Nailed It Read online

  Savannah shook her head. “I could tell that something was holding him back that night at Dad’s retirement dinner, and now I know it was because he has feelings for you. And you’re not a self-destructive mess. You’re just…relationship adverse.”

  “Understatement of the year, Savannah.”

  My best friend reached out and squeezed my hand. “Look, I always knew you and Jackson had some crazy strong chemistry, and honestly, at one point I worried you’d hook up and it would be a disaster. But after seeing the way you two interacted tonight, I’m fine with it.”

  “But it is going to be a disaster.”

  “It’s better to have a life of ‘oh wells’ than ‘what ifs,’” Savannah said, whipping one of her inspirational quotes out of her endless supply.

  Easy for her to say. Yes, she’d had ups and downs like anyone, in life and in love, but the “oh wells” in my life were far closer to “oh holy shit, that was an epic fail, and now I hurt everywhere.” Through the years, I’d learned again and again—and again—that most relationships ended. People changed or they left, or you changed and left, and if I kept everyone at a distance, it didn’t suck as bad when the endings came. It was my go-to coping and defense mechanism, and it’d kept me safe and secure for years.

  Lucinda poked her head into the room. “Don’t you girls want cake?”

  Um, hell yeah, I wanted cake. More than that, I needed something to take the edge off the fact that everyone around me was in denial. Usually that was my thing, and how dare they all take it from me and leave me to try to be the sensible one?

  If I was sensible, I wouldn’t be wearing this dress and five-inch heels to have dinner with my boyfriend’s family.

  Which, for the record, at the beginning of the evening, I didn’t have a boyfriend.

  I walked into the dining room, where the mess from dinner had been replaced with perfect slices of chocolate cake on little gilded plates. My not-boyfriend gave me a huge grin and patted his lap, like I was seriously going to pop a squat there.

  I shot him an I’m-going-to-murder-you-later look, and his return expression said he was looking forward to it. He could sit there all smug now, but tonight, I was going to take great pleasure in making him pay for pushing me into relationship territory without so much as a life preserver to cling to.

  “Here, take my seat,” Velma’s husband Dick said, and everyone scooted down one, leaving me a chair next to Jackson.

  Caroline’s family had tried to escape after the big relationship announcement but somehow had been convinced to stay for dessert—the Gambles obviously had some wicked powers of persuasion skills—so Caroline was seated on his other side.

  But I noticed she didn’t put her hand on his arm or even talk directly to him, and as I gave in to the urge to touch him and curled my hand around his thigh, the self-satisfied voice in my head said, That’s right. He’s my man.

  Try as I might, sensible and me never did get on for very long.

  Jackson draped his arm over my shoulders and leaned in for a kiss, and I met him in the middle. It was chaste as far as most of our kisses went, and he tasted of chocolate and cockiness, but even as angry as I still was at him for his stunt, affection over his display sang through my veins.

  Okay, maybe he makes a pretty good life preserver.

  When I pulled back, I noticed several smiles aimed our way, along with aww, ain’t that sweet looks, and pressure, even stronger than before, built in my chest.

  I thought not having their acceptance would be the worst thing that could happen, but I was wrong. Having it was. Because I knew that I’d screw things up and then they’d hate me, and now there was so much more at risk than just my heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “What were you thinking?” I asked as soon as we were in Jackson’s truck, away from prying eyes. Or at least with an extra filter, considering I wouldn’t be surprised if they were watching us through the window.

  “I was thinking that you were acting crazy and trying to push me away and that I was sick of backing down in the name of not scaring you off. I was also sick of pretending I didn’t want to wrap you in my arms and kiss you. I mean, have you seen the dress you’re wearing?” He tugged me across the bench seat until I was right next to him and skirted the hem of my dress with his fingertips.

  Suddenly I was glad that it was three to four inches too short for demure.

  Except, wait, I was still mad at him. Why did he make it so damn hard to remember that?

  I put my hand over his before I got lost in the drag of his fingertips and gave in to the awakening desire thrumming through me. “Now they’re going to be disappointed when it ends, and I’ll never be able to hang out with your family again.”

  “Guess that means you’ll just have to stick it out with me,” he said, infuriatingly unfazed as ever.

  “Jackson, be serious.”

  He slipped his hand behind my neck, guided my face to his, and gave me a hard, demanding kiss. “Babe, I’ve never been more serious.”

  I groaned. “You’re impossible.”

  “Right back at you.”

  I hated to bring up old hurts, but he was clearly forgetting them, so evidently, I had to go against my nature and be the responsible one. “Don’t you remember how hard we crashed last time, and that was after only a week.”

  He tensed, making it clear he did.

  “You’re right,” I said, forcing the words past my too-tight throat. “I scare easily, and when I felt myself growing attached to you, I freaked the hell out. I hope you know that I didn’t mean what I said that night at the club. I pushed too hard. I wish I hadn’t, and I regret that I ever pretended that week was anything less than amazing—that you were anything less than amazing. But you said it yourself, you knew how I was, and you still do, so…”

  He adamantly shook his head. “That’s bullshit, Ivy, and I’m calling you on it. I was wrong to say that back then, and I won’t let you believe it now. I was hurt and I lashed out, and I should’ve told you long before that I was sorry about that night.” He ran his thumb over my jaw in the way that I loved as his intense gaze met mine. “That day we put up the crown molding and talked about the guys your mom had dated, the same day we joked about time traveling? I told you that past me needed to learn more patience and understanding, and I meant it. That was my way of telling you that I was sorry, and I was working on it.”

  “That was an apology? Just a vague statement I was supposed to magically understand?”

  He slanted me a look.

  “Right, right. I’m a pot calling the kettle black. Guess that means I’m perfect for boiling this down. Basically, we’re both sorry that we hurt each other in the past.”

  He nodded.

  “And we’re gonna try really hard not to do it in the future?”

  His mouth curved into a half smile. “You said future.”

  “And apparently you want yours to only last another minute.” I gave his shoulder a shove, and his smile drifted into outright cocky territory.

  “Glad all that’s finally settled.” He reached for the gear shifter and put it in reverse, maneuvering the shaft between my thighs. After a suggestive look, he backed up the truck and then spun around. “Now, your place or mine?”

  Why did the first thought to enter my head have to be ours?

  I was so irrevocably screwed.

  …

  I wandered the aisles of the antique store, my gaze skipping over knickknacks, lamps, clocks, and china-filled cabinets. Usually I made these trips on a mission to find something in particular, but occasionally a piece spoke to me and said, “Pick me. I’ll be awesome with the right amount of work and paint.”

  With all the painting I’d been doing, I’d taken a break from my side hobby of stripping and refinishing furniture, picking up a paintbrush yet again the last thing on my mind. But this morning, my thoughts were too busy, all mixed up with Jackson and his family and my mom and who she was, and who I was, and I�
�d needed to get out of the house.

  The house where Jackson had stayed the night. He’d pulled me into his arms after we’d had sex and didn’t let go. It was like he’d decided we were together and there was no talking him out of it. While the guy did amazing contractor work, every screw in the right place, clearly the same wasn’t going on in his brain. There were loose screws up there for sure, leading him to ridiculously optimistic conclusions about us.

  Man, I wanted to be an optimist.

  I passed a side table that would be perfect for the entryway of the Victorian. It was silly to spend money on it since the house would be listed within a week or so, but I supposed a nice staging table might help it sell faster, and I could always Craigslist it later.

  I bartered with the lady in the store, convincing her to knock off twenty percent, and then spent ten minutes trying to maneuver the thing into the backseat of my car.

  I climbed in the driver’s seat and banged my elbow into the top of the table. “Really?” I rubbed at the tingly, not-funny-at-all spot. “I save you from a boring life crammed in that stuffy room, and this is how you repay me?”

  Hey, might as well embrace the bat-shit crazy, since that’s apparently what my “boyfriend” was into. I drove the five blocks to the Daily Grind. The fact that the place was Savannah’s second office made me hesitate. She’d been amazing last night—more amazing than I deserved, for sure—but she’d only remind me of the complications with Jackson, and I wasn’t sure my brain could handle any more anxiety-inducing thoughts.

  Then I remembered no one else’s coffee was as good, and in order to survive today, I needed better than subpar coffee. And about a case of Cherry Coke, but I already had that at home.

  Damn it, not home. The Victorian house that is soon to be sold to someone else, so get that in your head already.

  I grabbed the folder my best friend had made for me, thinking I’d peruse it while I sat and drank my coffee. Then I’d be an adult and go face the sexy guy who would probably be up and hammering away at something by the time I got back, making it impossible to remember why I shouldn’t try a full-blown relationship.

  After all, what would it hurt?

  Besides me. And him. And his whole family.

  My lungs deflated, and I pushed inside the Daily Grind. Savannah wasn’t seated among the tables and chairs, and while I’d worried about running into her, now I found myself wishing she was seated in one of the wingback chairs so I could plop down across from her and spill my guts.

  Nothing screamed desperation like actually wanting to talk about my emotions rather than going back to the house where I’d have to experience them.

  I paid for two coffees but asked the barista to wait to make the second, then settled into a table near the window and opened the folder. I’d meant to look at it several times the past few days, but life kept getting in the way.

  Now it was time to buckle down, make a plan, and figure out what direction to take my career. I flipped past the real estate agent information to the tabbed “sales section” at the very back. This must’ve been the promising job Savannah mentioned.

  Basically, the company wanted someone who could sell, but they also wanted him or her to acquire properties so they could flip them for a profit. The listing said sales experience was good, but they were willing to train and that the better the person did, the more she’d get paid.

  I liked that it was something I could control, and I was a born saleswoman. Or at least I could talk my way into being one, where I’d work to prove I deserved a shot. I knew enough to tell whether buildings had potential, and I could always use the phone-a-friend option and call Jackson if I needed a second opinion.

  Except that would be relying on him, and I’m already doing way too much of that.

  But whatever, this is a good lead. I input the number into the notes section of my phone, deciding I’d call this afternoon.

  “Hey,” a familiar voice said, followed by the scrape of a chair against the floor. Then my best friend sat across from me. “How you holding up after last night?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “And by fine do you mean freaking out and hiding in a coffee shop?” Savannah shifted forward in her seat. “No judgment, because I’ve done that before. Except since Linc knew this was my usual haunt, I had to hide out in a crappy café with super gross coffee, and even my newspaper told me I was being a wimp by hiding from him.”

  “Your newspaper told you?” I thought she was the saner of us, regardless of her silly notion of true love and Mr. Right.

  “It fell on the floor, right open to the crossword section, taunting me with the puzzles that Linc and I had started to do together. Trust me, I heard what it was telling me loud and clear.”

  I snickered. “Well, the man glitter on Jackson talks to me sometimes.”

  “Man glitt—” A light went on in Savannah’s head. “Sawdust?”

  “Yeah.” I bit my lip. “It says things like, ‘Don’t you wanna be nailed by the guy who works with his hands all day?’”

  “Chatty sawdust.” Savannah casually swiped my coffee cup and took a sip. “Notice how cool I’m being with your talk of my brother ‘nailing you,’ even though I’m keeping a tight lid on any imagery?”

  “Noted.”

  The barista called her name, and she hopped up to get her coffee. While she was fixing it up, I peeked at her notes.

  Step Two: Find hope. Believe there is a guy out there who can provide you with a relationship that restores faith in love.

  “Want me to print you a copy?”

  I pushed them away from me. “Hard pass.”

  Savannah laughed. “My little Ivy, so grown up and officially dating. It seems like only yesterday that she was wrinkling her nose over the word commitment.”

  I tossed one of the sugar packets I hadn’t used at her head, which only made her dodge and laugh harder. “Speaking of your inspiring notes, I was just looking at this acquisitions manager position. I’m totally going to give them a call.”

  “I think you’d be great at that. It’s at least worth looking into.”

  I placed my hand over the folder. “Thanks again for putting all this information together.” I glanced at the barista and signaled for her to make the cup of coffee I’d take to Jackson, then I returned my attention to Savannah. “I guess I better go get to work. Jackson and I only have one more week to finish up everything, and I’m not sure how we’re going to do it.”

  “I have a handful of client appointments lined up, but I could probably swing a few afternoons if you need me. I’ll rope Linc into helping, too. I’ll call you later, and we can figure it out.”

  “Sounds good.” I pushed out my chair and leaned over the table to hug my best friend. I’d been so worried she’d be mad after Jackson made that big announcement at her parents’ house—and I had a feeling she still would be if I ended up hurting her brother, unintentional or not—but it was nice that things were normal between us.

  “What was that for?” Savannah asked when I pulled away.

  “Because you’re you.”

  “Wouldn’t be me without you,” she said, and apparently, I was turning into a big old softie, because that made me want to hug her all over again.

  Instead, I grabbed the to-go coffee and went to spend the day with the guy I’d also spent the night with. Because I was trying out a new, semi-optimistic version of me, one who kept the things I liked about myself but also embraced new things that might make me even better.

  Chapter Thirty

  I followed the noise and found Jackson in the upstairs bathroom, installing the tile in the rain shower.

  He straightened when he saw me, and a slow smile curved his lips. Instead of trying to smother the butterflies stirring in my gut, I let them free.

  “I brought you coffee.”

  “After you finished having a freak out over the fact that I’d told my family we were dating and stayed the night?”

  I schooled my
features. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you don’t want my caffeinated offering, I’ll just drink it myself.” I took a sip and then stuck out my tongue. “Gah, you seriously must have a black soul to drink it like this.”

  “You’re just scared that it’ll thaw your icy heart, but the fact that you brought me coffee means it’s already too late, so you should just go with it.” Jackson took the cup from my hand and tipped it to his lips. He set it on the counter and then leaned in for a kiss. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now that everything’s painted in beautiful shades that I think are perfect, what should I work on next?”

  “So you’re really sticking with that purple in the third bedroom?” he asked. I shoved his arm, and he chuckled. “Maybe it’ll grow on me, like the apple green.”

  “If it doesn’t, we’ll just chalk it up to bad taste.”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me flush to him. “How about light fixtures? Nearly every one on the second level needs replaced, and it’s one of those little time-consuming things, but I could show you how to do one fairly quickly, then set you loose on the others.”

  “And what if I change out some of the light fixtures we bought for funky chandeliers instead? Just for funsies?”

  “Hey, if that’s what floats your boat, I won’t stop you. Even if I would say that most people prefer their chandeliers above their living room tables only, and even then, they want modern and not too low hanging.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  Jackson put the lid on the grout and wiped his hands on his filthy work jeans, and I thought again about how they were one of the sexiest pieces of clothing I’d ever laid eyes on. Besides speaking to his hours of working with his hands, there was the way they hugged his muscular thighs and were also snug enough to hint at what else he had going on.