Jonquils for Jax (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #1) - Katy Regnery Page 0,32
how that would look, he also knew that whether it was Jax Rousseau or someone else, he’d become a hermit if he didn’t open up a little to someone. He missed having friends to talk to, and if he didn’t see them anymore, he may as well talk to the pushy neighbor who wouldn’t leave him alone.
So he didn’t tell her to get lost.
But he did stall. He stood up and headed to the kitchen for another beer.
“Want another, Duchess?”
“Sure,” she said. When he turned around, she chugged the bottle in her hand, as though fulfilling a dare he hadn’t actually issued.
He handed her the cold, open bottle and sat back down across from her. “What do you want to know?”
She looked surprised for a moment, like she’d been expecting him to get all pissed off and throw her out, and a sweet little smile played at the delectable corners of her mouth. Lord, it would be easier to just make out and skip talking about deep things like life and the future.
“Really?”
He shrugged, taking a long sip and trying to look like it didn’t matter to him.
“Okay…,” she said, “you’re from New Orleans. How’d you end up in Philly?”
“I got a full scholarship to St. Joseph’s.”
Jax whistled low. “Wow. That’s great. For what?”
“Sports.” He chuckled softly. “Soccer, actually.”
“Soccer,” she said. She cocked her head to the side. “So why aren’t you watching the game?”
“’Cause I’m talkin’ to you, Duchess.”
A splash of pink appeared on her cheeks as he drawled this line slow and low, and he couldn’t help but admire his handiwork. He liked that he affected her. He liked it too goddamned much.
“So you come to Philly, you attend St. Joe’s, you study…?”
“Double major. English and criminal justice.”
“Of course. And play soccer.”
He nodded. “When I graduated, I decided to stay, so I—”
“Why?” she asked. “Why’d you stay? Why didn’t you go home to Nawlins?”
He had to hand it to her: her accent wasn’t half bad.
“Because of a girl,” he said, seeing no good reason to lie. She’d trusted him with her truth; the least he could do was trust her with his.
He leaned forward to grab his beer, and if he hadn’t looked up when he did, he would almost have missed it: the slight narrowing of her eyes and pursing of her lips. Jealousy. He’d stake his life on it. He grinned at her. “Don’t worry. Didn’t work out, Duchess.”
“I’m not worried,” she said, lifting her chin and wrinkling her nose.
The hell you’re not, he thought, feeling unaccountably pleased that he’d made her jealous.
“What happened?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What was her name?”
“Doesn’t—”
“—matter. Right.” She frowned at him but finally let it go. “So it didn’t work out with whatshername, but you…?”
“I was already livin’ here, already workin’ here. Movin’ up in the department. Had friends. So I stayed.”
“Didn’t you miss your family?”
“They have their own lives.”
She frowned. “Do you go home to visit?”
Gard took a deep breath and sighed. His father, Lord bless him, had passed away three years ago, leaving an aching place in Gard’s heart. He’d loved and admired his father, and they’d been good friends. Sure, he loved his mother and sisters, but he didn’t have the camaraderie with any of them that he’d had with his dad.
His mother was involved in her ladies’ card groups and charities. His sisters were both married with children. He hadn’t kept up with his high school friends, and besides, he’d been in a weird social place growing up: his father made enough money that they were considered wealthy, but Cadogan Thibodeaux made his money dirtying his hands with soil and mulch while most of the fathers of his peers in private Catholic school made their money in finance or law. Gard’s childhood home had been big and showy, putting off the working-class, scholarship kids, but he was new money, and his parents reeked of it, which had put off the upper-class kids, like Jax’s kind. He’d grown up in no man’s land. Moving to Philadelphia, where he could just be himself, had been a relief. There were things about New Orleans he’d always love, but going home permanently had never been part of his plan. And anyway, he felt his dad’s loss a hell of a lot more there than here.
Do you go home to visit?
“At Christmas.”
“You have friends at home?”
“Not really.”
“Here?”
He shrugged.
“Sort of a loner, huh?”
He considered this for a second. In high school, yes, he’d been somewhat of a loner for the reasons he’d already recalled, but that