Page 21 of Free to Believe
Right before she slams the door in my face.
* * *
“I can’t believeyou were such a jackass to Emily,” Dani screeches in my ear hours later.
“She threatened to have me arrested,” I protest. I take a pull of the beer I’m drinking as I sit on the back deck admiring the view of the Atlantic Ocean at sunset. It stirs something in me, the swirling orange, pinks, and red hues of the sky. It almost makes me feel like grabbing my sax from downstairs and letting loose with some Coltrane. It’s full of soul. But I haven’t picked up that instrument in more years than I care to count. The sax requires a certain combination of feeling.
And they’re not inspired by the ice brick living next door.
“Listen, you dick, I just found out what’s really going on. You have no idea of the crap she’s been through in the past few weeks, so cut her some slack.”
Curious, I ask, “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s not my story to tell. Would you want someone going around telling stories about me? About you? About Jenna?”
“Hell no,” I say emphatically.
“Then let me just say she has good reason to be wary of the world in general—men especially.” The disgust in Dani’s voice reminds me of all the phone calls we shared when she was first starting out in the modeling business. I frown. Maybe a photographer got handsy with her? Someone wanted to sleep with her for a job? I know Dani went through her fair share of bullshit when she was first starting out. My protective instincts kick in.
“Fine. I’ll go apologize.” If I had a choice, I think I’d rather let Jenna dye her hair permanently the colors it was this morning. I lift my beer to my lips.
“How about just not going out of your way to be a complete asshole?” Dani suggests. “Besides, I can’t believe Em had that severe of a reaction once you told her who you were.”
I pause in the act of drinking. Shit, this is going to go downhill. “I think there’s more than a little misconception between your friend Emily and I.”
There’s a deathly quiet on the other end of the line. “What do you mean?” Her voice is lethal. Kind of like the way it got when we were kids and I cut off all her Barbie dolls’ hair.
“I never introduced myself to your friend.” Sliding my hand into my pocket, I finger the hundred dollars Emily gave me. “I kind of got sidetracked.”
A soft feminine voice with a hint of a drawl comes from behind me. “Is that before or after you called me an icy bitch, Jacob?” I whirl around to find Emily has added a loose sweatshirt on top of the outfit she was wearing earlier. “After I talked with Dani and found out who you were, I figured I’d make amends.” A dark smile crosses her face. “Then again, maybe I don’t need to after all.”
12
Emily
So, this is Dani’s cousin Jacob Madison. Now that I’m getting a good look at him, I can the see the Madison genes breed true. He’s disturbingly good-looking with a chiseled jawline and blond hair that’s obviously had his hands run through it, tempting a woman to sink her own hands in there.
Too bad he’s a man and I’ve mentally sworn them off for the foreseeable future while I figure out who the hell I am again under the impossible pressure of designing a collection to knock Fashion Week on its ass.
When I have the chance to design clothes for her, Dani talks openly about the love she has for Brendan and her immediate family. And all of them were thrilled when Brendan asked her to marry him earlier this year in their home in Nashville. But during one of our fittings, Dani’s admitted to being worried about the relationship between her cousin and his teenage daughter. I’m beginning to understand why. If her niece is anything like my adopted sisters were at that age, then her brusque father must seem like an overbearing pain in the ass.
“I just came to reimburse you—Dani—for the groceries and coffee maker.” Holding out a stack of twenties, I march straight forward. I ignore the tingling of my body as his hand scrapes against mine when he accepts the money. “It was generous, but I pay my own way.”
“Dani, I’ll call you back,” he mutters into the phone. He arches a brow. “I suppose I should offer an apology.”
“Not if you don’t mean it.” I change the subject. “Are there any rules I need to know while I stay here?”
His eyes narrow. They’re a beautiful shade of mahogany brown with long, dark lashes that contrast with his sun-tipped hair. My artist’s mind is already taking note of the details of his face.
God, he’s got one hell of a face.
I frown. I shouldn’t be noticing it. Not after everything.
“Like what?” His voice is about as welcoming as the iceberg was to theTitanic.
I sigh. “Like, can I walk my dog without a leash on the beach? What are the rules about parking? Is there anything I need to avoid on the property?”
“Most of the beach on the island is private, including ours. While there is technically a leash law, as long as it’s your property, your little yap-yap dog can be off the leash as long as you have it under control.” Jake’s voice is full of derision.
