Page 29 of Carry Me Home
For the most part, anyway.
Jack was here somewhere. Sweetie Pies was catering the event and he had volunteered to help his mom set up. I oscillated between wanting to see him andnotwanting him to see me. I didn’t feel like myself here. But still, I kept my eyes peeled for him as I left the portico and crossed the lawn.
I did a quick turn around the garden with Mom, Dad, and Claire, greeting the early arrivals. Mom had taken in my excessive boobage with a cool nod that made me wonder if it had been her intent all along.Icky. Dad had said hello with his usual jovial smile, which he kept glued to his face while he told everyone how much he loved having me by his side every day at the ranch. No one at the party was local to Aspen Springs, and more importantly, they wouldn’t be caught dead in the Painted Cat. They had no idea the idyllic picture Dad painted of our family life was a lie.
They didn’t know a damn thing about me.
And they definitely didn’t know about Maya.
11
JACK
Holy shit,the Belmont ranch was huge—and this wasn’t even the part where they kept the cattle. Acres of grass that had no right to look this green and a sprawling house that was more suited to Beverly Hills, California, than Aspen Springs, Colorado. I had known that Janie and I came from opposite sides of the railroad track, butdamn.
She had been raised with all this. What the hell was she doing at the Painted Cat?
With all those acres spread out before me, it hit me how absolutely ludicrous it was that I had never considered it until she had brought it up. But the truth was, she didn’t act like someone who had money. She looked completely comfortable behind the bar in her worn-in Levis and scuffed boots. She handled rowdy customers and their less-than-hygienic bathroom habits without batting an eye—all right, she batted an eye and bitched a bit, but she still did her job. She dealt with whatever came her way. She never tried to shove the more disgusting parts on someone else.
She fit there. She didn’t fit here.
At least, the Janie I knew didn’t fit here. But maybe I didn’t know Janie all that well, after all.
“You can set up the mini quiches over there, if you please, Cat,” a woman’s voice said.
Since I was holding two trays of mini quiches myself, I looked up. I recognized her from the other day at Sweetie Pies. Maya’s grandmother—which meant she was Janie’s mother. And behind her?—
Shit.
I damn near swallowed my tongue.
Janie.
And her tits.
Janie’s tits.
Tits.
“Do you mind if I grab one, Cat?” Janie asked, already reaching for it. “I didn’t get a chance to eat before I came here, and I amstarv—oh, hi, Jack.”
Before this moment, I would have said that the hardest thing I’d ever done was BUD/S training. Now? Janie Belmont had raised the bar. Nothing in this world was as excruciating as prying my gaze from Janie’s luscious cleavage. I was no better than that creep who had leered at her in the bar.
I dragged my gaze upwards and found her watching me, chocolate eyes glowing with amusement, her lips tilted in a full smirk. I cleared my throat. “Hi, Janie.”
“Hi,” she said again. She bit off half the quiche and her eyes rolled back. “Oh, mygod, Cat. These are divine.” She popped the rest in her mouth and made another sound of ecstasy.
Shit. My pants were uncomfortably tight now. I could only hope no one noticed I was sporting wood. Just in case, I lowered the trays slightly to block the view.
Mom put a second quiche on a cocktail napkin and offered it up. “Would you like another one before we hand them out?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Janie said cheerfully, but her mother got there first, scooping up the quiche before Janie could take it.
“Nothing else is going to fit into that dress, Janie,” Mrs. Belmont said. She didn’t eat it herself, though. Instead, she folded the napkin around it and tossed it into the trash can behind the table.
Next to me, my mother inhaled sharply. Janie froze. Shock and hurt flashed across her face before both were quickly hidden behind a bland smile. She picked up a quiche and pushed the whole thing in her mouth. Mrs. Belmont’s lips thinned as Janie chewed, each movement of her jaw slow and deliberate.
That’s my girl.
