Jonquils for Jax: The Rousseaus #1 (The Blueberry Lane Series Book 12) (16 page)

“Was it…for you?” she asked softly.

“Beautiful?” He answered his own question without hesitation: “
Oui
.”

“Have you…I mean, have you been with a lot of women, Gard?”

He leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck. “That I cared about? No,
cher
. Not many. You?”

“I’ve never been with a woman,” she said, with just a hint of sass in her voice. Then she added, “No. I haven’t been with a lot of men.”

“How’d you keep them all away?”

She turned in his arms, lying on her back, looking up into his eyes. “I said no.”

He brushed his thumb over her nipple, and she gasped softly.

“Why’d you say yes to me?”

Her eyes were soft and tender as they searched his. “Because this feels right.”

“Yes, Duchess,” he said, leaning down to brush her lips with his, “it does.”

Her smile was blinding as she reached up to swipe any remaining tears away. Then suddenly she sat up, reaching for her bra and slipping her arms through the straps. “I’m dying for a swim. You?”

I’m dying to lie here until we start round two
, he thought, but he grinned at her instead. “I guess I could use one.” He sat up, leaning back on his hands, watching her as she adjusted her breasts into the cups of the bra and fastened it in the back. “I miss having a pool.”

“Did you have one in your apartment building? In Philly?”

“No. At home. When I was a kid.”

She nodded, her eyes narrowing just slightly as she stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Private schools, nannies, and swimming pools. What kind of gardener was your dad anyway?”

“A good one,” he said, jumping up beside her and gesturing to the door. “Lead the way.”

She gave him a look that said she wanted to ask more, but instead she turned and headed through the door that led to the hallway. He grabbed his duffel bag from the floor and followed, his thoughts turning organically to his parents.

When his parents met, his mother was a runner-up at the 1979 Miss New Orleans pageant, and his father had just secured a deal that would change his fledgling business, Thibodeaux Gardening Service, into a company that would eventually become the largest and most high-end landscape design company in southeastern Louisiana, Thibodeaux Landscapers, LLC. So yes, he and his sisters had grown up in a mansion and attended private school…but that didn’t change the fact that his father had grown up on a small Cajun farm located on the banks of the Bayou Teche in Breaux Bridge, the heart of Cajun country. Didn’t change the fact that his father’s strong country accent would always be a barrier between him and the New Orleans elite. Didn’t change the fact that some of the old-money kids at his school had whispered “swamp Cajun” under their breath whenever he was within earshot, even though Gard’s mother’s pedigree was better than some of theirs.

It was an early lesson that money couldn’t buy you everything. It made life nicer and more comfortable, but it didn’t change the fact that his father was a Thibodeaux from the bayou, even if his mother’s maiden name was Heard. It couldn’t buy you acceptance, and it certainly couldn’t buy you happiness—it was up to you to find, make, or pursue it yourself.

Jax slid open the sliding glass door to the pool deck, and he followed her outside into the soupy late-afternoon heat.

“You’d think,” he said, “that growin’ up in Louisiana would’ve given me a high tolerance for humidity.”

She stopped at a lounge chair and turned to face him. “No?”

He shook his head. “No. I hate it as much as I ever did. But it’s not half as bad up here.”

He watched, his expression ravenous, as she shimmied out of the black Lycra workout pants she’d been wearing, revealing black-and-blue boy shorts that matched her sports bra. She was all tan skin and long legs. Tan skin that still tasted sweet and salty on his tongue…long legs that had been wrapped around his waist fifteen minutes ago.

“Damnnnn, Jax.”

She grinned. “Yeah?”

He shook his head and sighed. “Where can I change?”

“Wherever you want,” she said, running over to the pool and jumping in.

Well,
merde
. He didn’t know where a dressing room was, and she knew it. Left with little alternative, he turned around and, before he could think better of it, pulled down his pants, offering her a fine view of his ass as he leaned down to unzip his duffel bag and pull out some swim trunks. From behind him, he heard her hoot with appreciative laughter, which made him chuckle softly. Looking over his shoulder, all he could see was some blurry gray slate and a large blob of aqua, but he asked into the void, “Like the view?”

“Can’t think of a better one!” came her voice.

He pulled up his swimsuit, then turned around. “Show’s over.”

“That’s sad,” she said.

“If you’re lucky, there might be an encore later.”

He heard her clap and giggle.

“Jax?” he asked.

“Huh?”

His insecurities kicked in. He could either ask her what was between them…or take the chance of bumping into something and tripping while making his way to her…or—

“There’s nothing between you and me,” she said. “Run for it!”

And that’s when it happened.

That was the moment.

His heart burst with love for her, and he ran across the hot slate and jumped.

***

Three hours later, they sat across from each other at a table on the pool deck, a steamy pot of gumbo between them, their bowls licked clean.

“That was soooo good,” said Jax, holding a glass of wine in her hands and finding his bare feet under the table.

He’d sat on the kitchen counter instructing her on how to make his tantsy’s gumbo while she did the work, occasionally stopping to give him a kiss or brush up against him. She browned the chicken and sausage in butter and oil, then put them in a stew pot. For the first time ever, she made a roux from the drippings mixed with flour. Under his supervision, she chopped the onions, garlic, peppers, celery, tomatoes, and okra, then placed it all in the pot with a splash of Worcester sauce.

“That’s it?” she’d asked, feeling delighted as she set the timer for two hours. “That’s easy!”

They’d headed back outside to the pool, where they’d laid dow
n
side by sid
e
on lounge chairs, holding hands and saying little as they baked in the sun, then cooled off again in the pool. He’d grabbed her and held her, kissing her wet lips, his fingers threaded through her soaked hair. And Jax had wrapped her legs around his body, feeling the hardness of his erection through his bathing suit as they kissed, loving this time together.

Loving.

Loving.

The word had flitted so effortlessly into her head, but it had also made her pause.

Is that what this was? The beginning of love? Is this how it started? Two people who’d grown up in two different parts of the world, crashed into each other on a dark night, and somehow recognized some potential—some fragile, magical possibility in each other’s eyes, in one another’s company.
Love.
Was she falling in love with Gardener Thibodeaux? Because in twenty-seven years, she’d never felt this way before, and it was frightening and exhilarating, and the thought of ruining it or losing it was a constant and growing ache.

“So you liked t’gumbo?” he asked, grinning at her as he took another sip of the decadent 2012 Montepulciano that she’d discovered in the small wine cellar located in the basement of Le Chateau.

She nodded. “It was delicious.”

“Next time I’ll bring French bread to sop it up.”

“Sopping” one’s food wasn’t something that Jax had grown up doing, but she couldn’t wait to try it. “Deal.”

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure,” she said, picking up her glass and taking a sip.

“How long you plannin’ to stay here? I mean, I assume you’re headed back to Hollywood at some point, but…”

Jax took a deep breath, unprepared for the way the question stung. She had decided to stay in Philly, and suddenly it felt weird to share that. She didn’t want to think of their relationship as temporary, and it hurt her a little that he did. “I’m not sure what my plans are.”

He’d been sitting back in his chair, but now he leaned forward. “Just so we’re clear…no matter how long you’re here, I want to spend as much time with you as I can.”

“Oh.” Her clenched heart relaxed, and tears of relief pricked her eyes. “I want that too.”

“You still have a place out there?”

She shook her head. “No.” Pausing, she looked behind her, at the yellow stone of Le Chateau, feeling miserable even
talking
about leaving. “Lately, I’ve been thinking…”

“What?”

Could she trust him with her wishes? With her longings and hopes?

“Well, I’ve been thinking about buying
this
place.”

“
Buyin’
it? Doesn’t your family already
own
it?”

“Not exactly. My
mother
owns it. And she doesn’t like it. And despite her…
funds
, she lives a very expensive life in Paris. Selling Le Chateau would support her spending habits.”

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes holding hers intently. “You’re afraid she’ll sell it?”

She took a gulp of wine, swallowing it over the sudden lump in her throat, and nodded. “Yes.”

“Duchess, it’s a big house—”

“—for one small girl. I know. My sister said that too.”

She watched as he squinted, looking around the pool area. Not that he could see the details of the landscaping, but she knew it would be expensive to maintain. Not to mention the house itself was a massive mansion, enough for a family of six or eight, and the taxes,
merde
—His eyes focused back on hers.

“It’s a big decision.”

“I see your mind spinning,” she said softly. “It’s a ridiculous thought.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” he said quickly. “But it’s an awful lot to take on.”

“I’d have to hire someone,” she said, “to look after it for me, I guess.”

“A
team
of someones,” said Gard. “House, grounds, pool, pool house…”

Her heart clutched as she placed her wine glass back on the table. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

“Jax,” he said gently, and when she looked up at him, his face was blurry from the tears in her eyes. “Anythin’s possible if you want it bad enough.”

She swallowed, forcing a grin as she nodded. “Sure.”

“If you have the money, you can—”

“How about one more swim?” she asked, standing up and unwrapping the towel around her waist. She brushed at her eyes as she ran over to the pool and jumped in, the cool water like heaven on her hot face.

He was right. She hadn’t really thought it through. It wasn’t just about the money—she had the money…it was about the care and maintenance of an estate, hiring staff and paying taxes and insurance. In addition, she still hadn’t figured out if it was possible to shoot
Philadelphia Vice
on location. If not, then what? She loved being a producer, and she wanted to produce another project. Would she
need
to return to LA to make that happen? Too many questions to sort through and no immediate answers made her feel helpless.

She heard a splash behind her, and suddenly Gard was holding her, pinning her arms to her sides as he pulled her back against his chest. His lips were close to her ear when he said, “Duchess. Don’t be sad. You’ll figure it out. If you want, I’ll help you figure it out.”

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, closing her eyes. “I never thought I’d get to twenty-seven and be so clueless about what happens next in my life. I hate feeling helpless.”

“You’re not, though,” he said gently. “You’re smart and capable, rich as Midas. I can see you gettin’ stronger and stronger every day,
cher
. Just decide what you want and make it happen.”

What if I want Le Chateau? What if I want to produce
Philadelphia Vice
here? So I can still see my siblings every Thursday? And be best friends with Daisy and Skye? What if each thing I want is a puzzle piece, but they belong to different puzzles, and I can’t figure out how to fit them all together? What if I lose the best things chasing after the wrong things? What if I just want to be with you?

She wrestled her arms free and turned in his arms to face him, giving him the abridged version. “What if I want my house and my show and…you?”

“Duchess,” he whispered, his eyes soft, a grin tipping his lips up. “Those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, searching his eyes for reassurance.

“I’m sure,” he whispered, leaning forward to touch his lips to hers in a gentle, loving kiss.

“Jaxy! Hey, Jaxy! Who’s the new man?”