Jonquils for Jax (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #1) - Katy Regnery Page 0,10
the whisper-soft silk top and heading for her bathroom. After removing the velvet scrunchie, she brushed out her hair in front of the mirror. Checking her face, she noted some discoloration around the Band-Aid—lavender-and-yellow bruising—and Jax winced at the ugly swelling that spanned the space from her eye to her hairline. Damn Tripp anyway.
Suddenly Mad was beside her, dabbing concealer gently around the wound as she stared at her older sister in the mirror.
“Chéri,” said Mad, avoiding Jax’s eyes as she rubbed in the skin-colored liquid with a feather touch. “You need to be more careful. He could have really hurt you.”
…enroll yourself in a self-defense class if you’re goin’ to hang out with rapists…
“I know,” she said softly, shame coloring her cheeks.
“It must have been scary,” said Mad, knowing it was true but also knowing how much it would bother Jax to admit it out loud.
Their eyes met in the mirror, and a moment of perfect twin-communication passed between them:
I hate this, thought Jax. I hate feeling helpless.
Mad nodded, her face concerned. I know. I’m sorry. She put the cap back on the makeup, put the container on the counter, and then pressed her lips to Jax’s cheek. “Je t’aime.”
“I love you too.”
“I think…” said Mad, her voice brightening as she grinned at Jax in the mirror. “I think you should go thank the hot, new gardener for his help. You’ll feel better.” She patted Jax on the shoulder. “I’ll go find your sandals.”
Jax watched her go in the mirror, applying some mascara and lipstick before pulling her long hair into a sleek ponytail at the nape of her neck.
A self-defense class.
Go thank the gardener.
She pulled her jewelry box from the corner cabinet and sat down at the vanity table, choosing three gold bangles and some oversized gold hoop earrings.
Go thank the gardener.
A self-defense class.
The ideas rolled around in her head as she finished getting ready and went downstairs, grabbing her sandals from where they dangled on Mad’s fingers and following her sister out the front door to walk over to Haverford Park.
***
Gardener used to wake up at dawn, take a long jog around his South Philly neighborhood, shower, shave, dress, and head to work by eight, ready to take on the criminal element of Philadelphia and save the day. But since the accident and his forced retirement, he didn’t have a good reason to wake up early anymore. Jogging outdoors wasn’t an option with his compromised vision, and he couldn’t exactly save the day by planting flowers and mulching rose gardens. Plus, the morning and early-afternoon light was almost unbearably bright for his eyes. So he really didn’t wake up until after noon these days, and most of the time his day didn’t really begin until three.
Part of him was grateful that he’d learned the nitty-gritty of gardening from his father, owner of the most sought-after landscaping company in New Orleans, where Gard was born and raised. Without a secondary skillset, he’d have been fucked, because his career as a detective had ended in the blink of an eye, no pun intended. Not that he really needed to work for the money. He had savings, plus his retirement pay was more than comfortable, especially since he’d been injured in the line of duty and been awarded a settlement in a civil case as well. But not working, he’d quickly learned, made him feel like shit, and since his chosen career path was now impossible, it was up to him to figure out an alternative. And while working as a temporary live-in gardener for a fancy house like Haverford Park wasn’t where he’d envisioned his life at thirty-two years old, he also wasn’t interested in running home to New Orleans, where his mama would take over his life with gusto. Merci, non.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and took it out on the tiny porch, resting one hand on the railing as he looked out over the hazy, fuzzy green of the estate lawn, which sprawled out in front of him and to his right. Nothing he saw had any definition. A watercolor-like puddle of blueish-white was the sky. Some undefined dark brown laying over the green could be tree trunks, he guessed. Something moved in the distance, and he cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. Dark on top. Light on the bottom. Getting larger. Coming closer.
This was the part he hated the most. He knew it was a person, and by now, they