Page 11 of Tangled Desires

Jagger’s dirty blond hair is longer than before, grazing the top of his collar, tousled in a way that makes you think he’s run his fingers through it multiple times when I’ve yet to see him do so. The loose waves, the style, it seems unkempt, giving him the free spirit vibe, like he’s someone who doesn’t follow the rules; that’s who he was years ago. I’ve got a feeling the adult version of Jagger is more along the lines of a bend-the-rules-until-they-break kind of guy.

When our eyes meet across the room, mine drown in his, blue like the sky just before dusk, the quiet intensity sucking me into their vortex. I’d be the willing victim to drown in them. I’ve had to tell myself relentlessly to quit staring at the man who at one time meant everything to me in the form of a best friend slash secret boyfriend. We’d kept things quiet, didn’t tell our parents, hiding our true feelings, though my mom knew. How couldn’t she? And how could I not fall for the man who reminds me so much of the boy that was my childhood best friend and once boyfriend?

I continue my perusal, taking in the strong structure of his face, the chiseled jawline, sculpted with pure masculinity in mind, and you know there are women who look twice. A lot of who are probably breaking their necks to get his attention. His lips are lush and inviting, with a natural softness that makes you want to press yours against them. Jagger’s upper lip is fuller, and when his teeth press down on thelower lip like they do now, I’m tempted to throw caution to the wind and launch myself into his arms.

His build is strong and muscular, the white cotton tee only showcasing his broad shoulders, wide chest, and massive-as-hell arms. His powerful torso tapers down to a narrow waist, flaring out to thick thighs encased in worn jeans, stained in various places, a rip in the back pocket, highlighting an ass I’d like to sink my nails into.

Jagger Steele is like a Viking god. Tall, strong, built, and you know without a shadow of a doubt he’d protect you by any means possible. What I don’t understand is how the connection we so clearly had at one time was severed without so much as a backward glance from him. I’ve tried to start a conversation about what happened in the past; then again, I broke down. Maybe another time, we can sit down and figure out what transpired.

“Is everything okay?” I ask once he stops moving around. Following him around felt intrusive, though he’d question me about what I wanted here or there. I wish I had grabbed the box of pictures and whatnot as he closes the case to his tablet.

“Yep, why don’t we take this outside?” Jagger must have realized the house started getting to me in the form of fanning myself and wrinkling my nose. “With there being no power, there’s no circulation, and there’s no air conditioning. The water being turned off for who knows how long makes for an unpleasant smell. The fresh air will do us some good.”

“I agree.” As we walk back through the house, Jagger’s hand slides to my lower back, hand wrapping around my hip. I almost freeze on the spot, and it’s only sheer will anddetermination that make me keep up with him while he guides me. We skirt around the tripping hazards, sharp corners from drywall being ripped apart, and the small table that’s seen better days. When I came back from my car, I left the door open on purpose, a forethought I’m entirely happy about now. The one downfall is losing Jagger’s hand the minute we make it outside.

The breeze from the oak trees calms my heated flesh, and as much as I’d like to say it’s from being inside the too humid house, a lot has to do with the man standing beside me. I look around, trying to keep my gaze from locking with Jagger’s, thinking about where I can place a couple of Adirondack chairs; boy, would I really like them right about now. My body is still protesting after all the work I did yesterday. I’m also beginning to think taking today off from attacking the backyard is a great idea.

“Is it possible to salvage any of the tile in the bathrooms?” I ask, breaking the ice while opening my notebook and looking where I made notes on what I’d like to restore. The mint green and black tile in the front bath is one of them. The light pink and darker hues in the bathroom off the master bedroom is another. When I looked at it with Eleanor, I only spotted a few cracks in some of the pieces. “I’m not looking for perfection,” I tack on in case Jagger thinks I’ve somehow formed two heads.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure the crew knows not to demo those rooms. Are you good with the bathtubs staying the same? Getting the old cast iron tubs out in one piece will be hard to do, and setting a new one up could potentially lead to us needing to remove tile,” Jagger answers right away.

“The tubs are good. I mean, they’ll need a really good scrubbing, but you’re not going to find another well-made tub like that.” I’m not a bath type girlie. I prefer a shower, the hotter the better and stinging like needles because the pressure is that amazing.

“Then you’ll be good. We’ll patch, paint, and fix the walls along with whatever else needs to be done. The next order of business is doing a thorough inspection of the house. Structural, foundation, plumbing, electrical, and roofing.” He looks at me. This is the crappy part of being an adult, and my face must say it all. “I get it. No one likes this part.” You can say that again. I’d much rather see what money is being spent on visually instead of it being out of sight and out of mind.

“Well, that’s life.” I close my notebook. Everything else will be ironed out once Jagger gets the ball rolling and the estimate sent over. I’m sure he heard me when I said I’d like to have real wood kitchen cabinets, preferably painted a sage green or light blue. I’d also mentioned butcher block countertops instead of the preferred granite or quartz most homeowners gravitate toward. I’m looking for homie and comfortable. I’ve dealt with cold and sterile enough while having nurses and doctors in and out of my life.

“Yeah, I’ll do a thorough walkthrough of all of that in a few minutes. The only hiccup we’ll have is checking the plumbing and electrical today. If you can work on getting those turned on in the next couple of days?” I look up, way up, and realize he’s crowded my space more than I realized.

“I can do that.” Tomorrow is my day to tackle the backyard. Monday will mean I’ll have a breather from physicallabor. I’ll deal with those two items and maybe hunt for a job while I’m at it.

“Next thing, do you have a spare key?” Jagger asks. My back is facing the oak tree; I’m unsure of what to do next. Am I allowed to touch him? Is he allowed to touch me? I’m in uncharted territory, which really sucks since there’s so much I want to do. My breathing becomes shallow, my knees weaken, and I’m more than aware that my panties are saturated. Maybe I should add ‘use my toy’ to my list of things to do today.

“I do,” I stammer out, pulling my keys out of my pocket, where I have two on one ring holder. The lawyer, who, bless his heart, did way more than anyone else ever would. I figured since I’d been Dad’s sole caregiver, I’d have been privy to a lot more than what I was. Apparently, Mom’s last wish came directly from her. They put money away to deal with anything that could come our way. She knew, God, did she know how heartbreaking and time-consuming it would be watching Dad go through the process of losing the ability to do what he used to and not adding more to my plate.

“Alright, I’ll take it. Also noticed the lock gave you some trouble. We won’t change that out until a new door is installed.” I go about taking the spare key off the keyring and depositing it into the palm of Jagger’s hand.

“Did I miss the fun part?” Eleanor breaks the spell, and Jagger takes a big step back. A low whimper escapes me before I can suppress it.Damn it, Lyric, you are showing your hand, and to a man who is giving you mixed signals.

“Not at all,” I say, reviving myself from looking like a little girl who lost her prized possession in the form of a stuffedanimal. The need to fidget takes ahold, so I swiftly put my unoccupied hand in my pocket.

“We’re all done here. I’m going to finish checking out the house, put the estimate together, and then head out,” Jagger states, giving his mom more information than he’s given me. That kind of stings. I turn my head, allowing myself a moment away to clear the sting I’m sure shows with my facial expression. I never could play poker for that reason alone; I wear my heart on my chest entirely too much.

“That’s good. No price gauging my favorite girl, Jagger Steele,” I hear Eleanor say as Jagger lets out a snort. I’m able to regain my composure and watch the two of them joke with each other.

“And never hear the end of it? Not me.” He puts his hand over his heart and smiles at his mom. Well, shit, I’m wholly underprepared for Jagger. Truth be told, I have been all along. The smirk, I could get past without my body turning into an inferno of need and desire. A full-blown smile, I’m done for. The world goes sideways, my nipples tighten, my pussy weeps, and there’s no way I can control them, either. Had I not realized my early slip-up, I’m pretty sure I’d let out a moan to rival all moans.

“A discount, then?” Eleanor teases.

“No, no, no. Please don’t. That’s completely unnecessary,” I interject, reeling from the thought and becoming mortified over the notion she’d even bring that up.

“Ellie.” I’m saved by Troy, Jagger’s father.

“Thanks, Dad. Saving the day per usual.” Jagger looks over my shoulder, giving his dad a subtle nod.

“Jagger, really, don’t do that, please,” I reiterate, making sure he knows I’m not looking for handouts.

“You’re good, Lili.” He realizes the error of his ways and clenches his jaw after using the name only Jagger used for me so long ago, and I haven’t heard it in just as long.

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