Beautifully Wounded (The Beaumont Brothers) (11 page)

Jackson

I couldn't believe what I was suggesting, bringing a strange woman into my home. Brodie's home. That was another issue I'd need to deal with before the afternoon was over. It was one thing having her up here, but Brodie might not like the idea of having her down in the same house, even though Lena didn't strike me as a thief or anything. Besides, she could barely walk, let alone steal anything.

She didn't move to get up, just stared at
me as if I just appeared out of nowhere.

“
Trust me. It will be alright.”

“
I don’t want to be a burden.”

“
Lena, you’re not a burden, and there’s something else you don’t know about me.”

“
What’s that?”

“
I have a soft spot for injured creatures, and you are injured. I can’t help myself, and there’s nothing you can say or do to keep me from helping you right now, so you’ll just have to give yourself over to me.” As I said those last words, her eyes grew huge, and I realized the significance they held. I wished I could take them back. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

“
Hope not. One tyrant in my life at a time.”

“
Good thing for you I’m not into oppression. So, now that that’s settled, let’s go down to my house. It will be easier on me.” Easier and safer, I thought. I could keep a better eye on her, and at least the main house had a security system. I wasn’t sure how intelligent this jerk of a husband of hers was, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

She didn’t move, just
continued to stare at me. I held out my hand. “There’s a security system down at the house. You’ll be safer there.” I decided to throw that in to help convince her. “Come on, come down, see if you feel comfortable; if not, you can come back up here tonight if you want. Just come down for now.”

Lena

Reluctantly, I agreed to go down to the main house. I figured being around people might be good for me. God knows I’d been deprived of that privilege long enough. The only people I ever got to see were the clerks at the grocery store or occasionally, the mailman, if I happened to be outside during the mail delivery, but he never left his truck, and only waved from his seat if he happened to notice me.

Jackson
helped me down the long stairway leading from the cottage to the house. Once inside he helped make me comfortable on the huge, buttery soft, brown-leather sofa positioned between two dark wooden tables, each sporting the most intricately carved wooden lamps. Across from the sofa stood a tan and light brown stone fireplace sizzling with the scent of burning pine. The two-inch thick slats on the brown shutters of the windows allowed just the right amount of sun in to warm my arms. There was a painting of roaring ocean waves breaking against the side of a steep mountain cliff on the wall behind my head, positioned just a few inches above the sofa. Another picture with scenes of pastoral fields hung above a very old looking cabinet with two doors made of metal slates framed with wood casings. Each door had a series of tiny nail holes making some sort of intricate design. As I looked closer, I realized there was a date etched in the middle of the design: 1861. Jackson must have noticed me staring at the large, beautiful piece of furniture.

“It’s
an antique pie safe. It belonged to my mom’s grandmother. That’s where they stored their pies to keep them fresh and safe from critters and bugs. The design on the doors is from the Freemasons society, the fraternal religious organization dating back several centuries. The compass, the square and the trowel are supposed to represent a moral lesson or something. I’m guessing maybe it was something my great grandfather was involved in. To me, it’s just a nice piece of furniture. Since I don’t bake many pies, it’s where I keep my music sheets and some other odds and ends that I have no idea where to put.”

He smiled
, and I smiled back. I’d heard of the freemasons, though I didn’t know much about them. I was grateful for the history lesson, brief as it was. “Maybe I could bake you one someday as a thank you.”

“You have a deal
,” he said with raised eyebrows. I settled back against the sofa and studied the rest of the room. On the opposite wall hung photographs of people, most likely Jackson’s parents and his aunt and uncle among other relatives. Some very old timey photos that might have been pictures of the great grandfather he’d mentioned. A few pictures of Brodie and Jackson were mixed in. It seemed strange to me that guys their age would have so many family pictures on the wall. Maybe it was just something left from their aunt and uncle since this had been their house. My question was answered almost as if Jackson had read my mind.

“The family display of pictures belonged to my aunt.
Brodie didn’t have the heart to remove them since those are all the people she loved. He said it gave the place a personality and some history. Underneath the macho exterior, my little brother does have a bit of a soft side, though don’t tell him I said that.”

“No worries,” I said. Other than the family pictures, the whole room screamed of masculinity. Glancing t
hrough the doorway, I spied the corner of a pool table. This was a house begging for excitement and perfect for social entertaining. I wondered if they did much of that.

Jackson retreated to the kitchen
, and I heard the refrigerator open along with the sounds of him placing things on the counter. I felt so helpless and wished I had the strength to give him a hand. My side still ached too much to stand for more than a few minutes. As I rested on the sofa, I considered this man bent on rescuing me. What made him tick? Jackson was a strong name. He was incredibly handsome. I loved the way his hair fell to the bottom of his neck. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and the dark stubble made him look a little older. His lips were thick and tender looking. And God, he smelled delicious, something that caught my senses more than once. I wished I had met him under different circumstances, and I suddenly wished I looked and felt better. How could I be attracted to a man so soon after another had treated me so badly?

He came back in carrying a tray with two glasses of milk
, a couple of sandwiches and two cups of coffee on it. I had a ton of questions I wanted to ask him, and couldn’t help myself as the first one poured out of my mouth as though it couldn’t wait to ruin the perfect relationship.

“
Jackson, have you ever been married?”

He turned,
his face showing surprise at the question. “No.”

“
Girlfriend?”

“
No. Not at the moment.” He chuckled softly. “Why do you ask?”

“
Well, you’re a very attractive guy. I would think girls would be knocking down your door to have you on their arm. Plus, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t intruding on anyone. If you did have a girlfriend, I’d hate to have her think the worst.”

“
Well, any girlfriend of mine would just have to accept the part of me that likes to protect the innocent.”

I thought about that, and wondered if he would indeed be helping me if he did have a girlfriend.
In some way or another, I bet he would.

“
Protecting the innocent and rescuing the wounded is what I do, remember?”

“
Yeah. I remember. Jackson …” I hesitated, so many thoughts were running rampant in my head, and I didn’t want him to think I was prying. “You said you graduated from college, and then went on to became a cop, then a private investigator.” I wanted to be delicate here because he seemed so much younger than someone who could have achieved so much already in life. “I mean, you don’t really look old enough to have done all that.”

Jackson set the coffee and sandwiches down on the table in front of the sofa and
laughed. “Thanks for that. If you wanted to know how old I was you could have just asked.”

“
Sorry. I’m not used to being so open with anyone. Okay, then how old are you?”

“
I’ll be twenty-three in a couple of months.” When I simply stared at him and frowned, he added, “I graduated high school at sixteen, and went directly into Berkeley. I did my four years in pre-law, but always kept music as a minor. I guess you might say I was an over-achiever back then.” He sat down on the sofa beside me and handed me a plate with a sandwich on it.

“Thanks,” I said. “It looks good.”

Without looking at me, he asked, “Uh ... how long were you married to him?”

“
A little less than a year ... it was stupid to marry him. I only knew him a few weeks. He was a bit over-protective, but never did anything that made me think he would hurt me until after we were married. Aside from that night after dancing with Weezer, which, at the time, I’d figured I’d deserved, that first couple of weeks was O.K, at least until the episode when he hit me during dinner. Everything
was
wonderful.” I took a bite of the sandwich, chewed, and swallowed, “Mmmm … turkey. It’s funny, you know, I never thought of myself as being weak, but now, I don’t know what I am. I planned to leave him after the first time. I just needed to find a way out, but as time progressed, it seemed to get harder and harder. He kept tabs on everything I did and everywhere I went. Escape seemed impossible.”

“
You don’t have to be weak to be manipulated. It seems to me he was the weak one. It takes a weak man to threaten and hurt the ones he is supposed to love and protect. You, sweetheart, were brave and strong. Brave to endure, and strong to get out.”

Jackson

I left Lena in the living room with a small fire in the fireplace so she’d stay warm, and went to send Luke the pictures and other information he’d need to start the process for a restraining order and divorce. When I came back to the living room, I found Lena asleep.

I let her sleep for a couple of hours
, and once the sun slipped down below the horizon, it seemed a bit chilly. I relit the fire and pulled a blanket up over her being careful not to disturb her, but she stirred and opened her eyes.

“
Oh hey, I thought you were sleeping.”

“
I was, but I’ve also been thinking.”

“
About?”

“
This might seem silly, but I feel so helpless. I mean, not just because I'm hurt, but here you've taken me in, a complete stranger, and I have no way of repaying you. Maybe you could let me work in your pub when I’m feeling better? I don’t know, washing glasses or something. I don’t have much experience—well any, actually—as a waitress or anything, but I’m not used to having someone care for me, and it’s just sort of weird since you hardly know me.”

I
knelt in front of her and took her hands in mine. “I know enough about you to know you’re a decent person, that you’ve been wronged, and that you need help. That’s all I need to know.” I smiled at her.

“What?”

“The swelling on your eye seems to have gone down almost completely, it looks as if all the ice worked.”

I
smiled and stroked my hand lightly down the side of her cheek, and again wished I could make her bruises go away with a brush of my fingers so I could revel in the taste of her full, generous lips.
No, Jackson, not this woman.
As much as I wanted her, it would have to be on her terms, when she was ready.

“
When your bruises are healed, and when you’re feeling back to normal completely, would you be open to some self defense training?”

“
I guess so.”

“
Great. Until then, concentrate on getting stronger. I’m not worried about you paying me back for anything. If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be.”

The front door slammed
, and Rufus howled as Lena’s body jerked, and Rosie scurried under the sofa.

“
Jackson, here’s your guitar. You left it at the bar again. Quiet Rufus.” Brodie blew into the room carrying two guitars over his shoulder.

“
Brodie, do you have to announce your presence by slamming the door?” I let go of Lena’s hands, got up, and took the guitars from my brother.

“
You know me, bro, I like to make a grand entrance. Oh, hey, Lana, how’s your eye?”

“
It’s Lena, by the way,” I told him.

“
Huh?”

“
It’s Lena, not Lana. Who’s got the bar?”

“
I thought you said … Derrick. Sorry.” He glanced toward Lena, “I thought you said Lana the other day.”

I
decided to let it go, no point in explaining. “Derrick, good, is he closing or are you going back?”

“
I’m going back, I’m starving. Have you guys eaten dinner yet? Want to order Chinese?”

I
looked at Lena—she nodded. “Yeah, sure. You order. Any particular item you like best, Lena?”

“
Sesame beef, spicy.”

I
raised my brow and smiled at Brodie.

“
Now there’s a girl after my own heart,” Brodie chimed. “Spicy it is.”

When
Brodie and I were alone in the kitchen, he startled me with, “What's with the name switch?”

“
She lied,” I answered, not thinking too much about it.

“
She lied?”

“
She was being cautious. Give her a break. Listen, Brodie, she’s going to stay here in the guestroom instead of the cottage.”

“
Wait. She lies about her name, and you decide it's okay to open up my house to her?”

“
She was scared shitless. You'd lie too under the right circumstances.”

“
I see. Why don’t you just pass over all the preliminaries and let her stay in your room?”

“
Don’t be snide, Brodie.”

“
Snide? It wasn’t meant to be snide, Jack, just stating the obvious.”

“
What’s that supposed to mean?”

“
Come on Jackson, you know you’re falling head over heels for her. It hasn’t even been a week since she walked into the bar, and you’re tripping over your own feet just to make her comfortable. You were supposed to put her up in the cottage, now she’s in the guestroom. What the hell is it with you and the injured?”

“What’s your problem,
Brodie? And what the hell is it with you and all the women you bring home all the time? Fucking a different one every night isn’t going to make her come back. I get it. You loved her; she broke your heart, but not every woman is like Beth.” I knew that hurt, bringing up the girl who’d broken his heart, possibly scarred him for life it seemed by the way he was acting, but jeez, he needed to back off.

“Maybe not
!” he yelled. “Maybe not, but at least I’m dealing with it, and we aren’t talking about her or me.”

“That’s how you deal?
By not caring? Are you saying I shouldn’t care—that I shouldn’t want to help someone in need?”

“
No. I’m just saying open your eyes, brother. I don’t have a problem with you wanting to rescue the unfortunate—just don’t kid yourself on this one. You already care too much. I see it—I saw it when I came home, the way you were looking at her, holding her hands.” Brodie scowled and shoved past me. “Where’s the phone?”

I
handed him the portable, and he ordered dinner.