Southern Fried Blues (The Officers' Ex-Wives Club) by Farrell Jamie

Author:Farrell, Jamie [Farrell, Jamie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Jamie Farrell
Published: 2013-08-29T00:00:00+00:00

ANNA WAS A MESS. Her temple throbbed, she was beyond embarrassed, and she’d run through at least three cycles of being furious with Neil, then furious with herself, and then back to furious with Neil.

All this Southern gentility had gone to her head. In retrospect, it was clear she should’ve asked him to step outside before dinner, racked him, and dumped him in the bathroom for a janitor to find.

Much less messy.

And on top of it all, she was afraid Jackson had stuck around only because his momma would’ve had his hide if she had heard he abandoned a lady in distress.

She obviously wouldn’t be stripping him out of anything tonight.

There went her fury again.

Jackson returned to his seat beside her. If he noticed she’d moved from sorting the rainbow mints to lining up the random wedding-shaped silver confetti sprinkled around the candle centerpieces, he didn’t comment. He plunked another cake plate in front of her, this one with actual cake on it. Three ketchup packets too. “Kaci’s orders,” he said. “She threatened to tell my momma some very uncomplimentary stories if I didn’t bring it over for you.”

Anna managed a small smile. “Thank you.”

“I’m right proud of you, Anna Grace. Using your manners and everything.” The sparkle in his eyes wasn’t as bright, and he couldn’t seem to look away from the spot on her temple that was currently throbbing. “Sure you don’t want anything for that?”

She shook her head. The motion sent a stabbing sensation through her brain. “I’ll take something when I get home.”

So much for her overnight bag.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed. His shoulders shifted back.

Man-mode. Southern gentleman mode. She stifled a sigh and squeezed her eyes shut.

“My daddy died in a car accident,” he said. “I’d rather you didn’t drive tonight.”

Oh.

Vulnerable wouldn’t have made her top-fifty list of things she knew about Jackson, but it was etched across his face clear as a Minnesota winter sky. She touched a shaky hand to his cheek. “You’re a good man.”

“Not always.” He pulled her fingers to his lips for a gentle kiss, then tucked her hand back down onto the table.

Right. Moment over. Because they weren’t about moments.

They had an expiration date. Not that it mattered if they never started something.

“I’ll get a room here tonight,” she said.

He blew out a heavy breath. His lips thinned and he tucked his hands under his arms.

Anna fought the smile, but it felt too good that she wanted to smile, so she gave up and let it through. “Does your momma know you cuss like that in your head?”

“Eat your cake and take your ketchup.”

It wasn’t pie, but The Harrington made a mean cake. The cake part was as fluffy as cotton candy, but not nearly as sweet, which balanced nicely with the berry filling and buttercream frosting. It made the ketchup shots unnecessary. She was licking the last of the frosting off her fork when she saw one of the older bridesmaids making eyes at Jackson.

He didn’t seem to notice, but she suspected he didn’t miss much.

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