’s up, Genesis Hunter?” With great emphasis placed on her proper name.

“Where are Uncle Cyrus’s guns?”

“In the trunk.”

“The one that doubles as a coffee table?”

“And a gun case.”

“Good Lord.”

“You might want to wait until I’m there before you start messing with them. Cyrus kept his guns loaded, and probably locked. But I wouldn’t want you to chance finding a safety off.”

“I think I know enough to be careful.”

“Okay. Just looking out for your well-being. You’ve already got a twisted right ankle. If you shoot off your left toe, don’t come crying to me.”

With an informal date with Genesis later that evening, and a chance to finish the conversation that had started in his bedroom, the rest of Jaxson’s day flew by. Blake arrived with a crew midafternoon, increasing the manpower and providing Jaxson the camaraderie he missed most when he wasn’t working with a team. Blake’s running commentary about the upcoming baseball season was also a nice distraction from thoughts of Genesis, Abby and working out an amiable arrangement to spend more time with Jazz. He left the house and, on a whim, headed to a well-known BBQ spot to pick up dinner for him and Genesis. She’d have a hard time saying no to food from the local favorite that had placed first in several cooking contests and gained national attention on a Food Network show.

Traffic was light. He made it back to Holy Mound in record time. Nipsey was the first to greet him. He picked up a stick and tossed it before continuing up the steps.

He knocked on the door and, just to be ornery, hollered, “Gen!”

The front door was open. He tried the screen. Locked.

“I should leave you out there!” she yelled. “What did you call me?”

“I’ve got Papa Joes!”

He heard shuffling noises, followed by the muffled sound of rubber on wood. Genesis appeared in the hallway and quickly made her way to the door.

She unlatched the screen and headed back in. “Papa Joes is about the only thing that would get you in here,” she said, over her shoulder.

“Good thing I had the code.”

He followed her into the living room and was hit with a strange sensation—like coming home after a hard day’s work and having your woman greet you. The way he imagined Granville felt with Hazel. Or his grandpa Dixon with his grandmother Essie when he was still alive. In an instant, he imagined Jazz on the worn rug with Mario, and maybe Jazz playing dominoes or checkers or putting a puzzle together. Jaxson shook off the feeling, blamed it on an empty stomach. The long day working had obviously affected his senses. He needed to eat.

He walked over to the sofa and held out the bags. “BOB or PAPA?”

“BOB! That burnt-ends-on-brioche is my favorite.”

“Got any soda?”

“In the fridge.”

He headed toward the kitchen as though he lived there. A feeling of familiarity followed him down the hallway. Almost like déjà vu.

“You want one?”

“No, thank you. The doctor’s office called, reminded me to drink a lot of water while on pain medication. Wish I had bottled, though.”

“Did you check the back porch?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Jaxson opened the back door and pulled a bottle of water from the case Cyrus kept there, then returned to the living room and handed it to Genesis.

“So that’s where he keeps his stash.”

“Yep, there’s nearly a full case out there.”

“Thank you.” She unscrewed the cap and took a long, satisfying drink.

“Is there still a lot of pain?”

“Not when I take the meds. But they make me sleepy, so I’m only taking a half dose at a time.”

“It’s good to be careful.”

He sat down and watched Genesis gleefully taking a bite of her sandwich and following it up with a thick, hand-cut fry. After that she licked her fingers like a pro, sent Jaxson’s mind straight to the night when another kind of licking had been their main focus.

He settled into the recliner, opened his bag and pulled out the PAPA, pulled pork topped with a slaw containing the fresh apple, pickle and avocado slices that helped create the name. He dug into his own order of fries and set the bag on the side table.

“I bought wings, too,” he offered. “Wasn’t sure which you’d want. Now you have lunch for tomorrow as well.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“Damn, woman. I think I can afford to buy you a sandwich. I’m not in the pros anymore, but my hustles pay pretty good.”

“What hustles are those?”

“I lease part of my land to a small cattle rancher. In exchange, I get cash and a cow for slaughter that I split with the mayors. Another piece of land is used to grow Christmas trees.”

“Hmm, that’s different. Is there good money in that?”

“There is from October to December. Last year one of the neighbors tried to sell pumpkins but that business didn’t do as well. Too many larger retailers priced her out of the competition.

“After retiring, your uncle tried growing soybeans. Too much trouble for too little reward. He made himself content to live off retirement and Social Security, and the money he made doing odd jobs here and there.”

“Is that why this place is in such disrepair?”

“That’s part of it. I didn’t get into his personal business, but it appeared funds were tight. I think after his sons made it clear they weren’t coming back, he lost interest in making big changes. What he had was enough for him to get by and be content. The world doesn’t appreciate old folk like Cyrus, who probably forgot more about truly good living than younger generations will ever learn.”

“I don’t remember Uncle Cyrus ever trying to grow anything. He worked at the assembly plant for as long as I knew him.”

“Up until the lockdown,” Jaxson said, reaching for his soda. “Then they cut the workforce and forced him into early retirement. He didn’t like that experience. Said he never again wanted to be in the position where another man dictated his paycheck. That’s when he started growing soybeans and tried to get his sons interested in the land. He wanted to create a family business. But you probably already know about that.”

“I know he missed his sons and grandkids and wanted them to visit more often. And I knew he’d stopped working. I’d assumed by choice.”

“Why didn’t I ever see you? I was over all the time.”

“Until a few years ago, I lived in Charlotte. Moved back right before the pandemic happened and the world changed. The last time I saw him was six months ago. Meant to come back but got caught up helping a friend with a project and then...Uncle Cyrus was gone.”

“He appreciated you checking in on him.”

“He told you that?”

“I didn’t know it was you. He mentioned a niece in Memphis who kept in touch and always thought about him during the holidays. But he never said Genesis or Genny. I think he called you...”

“Peaches?”

“Yeah.”

Genesis smiled. “I’ve always loved peaches. One of the neighbors used to can them.”

“Miss Alma.”

“You knew her?”

He nodded. “They were a cabinet staple. Barely through the front door, and I’d start begging.”

“He never mentioned you to me.”

“There was probably never a reason. Cyrus was a baseball man. We didn’t talk much about my career. That he treated me like a regular Joe—”

“Or regular Jax.”

“Touché. That was one of the things I loved most about him, Granville, Hazel, all the folk around here.”

Jaxson finished his sandwich and sat back in the chair. “Can I ask you a question?”

“It’s a free country.”

“It’s really none of my business, and I know you’re Cyrus’s niece, but...are you also the executor of Cyrus’s estate? I ask because that day at the restaurant you seemed to be in control.”

“You’re right. It’s none of your business.” A quick smile softened the words. “Let’s just say I’m helping out with his affairs, making sure that his wishes are followed.”

“Like not selling the farm.”

“Correct.”

“Just so you know, buying the farm wasn’t my idea. Clarence asked if I was interested. Knowing what pride Cyrus took in owning that property, I was surprised the question came up.”

“That’s no doubt why Uncle Cyrus...made sure his business was in order. He knew that no amount of money would make me go against what he wanted.”

“I see.”

Genesis didn’t know it, wasn’t even trying, but she’d just scored major points in the attraction game. Once betrayed, loyalty became an invaluable asset. Her pros were pulling ahead of the cons. For Jaxson—duly noted.

“How are you Cyrus’s niece? It’s not through Clarence or Cleo. Is there another sibling?”

“I’m his great-niece, technically. My father is, was, his nephew.”

“Oh, right.” Jaxson remembered that Granville had shared this. “Does your dad still live around here?”

“No.” The way Genesis answered put a special type of period at the end of that complete two-letter sentence. Jaxson got the memo.

“Who named you Genesis?”

“My grandmother.” She finished her sandwich and reached for her drink. “Who named you Jaxson, and was it always spelled that way?”

“Believe it or not, my grandfather. He spelled it with an x with a nod to his name, Dixon.”

“Did you grow up here in the country, or in town?”

“I grew up where you were last night. Moved in with my grandparents when I was fourteen.”

“And before then?”

“Here and there,” Jaxson replied. “My mom was military before she remarried. We moved around a lot.”

“Did you get along with your stepdad?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. That’s how I ended up here.”

“I heard your grandfather died. Is your grandmother still with us?” she asked.

“She was in love with Papa and couldn’t live without him. Less than a year passed before she joined him.”

Genesis nodded, took a drink of water. “Did you like moving here as a teenager?”

“I wasn’t happy at all. But then I enrolled at Holy Mound High and became a Hornet. Being a part of that team gave me focus, something to believe in. I was popular and well-liked for all the right reasons. Probably saved my life.”

It had been a long time since Jaxson had thought back to his troubled childhood, even longer since he’d felt comfortable enough to share it with someone, even in the guarded way he’d done so with Genesis. Keep that up and she might discover his sensitive spot.

“When’d you stop playing for the Cardinals?”

A slow smile spread across Jaxson’s face. “You followed my career?”

Genesis gave him a look. “Slow your roll, Jaxson. I don’t watch much football. You couldn’t live in Tennessee and not hear talk about your career.”

Jaxson frowned. Shook off the discomfort her comment caused. He’d paid big money to keep his name out of the papers. So far it looked like the tainted business venture that happened in Phoenix hadn’t followed him home.

“I hear ya.” He stood. “Ready for shooting practice?”

“Is your big head the target?”

As a former pro athlete who was often worshipped, he loved her dismissive sense of humor.

Without hesitation, he replied, “Maybe tomorrow. Today I’ll settle for the side of a barn.”

Genesis slowly lifted her ankle off the pillows. He watched her wince with the effort.

“I’ll bring one of those dining room chairs outside if you want. Learning to shoot from a sitting position will make you an ace once you stand up.”

He wasn’t surprised when she refused his offer to be helped down the steps. For him that was a good move. It gave him a chance to fully appreciate how sexy a man’s flannel shirt could be on the right female body. Some of the memories from that night had faded with time. He wouldn’t mind getting an updated picture. He set down a chair in the driveway, then went back inside for another one to elevate her foot.

He returned with the chair.

“When it comes to guns, it’s safety first.” He offered his hand. “Let me show you a few things.”

He went over how to properly handle and hold the gun, how to release and lock the safety, the correct way to aim and a few other details. Then he nailed an old farmers market poster to a nearby fence and stepped away.

“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got. Aim for the biggest target, right in the middle.”

She closed one eye, focused the other on the watermelon and missed the whole poster.

“Let’s try again. Aim for a little higher than your actual target.”

A few more attempts. A few more misses.

“Here, let me show you.”

Jaxson knelt next to Genesis’s chair and walked her through the steps. Eyeing the target. Holding and aiming the weapon. “Then take a breath,” he instructed, “and shoot.”

The poster contained all kinds of fruits and vegetables. He hit a pea in a pod.

“Show-off.” Genesis shifted her weight in the chair and reached for the gun. “Give me that.”

“Here, let me help you line it up.”

Jaxson moved behind the chair where Genesis sat and reached around her to grasp the gun. He knew immediately that he was in trouble. From this position, he could feel the softness of her flyaway curls against his face. Could smell the subtle scent of a citrusy floral combination, something both harmonic and contradictory, like Genesis. He aligned his arms with hers and covered her hands. The movement pressed his forearm against the side of her breast. Inappropriate thoughts assailed him. The weighty breast being cupped in his hand, or the nipple gently sucked into his mouth. The pressure of her soft tit against his hard forearm created an undeniable sensation. She felt it, too, and stiffened.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Relax. Take a breath and concentrate on the middle of the poster.”

For once, she didn’t argue. Instead he felt her shoulders rise and fall against him. She had no idea how dangerous that simple move was, how the gentle pressure affected his groin. How his dick began to think with a mind of its own. As her fingers tightened on the trigger of the gun, he took a deep intake of air, leaned back and broke contact.

“Ready?”

She nodded.

“Aim... That’s it. Steady. Now...fire.”

The gun went off. Genesis jumped. The plank of wood he’d nailed the poster to splintered into a thousand pieces. The poster, still secured by a nail, swung from side to side.

Genesis did a little jig in the chair, then, Jaxson supposed, remembered they weren’t quite friends like that. “I hit it.” The statement was subdued but her eyes gleamed.

“You damn sure did,” Jaxson responded, even though the poster and not the fence holding it was the target. But her excitement was sexy. He couldn’t take her joy away.

“I destroyed the fence.”

“That plank of wood for sure. No worries. There are more in the barn. I’ll replace it.”

Jaxson felt his phone vibrate. He checked the screen. Abby. Hopefully whatever she wanted could be handled in a civil conversation. Since it was a toss-up, he decided to take it in private.

“I think that’s enough for your first practice,” he said, after renailing the target, having Genesis practice for another ten minutes and actually hit the poster. Once done, he picked up the pieces of wood scattered on the ground. “Let me help you inside.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be okay.”

“You can get yourself and the chairs up the steps?”

“Oh. Right. Guess I could use a little help.”

Once inside, Jaxson lingered. Even with her wishy-washy attitude, there was something about Genesis that made him want to stick around.

“Have they set a date for your uncle’s funeral?”

“This Saturday.”

“If you need anything—”

“I’ll let you know. Thanks for dinner, and the lesson.”

“We’ll set up another one next week and add a shotgun to the lineup. Around here, that’s the weapon used the most.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that. With my aim I might blow out a window.”

“Practice makes perfect. You’ll get there.” He headed for the door. “Oh, one more thing. If you’re going to be staying out here for any length of time, you might think about getting a set of security lights. And a camera.”

“You really think that’s necessary?”

He did. Despite Genesis’s independent streak, or maybe because of it, Jax felt the need to protect her.

“With Nipsey, I don’t imagine any strangers sneaking up on you. But I think it will help you feel safer.”

“For sure. It’s a good idea. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jaxson hopped into his truck and headed for home. His phone rested on the seat but he didn’t call Abby right away. His thoughts were on another woman. One selfless enough to brighten up an old man’s life, as she’d obviously done with Cyrus. One fearless enough to begrudgingly trust a stranger, though getting there was like pulling teeth. A woman who was fiery, smart, independent, loyal, who turned a man’s flannel shirt into a minidress and smelled like jasmine and oranges. She’d joked about her potential of being dangerous with a shotgun, having no idea that when it came to him, Genesis Hunter was a weapon all by herself.