Jonquils for Jax (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #1) - Katy Regnery Page 0,41
Abita.”
Her lips twitched. “You want me to pay you in beer?”
And your company. It was on the tip of his tongue to say it, but at the last second, he simply nodded instead.
She shrugged, and a grin brightening her face. “I guess…friends do that sometimes?”
This time he nodded eagerly, his own smile sneaking out to join hers. “From what I hear, there aren’t many rules between friends.”
She chuckled at their inside joke. “Okay, then. Abita it is. I’ll…head into town and grab some more.”
“Come over tomorrow night?” he asked.
“Sure. I’ll—oh, no. I can’t tomorrow. I have plans.”
Plans. Shit. Plans. The word fell like a brick tied around his heart. With whom? he wanted to ask—wanted to demand—but it was none of his business.
“Then whenever,” he said dismissively, feeling stupid as he searched her eyes for clues about her mystery plans. Her emeralds sparkled ever so slightly, like she knew something funny that he didn’t, and it made him scowl. “Let’s…get started.”
“With my siblings,” she said gently, her shoulders shaking with giggles. “My brothers and sister. Family dinner. Thursday nights.”
“Oh,” he said, relief coursing through his veins like a tonic. “Oh. Good.”
Her giggles stopped. Her eyes darkened.
“Anything else before we—?”
“Yeah. One more thing. It wasn’t a blip, Duchess.” He took a step closer to her. “It wasn’t just a kiss. I don’t know exactly what it was yet…but it wasn’t nothin’.”
He shrugged, leaving his thoughts there between them for her to accept or reject and hoping like hell for the former. She flinched for just a moment as if she pricked her finger on a needle, then offered him a wobbly smile.
“Good,” she whispered. Her eyes were wide and warm, staring up at him with something that felt peculiarly like…open road.
He lifted his hand and placed his palm flush against the side of her throat and her eyelids fluttered closed. She leaned toward him, her body a breath away from his. And Lord, how he wanted to kiss her again, but if he did, he wouldn’t end up teaching her a goddamned thing. And the thing is, he wanted her to learn. He needed to teach her how to protect herself so she’d be safe from assholes like Tripp.
“Today’s lesson is about…the throat.”
“The throat?” she squeaked, her eyes popping open.
“Oui. The throat,” he said, his lips trembling as he tried not to smile at her.
“Tease,” she muttered, frowning.
“You should know that want and should are having an epic battle in my head right now.”
“Who’s winning?” she asked.
“I should teach you how to protect yourself, cher.”
Cher. Pronounced the Cajun “sha,” the way his father said it to his mother so long ago. He didn’t know where it had come from, but it sounded nice. It sounded right.
Her eyes softened for a moment, but then she took a deep breath and nodded. Her face sobered as she straightened her body away from his. “The throat. Let’s go.”
For the next hour, he taught her how to protect herself should she ever be grabbed from behind with a forearm under her throat. She practiced leaning her head forward as far as it would go, then using torque to slingshot it back and break her assailant’s nose with the back of her head. He also taught her how to break free of a front chokehold by grabbing her assailant’s wrists to pull him in close, then raising her knee to slam it into his balls. Except Jax, who was incredibly focused on the lesson, moved a bit too quick for him the third time around, proving that she’d perfected the move.
“Fuck!” he yelled, releasing his light grip on her throat and stumbling back as the pain of her assault shot through his groin, stealing his breath as his eyes filled with tears. It had been a long time since he’d taken a shot to the nuts, but glory Lord, it didn’t hurt any less than he remembered.
“Oh my God!” she gasped. “Gard! Oh no! I’m so sorry!”
He put his hands on his knees and bent over, trying to catch his breath as lightning bolts of pain streaked through his entire pelvic region.
“I didn’t mean to…”
“Good j-job,” he wheezed.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He looked up at her and slowly straightened, wincing from a fresh jolt of nausea. Shuffling to a chair by the door, he sat down gingerly with only the very back of one ass cheek resting on the seat.
“Do you need ice?” she asked, standing in front of him, wringing her hands together.