If you refuse a task, then you don’t get your night.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said I could have you in my bed anyway.”
“I thought you said no strings. With ground rules, those are strings.”
She had him there. “Fair enough, but if I’m dedicated wholly to this, then so must you be.”
“I am.” Her eyes narrowed.
“No, you’re not. There’s a picture of another man on your mirror.” He felt small and jealous by demanding she take it down, but it was still in his head. He didn’t like knowing that picture was part of a room of memories that should’ve belonged to him. Once upon a time, that mirror had been covered with pictures of him. He realized he’d taken her devotion for granted.
“Oh for the love of—” She rolled her eyes. “He’s just a memory.”
“So am I.” That was all she was to him, and that was what he wanted her to remember, that he wasn’t that Jack anymore. Only seeing evidence that she’d moved on, that someone else had taken his place—no, not his, the place that could’ve been his in her life—stirred up his guts like a stick in a rotten stew.
“Really?” She pursed her lips. “Marcel Babineaux has more right to that space on my mirror than you do. When I offered him my V-card, he didn’t say no.”
He knew that she was right, but being right only fueled his rage. Jack pushed her up against the door, and even though he was angry her arms still twined around his neck. “I’m the one that’s here,” he snarled.
“Are you?” she whispered against his mouth. “Are you really?” Betsy kissed him hard and fast. “Then I guess it’s you who’d best remember that when you’re talking about living and dying, huh?”
“And you should remember I’m not the same man who said no.”
When he would’ve slammed his mouth back down for another punishing kiss, the gentle touch of her cool fingers on his cheek stayed him.
“That’s not something that I’ll ever forget.” As if it was a good thing.
His anger dissipated like mist and he found he couldn’t even look at her. Jack tried to turn his face away, but she wouldn’t let him. Suddenly all of his sins were under a spotlight and he couldn’t hide them, but she continued to meet his eyes, unflinching and unafraid of anything she saw there.
“How did you get to be so strong?”
“You,” she said simply, and kissed him again. Her mouth was tender and reverent as it moved over his lips. The caress was everything he’d wanted to drive out of her. But he couldn’t. Not when she said he’d made her that way.
“Am I interrupting something?” Caleb asked, pushing the door open.
“Yes, and you obviously know you are and don’t care,” Betsy pointed out, slipping from Jack’s arms.
Caleb shrugged. “You’re right. Kick rocks, little sister.”
“Don’t you dare give him the big brother speech.”
“Wasn’t going to. We already did that Saturday morning.” Jack’s friend smirked.
“Oh really?” She scowled and put a hand on her hip.
“Yes, really.” He was unfazed.
“I don’t need you to fight any battles for me, Caleb.” Color rose in her cheeks.
“Who said we were fighting? Did you forget that Jack and I are friends, too? Go play dolls with India.”
“I’m going to tell her you said that.” Betsy and Jack shared a grin. He knew that if India thought he’d actually said any such thing, the consequences would be dire. He didn’t know how she did that—switched subjects and emotions so easily. She let each one roll through her—pass over her—just like a storm.
“You do that.” Caleb smirked again.
“I know that’s just a ploy to get rid of me, but I’m going along with it because I want to see her hand you your hind parts on a platter.”
“Bloodthirsty, isn’t she?” Caleb said casually as Betsy went inside the house.
“That’s tame compared to what’s going to happen if India thinks she’s serious,” Jack warned his friend.
“I know, but it’ll be worth it. I love that look of incredulity India gets when I say those things. It just completes my day.” Caleb laughed. “You should’ve seen her last week when we were watching the game and I told her to go get me a sandwich and a beer.”
“You live to annoy her.”
“I do. It’s brought me untold joy since we were kids.” Caleb shrugged again.
Silence reigned for a moment that stretched on forever. Jack got the impression that Caleb was waiting for him to fill it with something, but he didn’t know what to say.
“So, you wanted to get rid of Betsy. I assume to talk about her?”
“No, I just wanted to rile her up, too. It’s a spectator sport.”
“Living dangerously.”
“No, living dangerously would be to have a few more beers and challenge the girls to a round of Ghost in the Graveyard after dinner.” Ghost in the Graveyard was essentially a mashup of tag and hide-and-seek played in the dark.
“Oh yeah, that’ll be fun,” Jack said in a tone that indicated it would be anything but fun.
“It’ll be like old times. Except Betsy’s old enough to play.”
Jack cut a sharp glance at his friend, wondering if he meant the double entendre the way it sounded. “Man, if you want to chase India around in the dark, you don’t need a game of Ghost in the Graveyard. You should just tell her. That way I don’t have to fall and break a hip just so you can get into her fatigues.”
“You’re a crappy wingman.” Caleb took another pull off his beer.
Jack was surprised Caleb hadn’t argued with him about wanting to be with India. He’d refuted it so many times when they were growing up, his protestation had started to sound like a scratched CD.
“I’m crappy at a lot of things.” Jack would be the first to admit it.
“Did you really tell Betsy that we should go play with our dolls?” India stood like a raging Valkyrie in the arch of the door, eyes narrowed and cheeks flushed.
Caleb smirked at Jack. “See what I mean?”
For the first time, Jack looked at India and really saw her. She wasn’t the tomboy kid who always had a dirty shirt, tangled hair and a scowl on her face any longer. India George was a woman—a beautiful woman. Not as beautiful as Betsy, but Jack could see the appeal and knew why Caleb liked to bring that flush to her cheeks.
“Yeah,
