Jonquils for Jax (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #1) - Katy Regnery Page 0,37

for it.

Without much else in the way of distraction, he’d had plenty of time to think about her over the last couple of days—Jacqueline Rousseau. Jax. The duchess. She was something, all right, with her black hair and green eyes, her tight little body and endless questions. He’d never met anyone quite like her.

He hadn’t dated much in high school, finding himself stuck in no man’s land between two distinct classes of Southern society that didn’t mix it up much. And for the first two years of college, he’d been quietly fascinated with Northern girls. Not that he didn’t know half a dozen Southern girls who could shotgun beers on the backs of their boyfriends’ tractors while mudding on a sunny afternoon, but Northern girls were different in their version of brashness. There was something he liked about their interrogation-style conversation, even though he was still getting used to it ten years later. The way Northern girls volunteered so much information about themselves took away a certain amount of feminine mystique and leveled the playing field between men and women in a way he liked, in a way that felt equitable to him. He also liked it that Northern girls seemed more comfortable in their own skin—unlike his mother and sisters, for example, who hit the beauty salon and nail place every Saturday morning like clockwork. In all the time he and Tiff were together, he only remembered her getting her nails done once in a while for special occasions.

Tiffany.

He’d been thinking about her a bit over the past two days too.

Paired up as lab partners junior year at St. Joe’s with a scorching personal chemistry that was immediately apparent, they’d wasted no time “getting to know each other,” making out the first day they met and essentially spending every waking moment together thereafter. It had been good too—for a while. He’d loved having someone to spend time with, someone to fall asleep next to him and wake up beside him in the morning. The summer break between junior and senior years was interminable, but their relationship was as strong as ever when they returned to SJU in the fall, picking up exactly where they’d left off in June. It was like he was built to be half of a couple, and he reveled in having her by his side.

After graduating, they’d both found jobs in Philly—Tiff as a paralegal at a law office, while Gard had applied to the Philadelphia Police Department. After passing several tests and examinations, he’d attended the training program and become a police officer 1.

During Gard’s year of probation, he’d been paired up with a seasoned cop, Brad Bender, who’d been on the force for eight years and had a wife and two kids. Little did Gard know that when Brad asked Gard to “man the grill” at weekend BBQs that included lots of guys from the force, Brad and Tiffany were meeting up inside the house for a quick fuck. Essentially, while Gard manned the grill, Brad manned Tiffany.

They eventually got so comfortable, and sloppy, they moved their extracurricular activities to Tiffany and Gard’s apartment and met there during their lunch breaks because it was closer to the precinct. One day, when Gard took an elbow to the face and was sent home early with a broken nose, he’d gotten a broken heart in the bargain too. He found Brad—his mentor, his partner, his friend, his brother—balls deep in Tiffany.

Crossing in front of Westerly, Gard ran a hand through his hair. That was six years ago, and in the time since, he’d fucked some but loved none. His one big foray into love had sucked, and whether it was a conscious decision or not, he’d steered clear of it since.

Which is why he’d decided that it was also better to steer clear of Jax Rousseau. Because that rush of intense feeling he’d felt for Tiffany in junior chemistry had come back in spades since he met Jax. She was beautiful and smart, and Lord but it felt good to be needed. He’d known in his gut—the first time he laid eyes on her—that the duchess could be no passing fancy used to scratch an itch or spice up the dog days of summer. Gard knew his heart. And with Jax Rousseau, it would eventually come down to all or nothing. And he’d just as soon avoid the all to sidestep the inevitable nothing.

Cruising through the hedgerow with ease, he turned left and followed the