The Rebel Returns. Michelle Douglas
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“If you’re so interested in the coffee, you have it.”
The next thing Jax knew warm liquid hit him in the face. His hands balled at his sides and a growl started deep in his throat. With every muscle tensed, he stood there soaked as coffee continued to drip from his chin.
“Enjoy.” The man staggered away.
Jax took a step in the man’s direction then stopped. More than anything he wanted to go after him, but he knew better. Nothing good would come from exacerbating the situation.
He glanced over in time to see Cleo standing at the entrance to the restaurant with two burly security guards. “That’s the guy.”
While security dealt with the obnoxious man, Jax turned to the waitress. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and handed him a towel. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been here.”
He proceeded to dry his face. “Glad I could help.”
“I tried to make him understand that I have to follow the rules. I—I wasn’t sure what to do. I’m new and no one has ever acted like that before. I should have handled it better.” The girl grew flustered and he felt bad for her.
“You did fine. He was just a difficult man. Here, let me give you a hand cleaning up.” He knelt down and started placing the big pieces of glass on the tray.
“If there’s ever anything I can do for you, just ask for Marylou.”
“Thank you.” He flashed her a reassuring smile. “I’ll keep your offer in mind.”
Cleo returned with a mop and bucket. She looked him over. “Are you okay? Did you get burned?”
“I’m fine. Luckily the coffee had time to cool down. I’m just a little wet.”
She gave him one last look as though to determine whether he was telling the truth. Then she started mopping the floor. The three of them worked together until the mess was nothing more than a distant memory.
“Well, hero,” Cleo said, smiling up at him, “let’s get you back to the bungalow and into some dry clothes.”
He shook his head. “I’m no hero.”
“Yes, you are. Just like all those years ago when you stood between me and Billy Parsons when he insisted I hand over my lunch money. You’re still playing the modest hero. That’s one of the things that I always—” She clamped her lips together and glanced away.
His black mood started to lift. “That you always what?”
“That I...I always admired about you.”
The way she stammered around, he couldn’t help wondering if that was what she’d originally intended to say or if there was some other hidden truth that was making her look so uncomfortable. He knew she had a crush on him way back then. And in all honesty, he’d thought she was pretty great, too. But way too young for him.
“Come on. Let’s get you out of these.” She tugged at his damp, clingy T-shirt. “Then again your new cologne, eau de coffee, might be a big hit with the ladies.”
“You think so? How’s it working for you?”
Her petite nose curled up. “I don’t think it’s your scent.”
Her soft laughter was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. And her smile started a funny feeling in his chest. If only he could keep her smiling.
Her eyes twinkled. “Are you flirting with me?”
“If you have to ask, I must not be doing it right.”
She laughed some more. “I’m glad not everything about you has changed. You were always a great guy in my book.”
Her gaze lifted up to meet his. The tender look in her eyes touched something deep inside him—a part of him that he thought was long dead. In that moment, he felt more alive than he had in months.
Without thinking he reached out and caressed her cheek. “Thank you.”
She leaned into his touch, short-circuiting the logical side of his brain. The only coherent thought in his head was to pull her close and kiss her. And this time he wouldn’t be kissing her rosy cheek. This time he planned to find out if those cherry-red lips were as sweet and passionate as they were in his daydreams.
His head started to lower when he heard footsteps behind him. He pulled away. Frustration bound up in his gut. He’d been so close—a breath away from satisfying his desires.
His hands clenched at his sides as he worked to compose himself. A little voice in his head assured him that this was for the best, but it didn’t stop the wave of disappointment. Only a moment or two more and he’d have had a tantalizing memory to take back to New York.
“What’s going on here?” Mr. Burns demanded. “Security said there was some sort of incident.”
Cleo stepped forward. “Mr. Smith played hero. Everything is fine now.”
Mr. Burns frowned as he surveyed Jax’s stained shirt. “I’m sorry about that. Please stop by the men’s shop and pick out a replacement. Charge it to my account.”
Cleo clasped her hands together. “I can explain—”
“Trust me, you’ll get your chance in my office. I have something to take care of first, but I’ll be there shortly.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cleo’s worried gaze moved from Mr. Burns to Jax. He wanted to reassure her that everything would be all right. That if he had to he would go over this man’s head because he was really starting to dislike her boss and the tone he used when speaking to her.
Not wanting to do anything to make her even more uncomfortable, he decided to wait until she was gone before he had a word with this man. Then he’d set him straight.
* * *
Talk about a long, miserable evening.
Not even the magnificent sunset with its brilliant orange-and-pink glow could lift Cleo’s spirits. She strode along the path to Jax’s bungalow, grateful for its privacy. Her steps picked up speed as she continued contemplating what had just happened.
What made everyone think they knew what was best for her? First her overbearing family. Then her two-timing boyfriend. And now Jax...
She’d been a fool to think Jax was different—that he respected her ability to take care of herself. Even if it was to learn from her mistakes. She could just add him to her ever-growing list of people who’d disappointed her.
Her lips firmed into a line, holding back a string of heated words. She only had herself to blame. When would she learn to be more cautious?
There had only been one other time when she’d been this worked up—the last day she’d argued with her father on the phone. Her stomach churned as the chilling memory surfaced. She recalled how her father had yelled and then the phone had gone dead. Not knowing what had happened to him, she’d practically climbed the walls waiting for him to call her back. Nothing could ever be that bad. And thankfully this day wouldn’t end with someone dying.
But before she was done, Jax would get an earful.
She stopped outside the bungalow and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Her tightly clenched fist knocked solidly on the door. She waited. No answer. She once again pounded on the solid wood door.
“I’m not leaving until you talk to me,” she shouted.
The door yanked open just as she raised her clenched hand.
“I think the entire resort heard you.” He glanced both ways. “I’m surprised no one has come running to find out what’s wrong.”
She lowered her hand and marched past him into the bungalow. “Do you