Page 100 of Work with Me

Alicia wore black slacks and boots—city ones, not western ones like mine. Her raincoat hung open, showing a light-blue blouse with a few rain splotches on it. Her hair was swept back from her face in the bun she always wore at work. Her makeup did a poor job of covering the purple smudges under her eyes, and her lipstick had worn off, leaving her lips pale. I wanted to kiss the tremble out of them, to fold her in my arms, wet coat and all, and warm her up. Undress her slowly and put her in the shower. Tuck her into bed where she could sleep off the week. Hold her close until the shadows faded from her eyes.

But I’d hurt her. If I was the reason she was exhausted and miserable, I didn’t have the right to do any of that. Not yet. Maybe never.

I took a step toward her, my hands dangling, useless, at my sides. “Hi, Alicia.”

Her lips tightened. “Why are you here, Jackson?”

I tried to flash her a winning smile. Not too much. Friendly, but not too snake-oil-salesman. But my face was chilled, and I managed only a grimace. “To apologize. I left Austin without saying good-bye. I didn’t text you back or call to explain. For all that, I’m sorry.”

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you leave?” She leaned the umbrella against one of the porch posts and crossed her arms.

“Partly because—well, I can’t tell you about it or Cooper will have my nuts. But mostly because I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t good enough for you, and I didn’t want to ruin your business or—or your life.” I gestured behind me at the purple door. “But, you see, I’ve taken some steps to change. I’ve set up—”

She stopped me, mid-reach for the foundation charter in my pocket.

“I didn’t want you to change. I wanted you just the way you were, here in Austin. The man I—I fell for.”

My heart revved like a racecar at the starting line. “But I had to change. For me. I had to feel worthy myself before I could try to convince you I deserved another chance.” I poured all the hope, all the love I had into the gaze I locked onto her.Give me another chance.

Her lips thinned. “It’s too late.”

“Too late?” Marlee hadn’t told me a grovel could come too late. She said the heroine always forgave the hero.

“I can’t do this.” She looked away, an unshed tear sparkling green in the Christmas lights.

“You can’t do forever with me? Because that’s what I want.” Fuck, I should’ve bought her a ring. Even Marlee said it was too much, too fast. But I wanted to give her the happily ever after part, and didn’t that always come with a wedding?

“Forever?” She laughed, bitter, and when the tear rolled down her cheek, she swiped it away like she was angry at it, too. “We both know I was only one of your flings. You were in it for the chase, nothing more. Well, you caught me. And, like a fool, I fell for it. I fell for you. I thought I was in love. But now I know better. And I won’t make that mistake again.” She took a step toward the door.

My heart pounded. She loved me. Or she had, once. I touched her arm. “Alicia, I love you, too. Give me another chance. I’ll prove I’ve changed.”

She looked at me then, her blue eyes glistening. “I can’t. You’d better do what you do best and leave.” Then she yanked open the screen door, pushed through the purple door, and was gone.

The rain roared like the static in my brain.

She’d said no.

Actually…I replayed her words to me. She said she couldn’t. Similar, but not exactly the same. She’d told me she loved me. Past tense. And then she’d told me to leave.

Oh. I sank down again on the top step where the downpour soaked my knees and the toes of my boots.

She didn’t trust me not to leave again. Like her father. Like Noah’s dad. I’d made three of a kind with those dickwads.

The foundation didn’t mean anything to her. Neither did my coming to see her. The only thing that’d prove I was different was to stay.

So I’d fucking stay.

34

JACKSON

As it turns out,there’s a fine line between showing persistence to the woman you love and being a stalker. And not only would being a pest not win me any points with Alicia, winding up with a restraining order or in jail wouldn’t prove anything.

So I brought them breakfast. And then I left. Every day.

The first day, a Saturday a week before Christmas, Noah answered the door. The cat, Tigger, stood at his feet. They both squinted at me through the screen. “I thought she told you to go away.”

I winced. “She told you?”

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