them in a long time. “So who’s this gorgeous woman?”
“Emmaline Amos.” Just saying her name made his gut tighten, bringing to mind those red, red lips of hers. Double shit.
“The one with the ex-husband who wears women’s clothes?”
Jax’s jaw stiffened, his grin fading. He’d never forget the pain on Em’s face the night he’d first seen her in the square after her husband’s secret was revealed at the Founders’ Day gathering.
Raw and so damn palpable. Raw enough that even without knowing anything about her, he’d wanted to beat the shit out of the person responsible for making her cry. “You heard, then?”
Tag nodded, leaning his arm against the chipped pink-and-gray ceramic tile on the wall. “Who hasn’t? This town sees everything, man. Everything. They talk the hell out of it, too. Especially those women who’re part of that gladiola club—or whatever they call it.”
Jax chuckled. “I think it’s Magnolias, and I’ve met Louella and her crew. Interesting bunch.” Somehow, in all the summers he’d spent at his aunt’s, he’d managed to overhear bits and pieces of the gossip that seemed to fuel such a small community, and the Magnolias were almost always at the center of it. Or if Aunt Jess’s words were right, they were the cause of it.
Tag’s broad shoulders rolled. “I don’t know. It’s some damned flower or another. You can’t go into that diner without hearing something about someone.” He put a hand on Jax’s shoulder, his eyes searching his older brother’s.
Tag knew how and when to look for signs something was up with Jax when no one else did. “So what’s so special about Emmaline Amos that she made you decide to crawl out from under your rock after not a single date since the Stone Age?”
Jax shifted his eyes first, focusing on rinsing the sink. He didn’t have an answer to what drew him to Em. He was just drawn—sucked in—total immersion. That was more than he could claim about a woman in a long time. “Not a date,” he repeated.
“Jax’s coming out from under his rock?” Gage asked, pushing his way into the crowded bathroom just like he’d always done since he was ten. “Good. Means you can do the dishes.”
Tag slapped his little brother on the back. “Yep. So that means we’re on dish duty tonight, bro, and Maizy duty, too. Big brother’s got a date.” He cackled the words like they were joke-worthy.
But it wasn’t a joke. He hadn’t dated in a few years. And he wasn’t dating tonight.
Gage whistled and grinned, his face lighting up. “A date? Nuh-uh. Who’d date you, you ugly schlub?”
“Not a date,” Jax repeated.
“Emmaline Amos,” Tag replied, adopting his impression of a feminine voice, complete with a bat of his eyelashes and a twirl of his finger around a lock of his shaggy hair.
Gage’s eyes opened wide. “No shit! The one that works at the phone-sex company with Caine?”
Jax’s eyes narrowed in Gage’s direction. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Gage. She’s the GM. She doesn’t answer the calls.”
Gage flicked his fingers at Jax’s reflection. “Oh, stop getting your back up. Still, workin’ in a place like that—” he wiggled his dark eyebrows “—I bet she knows a thing or two.”
Tag slapped him on the back of the head. “Shut up, Gage. This is the first time our wee boy’s been out in as long as you’ve been sexually active. Leave him the hell alone.” Tag’s eyes sought Jax’s again with the “If you need to talk...” signal before he said, “I’m happy for you, man. Glad to see you’re getting out. New town—new life. Clean slate, right?”
Jax and Tag had a clear understanding of clean slates. Both of them wanted one—both of them were going about finding them in their own ways.
Maizy, the final piece to their nonconformist, but totally a work-in-loving-progress puzzle, dipped between pairs of legs to latch on to Jax’s thigh. “You’re going out, Daddy?”
He looked down at his daughter; her bright auburn hair and freckles so much like her mother’s, so unlike the Hawthorne’s dark looks, and his chest tightened with that unconditional love her dark, chocolate-brown eyes summoned. “I am, kidlet.” He scooped her up in his arms, dropping a kiss on her freckled nose. “You got a problem with that?”
She captured both sides of his face and rubbed their noses together. “Only if you’re going out for ice cream. Then I’d be madder than a hornet.”
Jax hitched his jaw, making a comically confused face. “A hornet? Where’d you learn that, Maizy-do?”
She roped her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his. “Uncle Gage says it all the time. He said it’s better for me ’n the S word.”
Jax rolled his eyes at Gage. “A sight better, I’d say. So, you gonna eat all your dinner like a good girl for Uncle Tag while I’m gone?”
“If he promises not to burn the fish sticks again.” Her honesty always made him laugh. They were all shitty cooks. Him probably being the shittiest. On the best of nights, they only managed to eke out a barely passable meal for Maizy. It included all the approved food groups suitable for a six-year-old.
It just wasn’t always edible—at least not the outside of it. Sometimes, if you picked your way to the middle of a chicken breast, there was a silver lining. But what Maizy lacked in their culinary finesse, they more than made up for with love. No one would ever mess with Maizy Hawthorne as long as her uncles and father were around.
“Note to self—Daddy needs to watch the Food Network more.” He’d made a vow—once they settled into this rundown house so full of all the potential Gage and Tag kept talking about, he’d learn to cook. For Maizy. Because everything was for her, and that’s how it was going to stay.
“Hey!” Tag teased, tugging on a tightly coiled ringlet of his niece’s hair. “They were blackened fish sticks, thank you very much, Ms. Food Critic. Cajun style. I was trying to broaden your food horizons.”
Maizy shook her head full of curls and wrinkled her nose with her trademark display of disapproval at Tag. “Uncle Gage said that was a fib. It was really just burned. It was yucky.”
Gage scooped her out of Jax’s arms and swung her around his back so she could hold tight to his neck piggyback style. “It sure was yucky. Probably the biggest fib Uncle Tag ever told you, too. It was right up there with, ‘Look, Maizy-do—this big ole gooey mess tastes just like Chicken McNuggets if you close your eyes and pretend. Give it a chance.’”
Maizy giggled, squeezing Gage’s neck. “That was so gross. So if Daddy won’t be here, will you be my unicorn tonight, Uncle Gage?”
Gage reached upward and ruffled her hair with a smile. “I’ll always be your unicorn.”
The phone interrupted Maizy’s giggling as Gage galloped out of the bathroom with her. “I’ll get it. You finish prettying up for your daaate,” Tag drawled with a laugh.
One last glance in the mirror, and Jax sucked in a deep breath, bracing his hands on either side of the pink, shell-shaped sink. Damn.
