Love Me: The Complete Series (33 page)

He and Carter had competed in almost everything since they were kids. Technically it started right after Carter’s sister died but he never brought up specific dates. Carter was strong and built like a college quarterback. He worked hard to stay fit and hated that Jackson’s natural athleticism often beat out his own work ethic. Jackson sidled up to his friend. “Have you looked at the map yet?”

Carter glinted into the sun above Jackson’s head. “No, why?”

Jackson unfolded the paper. “There are four trails. Each one is different and they’re classified by difficulty. Let’s take this one here and first one to the summit buys the other a beer.”

Carter glanced at the map. “You do realize that the drinks in the cooler are free and they have beer, water, and juices? Technically, we’re not buying anything.”

Jackson slapped Carter on the back. “Such a smart ass. Okay, then first one up to the summit and back wins. That means the first to reach that cooler full of drinks.”

Carter’s eyes flickered with interest. “What do I win?”

“Assuming you actually make it down first, you win … I don’t know. What about …”

Amanda twisted the cap off a water bottle with a click. “Skinny dipping in the river behind those trees while the rest of us cook and clean up.”

Gulp.
Jackson leaned into her ear and whispered, “Would that be with or without you?”

Her hair whipped his cheek as she stepped into a power walk. She glanced over her shoulder. “Without. This isn’t a team event. See you in my dust, Jax.”

Hmm. That idea backfired. Beating Carter would be easy; the guy never bested him at anything. Beating Amanda, though? He could do it but she might hate him even more.

Four more steps and she vanished into the trees. The image of Amanda skinny dipping stopped him dead for a couple of seconds. Long enough for Carter to dart past and disappear behind her. Oh, hell no. If anyone was going to be in that ice-cold, fish-infested water with—or just watching—Amanda, it wasn’t going to be Carter.

Jackson took off at a trot. It took him about five minutes to catch Carter. He yanked him by the neck and shoved him into the trees before focusing on the back pockets of Amanda’s shorts. Thank God she hadn’t seen his strong-arming. Carter rustled out of the undergrowth. “Hey, asshole. You’re dead meat.”

Jackson picked up his pace. Amanda was about fifteen yards ahead. Unfortunately, the path tilted upward. Her calves tightened and bulged as she stair-stepped up and over rocks. Jackson followed suit. Long legs were a distinct advantage when it came to rugged terrain. Within minutes, he was behind Amanda. He glanced upward at the rocks and pine needles, seeking a solid footing so he could make his move. He dug into the pebbled dirt with his toes and lunged forward.

A vise grip clamped around his ankle and killed his forward movement. What the hell? Jackson teetered and fell to a knee. Below him Carter cursed and held tight to his other leg. Jackson kicked. “Let go before we both roll down the hill.”

“Nope. You’re going down.”

“Like hell.” Jackson kicked again. The movement caused him to lose his footing. He hit the dirt like a sack of potatoes, mashing his face into the side of the rock-covered hill, and his left cheek banged against a hard stone. Shit, that stung. His eyes watered.

Carter let out an evil laugh and dug a hiking boot into his back as he stepped over him to catch Amanda.

“Son of a bitch.” Jackson felt his eye. The skin below was puffing up into a healthy bruise. He ran a hand over his spine. “I think I slipped a disk, you fat-ass.”

Carter climbed up the hill. “Jax, you’re a pussy.”

A pussy? Yeah, right. That came from the guy who has yet to beat me in a sport other than pool. Jackson pushed off the ground and lunged forward. It took four long steps to reach Carter. Jackson dove on Carter’s back, wrapping him up in an old-fashioned football tackle. Both men went down with a thud, cavorting in a barrel roll.

“Hey!” They jolted around at the sound of Amanda’s voice. She speared a finger at them—or just behind. “Look, you Neanderthals.”

Jackson felt a cool breeze of air. He glanced over his shoulder.
Holy shit.
He was two inches from rolling off the path’s edge, right into the tree tops ten feet below. Maybe not certain death but definitely serious injury-bound. “Oh, thanks.”

Carter fisted Jackson’s shirt and rolled his body to safety. Crawling to a knee, he gave a final shove to Jackson’s chest and stood. “Grow up.”

Jackson wanted to throw a retort but knew it would be equally juvenile to respond. He simply rose and dusted himself of debris while Carter joined Amanda, both leaving him standing like a ten-year-old caught playing in the mud before church. He wondered briefly where her friend Darlene had gone. Had she seen their wrestling match also?

Feeling chastised, he stood still and enjoyed the sun and scenery a moment before following. They crested the hill a few minutes later and took a different route to the bottom. Jackson pulled the map from his pocket, searching for a way to bypass them and win the challenge.

If he took the second trail to the left, he’d gain a quarter mile over the others. It looked steeper and he’d have to ford the water in the creek to beat them.
Wait.
The creek. Where Amanda
or
Carter would be skinny-dipping and soaking their tired legs if they won. He decided not to try to win the challenge after all. He grinned and hoped his timing would be impeccable.

The trees were shrouded in near-darkness when he finally reached an outcropping of rocks that smelled of damp moss and leaves. Eureka. Water spilled over the stones into a pool less than five feet below, then moved lazily down the river. The top of a head glistened, shiny and wet. From between the stones it was impossible to identify whether Carter or Amanda had won the bet but his money was on Carter. He seriously doubted anyone could outrun the former track star and health nut. Except himself, of course.

Jackson shucked his shorts and shirt, peeled off skivvies and shoes, and launched into a cannonball. He grabbed his knees, unworried about the water depth. They’d swam here as kids. It was safe. “Incoming!” His voice echoed off trees and hillside—along with the corresponding high-pitched scream.

Of Amanda’s naked friend, Darlene. Shit.

Don’t look, asshole. What an idiot idea.

When Jackson rose to the surface, he blinked twice and focused on the bank as he scrambled toward anonymity. Above he saw three sets of legs, two male and one female. Carter, the club organizer whose name escaped him, and Amanda.

“What the fuck, Jackson?” Carter frowned.

Darlene glided to the far side of the stream, then plunged behind an outcropping of granite that rose to make a great sunbathing ledge or hiding spot. She laughed. “Look, cowboy, as much as I like your company, give me a warning next time, okay? I’ll skinny-dip with you any day but you scared the shit out of me.”

Amanda plopped her hands on hips, chewing a wad of gum. Her eyes volleyed between Jackson and Darlene. Without a word, she threw her gaze toward the treetops and stomped away.

A month later, Jackson still burned when he thought of that night. Carter had taken advantage of Jackson’s screw-up. He’d thrown the charm on with Amanda and never left her side, the bastard. For the first time in his life, Jackson wanted to beat the shit out of the guy. It didn’t matter that Carter was the only person who’d given a crap about him as a kid. Nor did it matter that they’d always been a bit competitive. This was more than that.

Or was it?

It wasn’t like he’d ever dated Amanda. In truth, they’d been together a lot but never in any sort of romantic way. It wasn’t until things got really crazy at work that he had even given a single thought to taking their friendship down that path. If she hadn’t packed it up and ran for the hills a year ago, he probably would have asked her out. Most likely they’d have dated a short while and then moved on. End of story. He’d have put it behind him and still have his brains intact.

Now you’re thumbing Carter’s number every few days and listening in agony while he details their budding relationship.
Shit.
Like he wanted to hear
that.

Carter’s voice on the phone yanked Jackson back to reality. “It’s been a little over a month.”

“Wow, that’s a record for you.”

“I know. Think we should celebrate, or would that be a little too creepy?”

Jackson fumed but kept his voice calm. “Probably creepy. Wait at least another month or two. Changing the subject here—congrats on your project. I heard the board approved for you to take the lead on this one. I’ll be in on it too as far as the partnership is concerned.” Jackson had lobbied for the companies to do the deal together because he thought it’d be fun to work with his buddy. That was before Carter and Amanda got involved. Now he wished he’d left it alone. Real-estate developers were a dime a dozen and someone else would have snapped up the chance.

“Thanks, man. We’re celebrating Friday after work. Want to join us? We’re going to the Top Shelf Bar.”

Did he really want to endure seeing more of her—with him? No.

“Sure, what time?”

• • •

Jackson Holstenar had a knack for making rumpled shirts and khakis look like an Armani suit. Putting the straw of her drink to her lips, she watched him approach while she peered over Carter’s shoulder. Two other women followed his steps with their eyes as well. No surprise there; he’d always managed to draw a fan club.

Returning her focus to Carter, she pasted on a smile. “Carter, want another drink? I’m going for a refill.”

Carter dropped a kiss to her cheek. “Sure, I have a tab open so just add on. Everything okay? You seem a little distant.”

She nodded. “Fine. Just a big day. Some contract issues with a client.”
And I want to avoid Jackson before he gets any closer.

Jackson’s eyes locked on hers for a second. Was he pissed? She could swear there was anger in the depths of his pupils. She tapped Carter on the cheek, then turned and headed for the bar.

Why did Jackson get to her? They were friends. Just friends. She’d watched him date more than a handful of women. Correction: bimbos. Why did a man with a good brain go for that type? It made no sense at all. Or maybe it did. He was smart, talented. That was the catch. Perhaps it was a relief for him not to deal with the constant debates and depth of conversation that they’d had together. He liked the stress-free adoration of clingy and noncommittal bar hoppers. Like the one who’d boldly attached herself to him while Amanda waited for the drink order. That hadn’t taken long.

She turned back to the bar and snagged an olive from the bartender’s stash when he wasn’t looking. Seconds later, the drinks she ordered arrived and she carried them to the booth where Carter and Jackson had moved to.

Great. Jackson’s new pick-up girl was in the booth.

Carter stood and waited for Amanda to slip onto the vinyl cushions right next to pick-up girl, who introduced herself as Tammy.

Amanda sucked on her straw. “So, Carter, where’d you and Jackson meet each other?”

Carter’s focus was on the television over the bar as ESPN highlights displayed with the trailers scrolling across underneath. “We grew up together. He moved into a house down the street when I was a kid. I lost touch with him when we graduated. We went separate ways to college. When I landed here afterward, I called him up and we started hanging out again. Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “No reason. I just wondered.”

Carter put a hand on her neck and rubbed his fingers along the pulse point, which felt great because she was incredibly taut from work stress. “He’s a good guy. Right, Jax?”

Jax raised his glass in agreement but said nothing. The daggers in his eyes were quite impressively explanatory. He hated her.

Carter continued to knead the tension from her shoulders. “Tough day today?”

Amanda closed her eyes and let herself revel in the feel of his fingers on her neck. Tough? Hmm. A multimillion-dollar deal nearly failed because one of the partners didn’t like their percentage of ownership. The boss’s wife stormed in and ranted because he had disappeared from the office—and apparently their house the night before. And Amanda was sitting in a booth with Carter while he rubbed her neck—and all she could think about was his asshole friend and the girl beside him. “Yeah.”

When Carter’s hands no longer kneaded her neck, Amanda reluctantly slid her eyes open. She waited for the room to come back into focus. Bam.
Why the hell is Jackson staring at me?

“That was great, Carter. You have amazing hands. I see a couple of friends from work over in the corner. Mind if I say hello?”

“No problem. Go ahead.” He stood and Amanda extricated herself from the booth and maneuvered through the bar. It was a good excuse to escape the man-cave atmosphere that had become stifling when Jackson arrived. The last thing she needed was work talk with people she spent most of her day around, but Darlene was different. She had somehow mastered the work/life balance thing.

“Is the hottie you’re with the same guy I played outdoor-bathtub around last month?” Darlene asked.

Hmm. Honesty might be a bad idea. Would Darlene be embarrassed they’d both seen her bare ass? “Which one?”

Darlene did one of her annoying laughs that ended with a snort. Amanda had been around her long enough to find it a little endearing, like a period on a sentence. “Good point. They’re both hotties. I’d cross the street to talk to ’em. Which one are ya banging?”

“Um, I’m
dating
Carter, the one on the end, but we’re not—”

“Great, then you won’t mind if I talk to Tall and Lanky, would ya?” They both glanced at the booth where Jackson and Carter were glued to the television over the bar. The party girl next to Jackson was intently thrusting her fingers between the buttons of his shirt, attempting to wrangle his focus her way.

Amanda smiled. “He looks a little preoccupied at the moment.”

“Yeah, but guys like him find that kind of trailer trash bothersome. She’ll be gone in five, four, three, two … see, what’d I tell ya?”