Jonquils for Jax (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #1) - Katy Regnery Page 0,50
highway,” she gasped, darting him a wide-eyed look.
“I don’t care.”
“You’re distracting me,” she said, shaking her head, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
“Good.” Except, also…not good. She was driving, and he’d never forgive himself if he was teasing her and she got into an accident. He placed her hand back on the steering wheel and sat back in his seat. “We should talk about your script.”
“Good. Yes. What did you think?” she asked, her voice tentative.
“It has a lot of promise.”
“You think?”
“Absolutely.”
“You liked it?”
“Yes, I did. I think the premise is solid. I know a ton of third-generation cops, and a lot of them are Irish. The twist of her showin’ up for work the first day and bein’ asked to go undercover is great. How’s she goin’ to sidestep turnin’ tricks? How’s she goin’ to get the girls and johns to trust her? How’s she goin’ to stay safe? Great questions. And her father was a department chief back in the day. Fantastic. He’s goin’ to have real mixed feelin’s about the way she’s doin’ her job. Not to mention her boyfriend’s a firefighter. He’s goin’ to be real pleased to find out what his woman’s doin’ every day…or night. There’s a lot goin’ on. It’s good, Jax. Real good.”
“So you think I should pursue it?”
He shrugged. “I mean, I’m an ex-cop turned part-time gardener, so what do I know about Hollywood and TV? But yeah, I was certainly entertained.”
“You’re…what? Thirty?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Thirty-two-year-old college-educated male. Gard, you’re our target market. If you’re entertained, that means something to me.”
“Tricky filmin’ it out there,” he said, referring to California and purposely reminding himself that she’d be going back to Hollywood someday to make her TV show and he’d be left behind. It hurt to think about it, but he needed to be realistic about their time together.
“On the streets?” she asked. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll need to have the production staff look into permits and all. But a lot of the filming would take place at night, I’m thinking. Probably easier to get it approved.”
“You’ll have to be careful with the sets. You know, to keep it authentic.”
She nodded, flicking a grin at him. “Maybe we can take a field trip to some of the more authentic neighborhoods? You know, a little scouting trip? For inspiration?”
Those emeralds sparkled as she glanced over at him, an excited smile brightening her beautiful face. He felt it deep inside, in that place where sacred things are realized, that he’d do just about anything to see her shine.
“Whatever you want, Duchess,” he said.
For as long as I’ve got you…anything you want.
***
Tucked protectively into Gard’s side, with his arm around her shoulders, Jax watched his one-time coworkers rally around him, telling stories about his time on the force. They’d been at Club7 for an hour, and though he’d made good on the promise to buy her a cold beer or two, they still hadn’t managed to sit down at a table. Every time they moved an inch toward the dining room, it seemed liked five more guys appeared, all wanting to buy Gard drinks, tell him how good he was looking, and gab about the old days.
Being Jax Rousseau in Hollywood had nothing on being Gardener Thibodeaux at Club7. That was for sure.
It seemed he was universally liked and respected, with cops and detectives from all units of the police department swinging by the gleaming mahogany bar to buy him a drink and welcome him back to the fold.
“Where you been, Gard?” asked Johnny Sanders, whom Gard had introduced to her a moment before.
Johnny’s partner, Phil, chimed in. “Gil and Gard. Gard and Gil. Hear about you two all the time. You were a couple of badass motherfuckers.”
“Hey,” said Gard, squeezing Jax’s shoulder. “Lady present, huh?”
“Yeah, right. Sorry, miss.” The young redhead took a second look at Jax and grinned. “What the heck you doing with this old-timer anyway?”
“Old-timer!” whooped Frankie D., whom Gard had introduced as a fellow detective. Frankie elbowed the gray-haired man, Saul, who stood beside him. “You hear that, Saulie? Gard’s an old-timer. Guess we’ve got one foot in the grave!”
“Know what I miss about Gard?” asked Saul, winking at Jax.
“No,” she said, “but I’d love to know.”
“Come on, Frankie. You know what I’m about to say!”
Frankie nodded, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “GUMBO NIGHT!”
All four men laughed, raising their beer glasses to toast.
“To gumbo,” said Saul. “May it pass through our lips again!”