style="font-size:15px;"> “I said I kissed her.”
“Marybell? Marybell Lyman—the one with the Mohawk?” Jax did a thing with his hands in the air over his head.
“That’s the one.” The one who’d, with just one quick kiss, set him on fire—reminded him he was still a man with working parts.
“Can I ask why?”
“Can I ask why you’d ask why?”
Jax scruffed his hand over his jaw and frowned at Tag. “Because it’s sort of out of the blue and really random, especially with you lately. You’d just as soon bite someone’s head off than kiss her.”
“Sometimes kisses are like that. Random.” It had taken him by surprise, too. But there she was, smelling amazing, her back up, her luscious lips covered in some crazy metallic-blue lipstick, and he couldn’t resist.
At first he’d kissed her because he didn’t want to hear that she wasn’t dating right now. He didn’t know why those words were so unacceptable to him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been turned down for a date before. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t still stinging from a long-term relationship not so long ago. He had baggage. He didn’t want more.
Yet somehow those words were just unacceptable coming from her shiny-blue lips. So he’d kissed her—he wasn’t even sure if he’d expected the kiss to be especially good. But it was.
And yep, it was definitely uncharacteristic of him as of late. It was more like the old Tag. The one he couldn’t seem to dig out in the rubble of his life—forgive the past. Maybe that was why he was so fixated on Marybell. Because she shook something up in him—something that kept him on his toes—something that felt real.
“You don’t even know her, and you just laid one on her?” Jax pressed.
“I met her when I lit her pilot light for Em.”
“Is there some kind of magic involved in lighting a woman’s pilot light all these years I’ve been missing? I’d have lit one a long time ago.”
Tag grinned. “No, you wouldn’t have. You were waiting for Em to come along. And ya done good, brother.”
Jax smiled, that smile he always smiled whenever Em’s name was mentioned. Kind of stupid and head over heels, but nice. “Damn right I did. But that doesn’t explain how, after one light of a pilot, you were kissing Marybell.”
“I like Miss Marybell. She always makes me paper dolls when we go to Miss Dixie’s house for pool parties. Her hair is so cool,” his niece, Maizy, chimed from the playroom adjoining the kitchen where Tag was expending an infinite amount of time making bologna sandwiches for the date Marybell had never officially agreed to.
“She’s nice, right, A-Maizy?” Tag confirmed. He smiled and winked at her. He didn’t know why seeing Marybell was making him stupidly happy. But it was.
He’d woken up today with a smaller knot in his chest than usual. His financial worries, his life issues didn’t seem as daunting this morning, and when he thought about that, Marybell’s face had popped into his head.
“Does Em know you kissed her?”
Tag stuffed a sandwich into a Zip-Loc bag and frowned. “Why does Em have to know I kissed her?”
“Kissed who?” Em asked, floating into the kitchen to settle herself against Jax’s side with a sigh and a squeeze of his brother’s hand while her boys, Clifton Junior and Gareth, flew into the playroom to join Maizy. She dropped a plate of brownies on the counter for them. One of the many perks of Emmaline Amos.
He liked Em. She’d changed everything for Jax and Maizy. She was a pear-scented whirlwind of hugs and kisses, freshly baked pies, well-balanced meals for Maizy, and one of the biggest badasses with a band saw he’d ever seen.
Truth be told, he and his younger brother, Gage, were probably needed a whole lot less in Maizy’s case since Em had come into their lives. They’d both come to Plum Orchard for their own reasons, but the biggest one had been helping Jax take care of his best friend’s daughter.
Now Em did all the things they’d once done to help Jax, and she did them a damn sight better than the two of them ever had.
But Em wouldn’t hear of them leaving Georgia—even though a small part of the reason he’d come to Plum Orchard, to help Jax renovate their aunt’s old house, was no longer a valid reason. The house was mostly done, and this was due in part to Em who’d organized and planned until it was exactly the way Jax claimed he’d envisioned it.
He should be out trying to get some contracting work. Unfortunately, his tarnished reputation made that almost impossible, and here in Plum Orchard, there wasn’t a huge call for contractors. So he took side jobs that paid little but kept him doing what he loved to do more than most anything else. Building things.
He’d thought for sure now that Jax had Em, he and Gage would just be in the way of the eventual blending of their two families.
But Em had sat both men down and firmly said, with a teasing smile, “Ya’ll don’t become less important to Maizy and Jax because the house is finished. You’re all she’s ever known since birth. You’re family. Why should that change because of me and my interferin’? You both stay put until you want otherwise. I can work around you.”
He’d been surprised by her attitude. Thought for sure, even the nicest of women wouldn’t want two messy, loud roughnecks with more issues than a stack of magazines hanging around. But not Em. Em had embraced them as hard as they’d embraced her, but most of all, she’d brought all the things to Maizy’s life not one of the Hawthorne brothers could.
Hair ribbons and sparkly dresses and pink castles made out of life-size LEGOs. Nail polish, facials, bedtime stories of evil queens vanquished with the power of love, girl time once a week with Em and the women at Call Girls and a million hugs and kisses.
“So, who are you kissing, Tag?”
“He kissed Marybell,” Jax teased.
Em’s blue eyes went wide as she pulled off her coat and scarf. “My Marybell?”
“Did you have dibs on her, Em?” Tag teased, reaching for the bag of chips he’d dug out of the pantry.
Em made a face at him, her fingers going to her throat in a gesture he knew well. It was a signal she was concerned. “Oh, hush. I’m just surprised.”
“That she’d let a schlub like me kiss her?”
“That she’d let anyone kiss her. Marybell’s...”
Tag’s ears instantly went on alert. “Marybell’s what?”
Em sighed, her eyes thoughtful and cautious. “I don’t know. She’s very private. I just get the impression she’s had some troubles, though I don’t know what, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be tellin’ tales out of school. So you mind yourself, Taggart Hawthorne. I won’t have you upsettin’ my girl with your unspeakable charms.”
Yeah. He got that Marybell was private—closed off somehow; he just didn’t know from what. But he wanted to. “My unspeakable
