Jade's Spirit (Blue Collar Boyfriends Book 2) Read online

  “Come, darling.” Draonius insinuated his body against hers. “You know I did not mean you harm. I love you.” He stroked her face.

  She nestled her cheek into his hand. “I love you, too. Of course I forgive you.”

  “Will you let me show you how gentle I can be?”

  “Yes, Draonius. Oh, yes.”

  * * * *

  Jade startled awake with a thundering heart. Vague remnants of a disturbing dream slipped away like sand through a sieve. From the wetness in her panties and the rubbery exhaustion in her limbs she knew it had been another sex dream, but she didn’t remember who had starred in it. And she had a chilling feeling she had tried to wake from the dream and hadn’t been able to.

  She hugged herself under the covers. She felt violated, which was silly because it had only been a dream. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling it had been somehow more than a bad dream.

  Her fingers itched to grab her phone and call Emmett. Just hearing his voice would reassure her. Then she remembered the disappointing end to their date. Hurt and anger rushed into her heart, plowing out the disquiet from the dream.

  Refusing to let a stupid nightmare and a bad date dictate her mood, she threw herself into her Saturday, starting with a good, hard run around her new neighborhood. She filled the rest of the day with housework, a lunchtime visit to Grandma Nina, and a long phone call with Jilly in which she determinedly avoided the subject of Emmett Herald.

  When it was time for bed, she grabbed the afghan off the back of the couch, marched outside, right under the sachet of herbs above the front door, and climbed into the backseat of her Jetta. She slept like a baby, assuming babies sleep for eight solid hours without a single dream.

  Chapter 11

  “Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you,” Pastor Tim was saying, but Emmett wasn’t paying attention. He was thinking about his date with Jade on Friday night.

  She’d looked incredible, and she’d danced even better. He’d been so proud to walk into Billy Bob’s with her on his arm. But more than that, he’d simply enjoyed being with her. The girl had a great sense of humor and was all kinds of fun to hang out with. There was a depth to her, too, that he longed to explore.

  But he didn’t trust himself with her. He was like a landmine ready to detonate, and the sexy Boston beauty was like a whole platoon of marching soldiers.

  Though to be fair, at this point, almost any girl who showed an interest in him was likely to set off an Emmett-explosion. When he and Chelsea had called it quits, he’d been kind of relieved, because it was getting nearly unbearable to hold back with her. There was only so much making out he could take before his balls felt like they were going to rocket to the moon with or without him. He’d tried taking a step back with Chelsea, letting her know they needed to take it easy with the physical stuff. That’s when she’d told him they needed to go forward, as in ’til-death-do-us-part, or she’d walk. He’d hoped she’d been bluffing. She hadn’t been.

  The worst of it was, Chelsea’s ultimatum hadn’t been unreasonable. They had everything in common. They went to the same church, lived in the same town, listened to the same music. She would have been happy to marry him and raise kids in Dover. And maybe if he had loved her just a little more, he’d have been happy to make a life with her. But what he’d felt for Chelsea hadn’t been enough to move him past his fear of divorce.

  When he looked at him and Chelsea toward the end of their relationship, he’d seen his parents when they’d been in exactly the same spot, longtime sweethearts with families that were practically neighbors in Dover. They’d gotten married and had everything going for them. They’d had two kids, steady jobs, a loving church family, the whole American dream. And in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

  He was starting to worry no amount of chemistry and circumstances would ever be enough. How did any two people take marriage vows and believe in what they promised each other when no one knew the future?

  He couldn’t see himself ever taking marriage vows. And it scared him so bad he tried not to think about it, because if he never got married, he would never know what it was like to show a woman physical love. He would never know what it was like to press inside a girl he adored, to feel her grab his shoulders and buck like a wild pony while he rode her to orgasm after orgasm.

  Aw, crap. He had a boner in church.

  And he’d just totally lost himself in a fantasy while Pastor Tim preached about restraint.

  Anytime he let himself daydream about finally being with a woman, she was always this faceless body with soft, tan skin, breasts that overflowed in his hands, and long, toned legs wrapped around his waist. He’d tried forcing faces onto that body over the years, but he just couldn’t picture any of the girls he’d dated in that way. He’d thought it was because he respected them too much to give them starring roles in his fantasies. What did it say about him that he’d just seen his fantasy woman’s face for the first time, and that she was Jade?

  She deserved better than some perv ravishing her in his mind. That was exactly why he needed to keep his distance from her.

  People stood up around him. The piano played the opening of “I Surrender All.” He didn’t need to open the hymnal. He knew the words. All four verses. But he held the book anyway because if he rested it on the back of the pew in front of him, it hid his erection.

  He sang along and tried to focus on making the words a prayer.

  All to Jesus, I surrender

  All to Him I freely give…

  …All to Jesus I surrender

  Humbly at His feet I bow

  Worldly pleasures all forsaken

  Take me, Jesus, take me now

  Funny thing about prayer. It shined a light on the heart. And that light usually revealed some dark spot that needed to be dealt with.

  He realized he was being selfish. Here he was obsessing about his own problems from his comfortable pew at Dover’s First Methodist Church and less than a mile away, Jade was at her grandmother’s house on Little Turnpike Road, alone in a new town and probably needing the Lord.

  She’d seemed willing to come to church with him, but, he never followed through. He was more worried about the mincemeat he might let her make of his virginity vow than the state of her soul.

  What kind of Christian let his own fear keep him from showing his neighbor the Lord’s love? If Jade died without knowing the Lord and he had ignored the opportunity to share Him with her, then her fate would be on his head.

  …All to Jesus, I surrender

  Lord, I give myself to Thee

  Fill me with Thy love and power

  Let Thy blessing fall on me

  After church, he climbed in the cab of his truck and dialed Jade’s number. Maybe she would go to church with him next Sunday.

  The phone rang twice. On the third ring, she answered with, “How was church? Did you sit with Chelsea, Erin, and Mara?”

  He was in the doghouse.

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and turned on the AC. Across the parking lot, two of the girls in question, Chelsea and Erin, were getting into Chelsea’s Toyota—Mara went to the Presbyterian church up in Londonderry. He returned Chelsea’s wave, wondering what had Jade so upset.

  “Hey, Jade. How you doing?” He decided to start fresh and see if he couldn’t at least be friends with her.

  Her tone was pure ice. “I see I’m not the only one good at avoiding things. Don’t change the subject. Tell me how church was. I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t pick me up this morning.”

  “Aw, Jeez. I’m sorry. You weren’t waiting for me, were you?” He was such a turd.

  She sighed. “No. I knew better than to expect it. But I’m pissed at you for reneging on the invitation. And what was with the sudden space on Friday night? I thought we were having a good time, and then you just— You know what, whatever.”

  She sounded like she was about to hang up on him. He blurted, “Come out to lunch with me. I’ll pick you
up in five minutes.”

  “A second date with the schitzo who runs hot one second and cold the next? Let me think. Ah, no.”

  He winced. “We could go as friends.”

  “Fuck you, Emmett. I’ve got enough friends.” She hung up.

  He thunked his head on the headrest. Jade was on his mind 24/7, and not because he wanted her as a friend. He’d definitely had more than friendship on his mind Friday night, and she’d known it.

  He should swing by her place, try to talk to her in person. Maybe in a few days. Girl needed some time to cool off. And he needed some time to figure out how to make this right.

  Chapter 12

  Soft knocking woke Jade up. Bright daylight had her blinking furiously as she looked for the source of the sound. She was used to waking up bathed in either harsh sunlight or the softer gray light of overcast skies since she’d slept in her car the last three nights, but she wasn’t used to anyone catching her in her cowardice. When she saw Emmett peering through the back-seat window, all concerned eyes and frowning mouth, she pulled the afghan over her mortified face. Maybe he’d take the hint and go away.

  Another rap of knuckles on glass. “Jade? Why are you sleeping in your car?” His voice was muffled but audible.

  There was no graceful way out of this one. She clambered out of the car wrapped in the afghan. “Spider?”

  “That must be some spider.” He was dressed in work boots, jeans, and another one of his long-sleeved, pec-hugging Henleys. The sleeves were pushed up over his forearms. He looked as scrumptious as when she’d first met him and it didn’t improve her mood one bit.

  “What are you doing here at—” She pulled her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket and checked the time. “Eight fifteen in the morning? Come to think of it, what are you doing here at all? What part of ‘fuck you’ didn’t you understand?” It was hard to look tough wrapped in purple and orange yarn, but she thrust out her chin and arched one eyebrow in her best Beantown bitch pose.

  With an infuriating twinkle in his eyes, he cleared his throat and nodded down the sidewalk.

  Her annoyed, sleep-fogged brain registered the enormous street sweeper looming behind her Jetta. Oh, duh. It was Tuesday, his day to sweep Little Turnpike.

  And like a complete loser, she’d left her car on the curb again. Embarrassment heated her cheeks. She avoided his eyes, but with him standing so close, her only other options were to look at his tan, muscular neck or over his shoulder at the house. She chose the house, but the sight of the darkened window of her turret bedroom made her shiver.

  Emmett closed the distance between them and cupped his hand around her shoulder. “You okay?”

  It was tempting to be comforted by his touch, but she didn’t make the mistake of thinking he meant it romantically. He didn’t like her in that way. He wanted to be “friends.”

  The pain of his rejection stung afresh. She shrugged his hand off and stepped out of reach. “’Course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  His hand fell to his side. “Um, you were sleeping in your car. What’s going on?”

  What could she say? There’s a ghost-shadow guy in the house, and I had a scary dream that might have been real, so now I’m too chickenshit to sleep in my own room? No way was she going to tell him that. Besides, she didn’t owe him an explanation. Emmett Herald was nothing to her. He was worse than nothing. He was—dammit, why did he have to smell so good?

  She huffed and strode to the sun porch, tossing her keys over her shoulder. “Move the car yourself. I need coffee.” She had to get away from him quick, before the concern on his face made her forgot how pissed she still was.

  She heard him snag the keys out of the air. Then his boot steps pounded up the walk behind her.

  “Hey.” He snagged the afghan as she pushed her front door open.

  She glared at his hand until he let go, then strode inside.

  He followed without an invitation.

  So much for the perfect gentleman act. She wheeled around to tell him to get lost, but the look on his face stopped her.

  There were faint lines at the corners of his eyes. His lips were pressed in a hard line. He looked like he’d been beating himself up about something since, oh, say, Sunday. There was also a worried tilt to his dark blond eyebrows. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong,” he said.

  “Who says anything’s wrong? Can’t a girl catch a little catnap in her back seat?”

  “I want to hear about that, too, but I’m also talking about this.” He motioned between them. “What is this? Why are you so mad at me? Is this about me not taking you to church?”

  If they were going to have this talk, she so needed coffee. She draped the afghan over the banister and headed to the kitchen, resenting the thrill she got from the padding sounds of Emmett following her.

  He leaned in the kitchen doorway as she filled the coffee maker with water and fished a filter out of the cabinet. As soon as the coffee was going, she plopped into a chair at the table, strategically choosing the one farthest away from Emmett and his pine-and-leather scented aftershave.

  He stood with his eyebrows raised expectantly and his mouth curved into a patient smile, inviting her deepest secrets. He was wasting his talents running a lawn care business. With that expression, he should have been a priest.

  But honest confession wasn’t her style.

  She was a runner. Run from trouble. Run from pain. Run.

  On the other hand, running was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She’d run from Brad and ended up with her heart squished under Emmett’s boot heel. She’d run from Boston and ended up in a freaking haunted house.

  Facing things head-on had worked the other night when she’d told Brad off. And it had kind of worked with Mr. Shadow. She hadn’t seen him since he’d disappeared into her basement, except for that mirror incident. But he hadn’t been scary then. He’d startled her, for sure, but in hindsight, he’d seemed so…nonthreatening. If she could just figure out how to face her unwanted dreams head on, she would be golden.

  Remembering how her will had been smothered in her dream made her shiver. She wished she had Grandma Nina’s afghan around her shoulders again.

  “Jeez, you look pale,” Emmett said as he pulled out the chair beside hers and sat down. He leaned forward with his brows drawn together. “Seriously, what’s going on?” He put his hand on her knee under the table.

  She shoved it off. “You don’t have to act all concerned for me. We’re just friends, remember.”

  His eyes flashed with affront. Then anger. “My friends are hurting, I’m there for them. Let me be there for you. Whatever’s got you wigged, let me help.”

  She snorted. “I’m sure Chelsea, Mara, and Erin positively jump at the chance to let you shove your nose into their business, but I’m not one of your Christian gal pals. I can take care of myself.”

  “What’s your problem with those girls? They’re good people.”

  “And I’m not. I get it. No need to rub it in.” She pushed away from the table and stomped to the coffee pot to pour a cup. She took a scalding sip to calm her temper. It didn’t work. Plus, she hated the taste of black coffee. Damn it. Emmett made her lose her cool in a big way. She yanked open the fridge to fish out her flavored creamer. She knew from the scrape of chair legs on linoleum he’d stood up, but she refused to look at him.

  “I didn’t say that. For crying out loud, Jade—”

  “No. You don’t get to talk yet. I’m not done.” She dumped creamer in her coffee and took a big swallow. That was better. Coffee helped her think. The caffeine and sugar rush bolstered her courage. She was ready to face the pain he’d made her feel. She would do it for herself. She would do it for womankind. No more running.

  After taking a moment to calm down and find her inside voice, she said, “Look, I know you probably don’t have many exotic dancers here in Dover, so I don’t blame you for being freaked. But did you have to shut me out like that afte
r you figured it out?” She snapped her fingers for emphasis. “It shouldn’t matter, but it did. It hurt when you judged me. And then it’s like you were too embarrassed to bring me to church, like you didn’t want your friends to see you hanging with the new town slut. There, I said it. Now it’s out in the open. Now you can take your self-righteous attitude and get lost.” She buried her face in her mug while waving him off with her free hand.

  He didn’t budge. He blinked. Then his face screwed up. “You’re an exotic dancer? As in a stripper?”

  Oh, shit. That wasn’t why he’d gone all distant Friday night?

  If he had blown her off for some other reason before, she sure didn’t want to see the look on his face now that her big bad secret was out. Her body tensed to run, but there was nowhere to go. Emmett was blocking the door out of the kitchen. She could run out the sliding glass door to the back yard, but that would just be stupid. With no reasonable escape open to her, she simply turned her back on him.

  His arms came around her from behind. He plucked the mug from her hands and set it on the counter. Then he rocked her gently, resting his chin on her shoulder. Emmett’s tenderness was like a defibrillator jolt to her emotional center. It reset everything, killed the anger, made her soft when she wanted to be hard.

  Damn it. She was blinking like a broken turn signal, trying not to cry. By holding her, Emmett proved he wasn’t judging her. He was being a friend in the truest sense of the word.

  She’d lied the other day on the phone. She didn’t have enough friends. She had more than enough room for one more.

  Maybe she was out of her mind, but she turned in his embrace to thank him for being so nice and to accept his offer of friendship. But the words never made it out.

  Emmett lowered his face to hers and kissed her.

  His lips were warm and soft, gentle yet insistent, shockingly accepting.

  This was how their date should have ended Friday night. Just like this.

  But they were just friends now. So what was he doing? She tucked her chin and pushed on his chest. “You kiss all your friends like that?”