Anna and Jackson Page 2

  A Slow Burn: Chapter 2

  “The wife will be here any minute.”

  “You mean my little sister,” Jackson said, eyeing the man he barely let live once he’d found out his best friend was getting fresh with his little sister.

  “Your little sister, my wife, same difference,” Treat grinned as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

  It was hot as hell outside and Jackson had to keep asking himself why he came to these things year after year after year. Because you’re the sheriff.

  The women were out en masse, and the men were imbibing by the keg. Tonight was going to get rowdy, especially now that the Donovan twins pulled up in their Twin Cab Ford pickup. Where one went, the other followed, it was amazing they didn’t hold each other’s dicks when they had to piss. Good thing Rowdy was on duty as well as two other deputies. He was going to need the help.

  “Sheriff.”

  A petite blonde walked by, making sure he saw the extra sway in her hips, Viola Sumner.

  “Viola,” Jackson tipped his head in her direction and smiled polite. She’d been prancing in front of him for weeks, showing off what she deemed her most likable assets. Being sheriff came with ease, and he knew once the festival was in full swing, all the women in Beauville, single or not, would be lining up to feed him their special dish.

  Jackson watched as people walked over to booths to look at preserves or crafts. Most everyone lined up for Ms. Mildred’s lemonade or for a taste of her pecan pie. Children were playing out in the field with sparklers, not caring that the sun hadn’t gone down yet; and new mothers gathered around their strollers, talking about the latest in baby gear. The older kids were over on the lake either making out or listening to their music, while the matriarchs of Beauville had their lawn chairs out under the gazebo drinking their spiked tea, and keeping eyes on their men, who were playing dominoes or horseshoes and drinking. Yup, the festivities would be well underway soon.

  “Here,” Treat handed Jackson a beer and he gratefully took it. Taking a long pull from the chilled bottle, the cold brew soothing his parched throat with the crisp taste of wheat and a hint of apple made him sigh with relief.

  “The little woman’s here,” Jackson’s brother-in-law said, walking towards his sister’s LS400. Someone else was in the passenger seat with her, but he couldn’t tell who because the windows were tinted.

  “Lord almighty, Annabelle Macon, is that you, girl?” Treat whistled as he walked to her side of the car, pulling her out and into his arms for a bear hug.

  Jackson couldn’t move, he could only stare. Hell, he may have even drooled a bit. Annabelle Macon was not the skinny little girl with pigtails he remembered from way back when anymore. She was a bronzed beauty with mahogany tresses streaked with highlights that flowed freely from her ponytail. Golden brown skin and light brown eyes looked past Treat’s shoulder and smiled his way. Her mouth made him think of lazy kisses that lasted well into the night; and her legs? Well, they just kept going and going and going. When Treat released her, she turned back to the car to say something to Joey, and Jackson was treated to the full view of her apple bottom. That ass was meant to fill his hands.

  Jackson’s pants tightened and he had to adjust himself before he could walk over and greet her properly. She was wearing a white, gauzy dress that hugged every curve of her beautiful body. She was his fantasy come to life, with her hair up, exposing her delicate neck and bare shoulders. The rest of her, encased in her dress, left nothing to his imagination, and Jackson had an excellent imagination. Today is turning out to be a great day, Jackson thought to himself.

  * * *

  Holy hell! They were making the white boys in Beauville extra-large. Jackson Storme was my kryptonite, my knight in shining, dark armor. I’d crushed on him before I even understood what crushing was. My girly parts were praising his name and totally onboard with getting a piece of that. He looked better than ever, black wavy hair that curled at his neck, broad shoulders that blocked out the sun, and a body that was as solid as a tree. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him anywhere. If there was, I couldn’t see it.

  His tight black tee and distressed jeans barely did the job of containing all of his raw masculinity; which was expected, this was, after all, Jackson Storme. The same boy turned man from my dreams. What I hadn’t expected, was the sheriff badge at his belt buckle and the gun on his hip, it ratcheted up the sexy factor past ten on my, “Damn-he’s-so-fine,” scale. But what really threw me were his eyes. They were a deep shade of brown that looked gold in a certain light. Hence his high school moniker, “The Golden God.” I was five years his junior and Jackson Storme never looked at me the way he was looking at me now. His eyes zeroed in on my face, starting at my eyes and sweeping down my body, only to move back up again. I swear I could feel his gaze undressing me slowly.

  “Girl, you are fine. I may have to trade up for a newer model.” Treat said grinning at his wife who slapped him hard in the chest, but turned to wink at me.

  “Told ya you were a hottie,” Joey cooed.

  I placed both hands out at my sides and turned around in a full circle, smiling over my shoulder at the happy couple before saying, “Y’all are just a bowl of sugar, the two of you.”

  “You know it.” Treat said. He looked down at his petite wife, and my heart hurt with happiness at the love I saw shinning out for the world to see. Those two were meant for each other. I wanted that kind of love someday. The kind where I couldn’t wait to see my better half. I’d wait up all night for their kind of love, refusing to close my eyes because I wanted to fall asleep in my man’s arms.

  Jackson took that moment to step forward tipping his head in my direction.

  “Annabelle.”

  “Sheriff Storme.”

  He smiled, and I swear my heart beat a little faster at the sight of his dimples. Joey and Treat were talking quietly amongst themselves leaving Jackson and me alone.

  “City life too fast for you? My sister told me you’d moved back from New York.”

  “Nah, just home for a while, taking a break. Joey didn’t tell me you were the sheriff. The badge looks good on you.”

  Hell anything would look good on him, present company included.

  He didn’t respond to my comment, just tipped his head forward again. That was one thing I didn’t really care for about Southern boys; they were always so damned polite. However, I’d learned a few things while living in New York, and one of my most valuable lessons was to live in the moment. Snatch it up and run with it because who knew when opportunity was going to throw you down on a bed, hell the ground at my feet, and give it to me raw and dirty like I knew Jackson could.

  “How long are you going to be in Beauville?”

  “Depends.”

  I wasn’t going to beat around the bush. I know when a man wants me.

  “On what, Annabelle?” My name was like gravel in his mouth. Like he was having a hard time talking to me, or maybe he was annoyed that I hadn’t given him a flat out answer. But damn his voice was darker, the drawl that all Southern men came standard with became slower, affecting that place between my thighs I so badly wanted to introduce him to.

  “On you, sugar.”

  I watched as Jackson’s pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. I could flirt with the best of them and not even bat an eyelash. I knew I wanted him. I wanted him something fierce, and had for as long as I could remember.

  “You taunting me, Annabelle?”

  He took a step forward, making me look up into his heated gaze. This conversation had taken a different kind of turn. I expected Jackson to be shocked, maybe even a little hesitant. But our harmless flirtation had become something altogether different, something sexy. Dare I call it foreplay?

  Normally, I needed to be touched, coaxed into the horizontal mambo, but Jackson Storme could make me come in zero to ten, I was one hundred and fifty percent positive we were eye-fucking right out in the open for all to see. The man threw off animal magn
etism in large doses. Someone needed to bottle his scent, which had somehow overpowered my senses, and sell it at top dollar, he was that intoxicating. It was a combination of virile man and hot summer mornings that slowly heated, until finally by mid-afternoon you were dying of thirst, because it was too hot.

  “Jackson Storme,” I smiled sweetly using my own Southern drawl and said, “I would never-ever think to do such a thing.” I bat my lashes and turned in the direction of Joey and Treat, thinking I could get away. The plan was to have him eating out of the palm of my hand by the end of the day. But he only let me make it five steps before grabbing my arm and turning me around to face him. The skin on skin contact had my breath hitching and my eyes widening in apprehension. Maybe I wasn’t ready for Sheriff Jackson Storme. His face was hard as he peered down at me and frown lines began to form around the corners of his mouth as he pulled me closer to whisper into my ear.

  “Miss Macon, do have a care in how you tempt me. I’m not like those little boys in the city. You can’t and won’t control me, honey.”

  Like I wanted to, I didn’t want to control him, hell I was willing to give up the control if he’d turn down the machismo a notch or two.

  “No one said anything about control, Sheriff Jackson,” At least I hadn’t said anything about it. My heart was tripping over itself as we stared each other down. His warm breath fanned my face and I knew I was crazy for blatantly licking my suddenly dry lips when we were so close together. I swear I could taste his skin as my tongue swiped my bottom lip. I was in trouble, but at the last moment, self-preservation kicked in and I snatched my arm away, walking over to Ms. Mildred’s table for her famous pecan pie. My throat was dry, and for no good reason, I was scared. Really scared. Not in a way a woman is scared that a man is out to harm her, but in a way that made me realize that if I wasn’t careful, Jackson Storme was going to break my heart. I’d only been home a day, and already, I was losing my touch on reality. He didn’t want me as his forever kind of girl. He just wanted me because I was the next available piece on his radar.

  “Hey there, Annabelle,” Mildred says smiling, showing her perfect white teeth.

  “Ms. Mildred.” I smiled, grabbing a cup to stop my hands from shaking and poured myself a drink of lemonade. Damn that man, getting me all hot and bothered and not doing a damn thing about it. I was more than ready for the hook-up, but it seemed like Jackson Storme was all talk. You ran away, Anna, not him. Then again, I knew the only person I was fooling was myself. He was the one to initiate physical contact, I had totally ducked and made my way back into my non-combative corner. Pecan pie forgotten, I tried to focus on Ms. Mildred as she asked about my mother.

  “How’s yo mama Pearl?”

  “She’s good, thanks for asking.”

  I brought the cup of lemonade up to my lips with a shaky hand. Damn, my heart still was running a damn race, and I knew I wasn’t sweating because of the temperature outside. It was him, all him. The celebration was in full swing, people lined up to grab their plates, and children were screaming for more time to play. Even the teenagers were in line to grab a bite to eat.

  “Best go get you a plate, honey.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Should I bring you one?”

  “No, girl, my nephew has my plate.”

  When I turned, I saw that JaDarius was indeed coming to bring his aunt’s plate. He was a tall lanky kid of about seventeen.

  “Hey, JaDarius.” I called, remembering how I used to babysit him back in the day when I was in high school.

  “Hi, Miss Macon.” He waved, handing his aunt her plate and bounded off in the direction of the other teenagers. I needed to focus on getting myself a plate, because if I set my sights on Jackson Storme, everyone here at the festival was going to get an eyeful.

  * * *

  Jackson stood back and watched as people milled about in line waiting to grab a plate of food. The breeze had died down and the heat from the sun was uncomfortably noticeable.

  “Hey, Sheriff.”

  Jackson stiffened at the sound of Viola. She was standing next to him, holding a tray full of brownies. He didn’t expect the women of Beauville to start swarming him until after they ate. Apparently, Viola was only concerned with eating desert first.

  “Viola.”

  “Love these festivals, don’t you?” She took a step closer, making sure her breasts skimmed his arm before turning her face up to smile sweetly at him. “Want to try one of my world famous brownies?”

  Jackson didn’t respond; he was watching Annabelle as she laughed and talked to the people standing in line around her. How was it he never noticed her before? She’d practically lived at his house when they were growing up. Had he known she was going to turn into such a looker, he’d have swooped in when she was old enough to understand what a man needed in the bedroom. All that soft supple brown skin would have been his for the taking.

  “Sheriff? Sheriff, I asked if you wanted some of my brownies.” Viola’s voice cracked at her last question. She was pretty, but she wasn’t beautiful, not on the inside at any rate. She was a vampire; the type of woman that once she got her hooks into you, her fangs would come out and suck you dry.

  “No, Vi, no brownies, not right now.”

  He’d been too deep in thought to form a response for Viola. On any normal day he’d have tasted her brownies, complimented her on them, and then taken her back to her place and given her a reason to say his name. Repeatedly. But not tonight, hell, not again. When a man found the woman he would have and protect, he zeroed in on how to catch and keep her. He wouldn’t risk losing that for some one-night stand.

  “Sorry, Viola, but I’m seeing someone.”

  “Since when?” Her voice went up in that annoying high-pitched shriek that made his eardrums bleed. Inwardly, he cringed, but on the outside, he gave her a tight smile.

  “Since about five minutes ago.”

  Jackson left Viola with her plate of brownies and her negative remarks.

  A Slow Burn: Chapter 3

  The rest of the day went by in a blur. After grabbing my plate, I walked over to a table and ate with Treat and Joey. Jackson and I didn’t have very many run-ins, although, I could feel him staring me down. It was a physical touch, even though he was nowhere near.

  “What did you do to my big brother?” Joey asked, taking a sip of her spiked tea.

  “Not a thing, why?”

  “He’s been staring at you all day like he’s hungry.”

  Joey of course was right, but not too long ago, he’d been standing under the big oak tree, talking to Viola Sumner.

  “Maybe he wants me to bring him a plate of food?” I questioned. I was being a smart ass, but couldn’t seem to help myself. Joey rolled her eyes behind her glass of tea, not responding to my remark. One of the things I missed about New York was that men didn’t beat around the bush. They wanted you; they made damn sure you knew what it was they were asking for. On the down side, they were usually impatient or quick to finish. Down South, everything and everyone is laid back and in the cut. No one rushed anywhere, it was as if every day was a lazy afternoon in the shade, sipping tea, or greeting folks as they walked by.

  “Usually you don’t have to bring him food; it tends to be brought to him. Most all the single females in this parish and three over come to these celebrations, just to feed my brother. It’s pretty stupid if you ask me, and it only further inflates his ego.”

  My mind made up, I decided that Sheriff Jackson Storme needed to eat, and I was going to be the one to feed him. I was walking back over to the table where the food was still out, and made sure to walk into Jackson’s line of sight, when I heard a familiar voice. Fuck my life, not this guy!

  “Hey there, pretty lady.”

  Ray Donovan, my biggest mistake. Someone shoot me now. Ray thought I was the one for him, and because of my inquisitive nature, not only had I given up the booty, I’d given it up the first time to him. Biggest mistake of my life, even after I explained things be
tween us were over, he just never seemed to get the message. He wanted me to have his rugrats, fix his food, and wash his clothes. No. Thank. You. He was a good-looking guy, hell he was even hot, but him and his twin Cody were knuckleheads of the worst sort. It was only a matter of time before they bit off more than they could chew, which is why half the women in the parish steered clear of them both.

  “You’re on the back of my truck bed watching the fireworks with me tonight, darlin’.”

  As if I wanted to sit on the back of anything with Ray Donovan.

  “Sorry, Ray, can’t. I promised Joey and Treat I’d hang with them.”

  I watched as Ray took off his hat and smiled wide. Dear Lord in heaven, he needed to see a dentist and quick. There were some teeth missing and if I wasn’t mistaken, he had food stuck in between the teeth that were still intact.

  “Girl, you know you want to pick up where we left off.”

  Is he serious? I turned, trying to ignore him by filling Jackson’s plate with food. I was not going to get into anything with him here at the festival, or any other time after that.

  “Ray, that’s over,” I said as polite as I could, and low so only he could hear me. One thing about men, didn’t matter if they were from the South or not. They hated to have what they deemed private business aired for all to hear. So me telling him that what we had in the past was over, well that would not go over well, if anyone else had heard me shoot him down.

  “I don’t remember you saying anything about us being over before you left. Hell, girl, I waited for you.”

  I whirled around, facing off with him. Not that I was angry, but I wanted him to know that I wasn’t stupid.

  “You waited all of ten days, before you went and slept with Jennifer Benoit, and the way I heard it, Ray, you knocked her up and somewhere out on the grass playing today is a little Ray Jr.”

  I hate drama, more than I hate my yearly physical exams. Drama in Beauville never stays in Beauville, this little tète a tète we were having was going to hit every single parish this side of Bossier City.