"We were complete opposites. Jackson's life before me consisted of him pushing away anyone who tried to get close, while I wore my heart on my sleeve."
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Maggie Carpenter is a waitress at a high-end club in Arizona who lo...
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When Our Stories Entwine- The second book in the trilogy is fully released. Head on over to continue Jack & Maggie's story! Now with Jackson's POV. ❤️
Maggie-
"Lovely to meet you, Carol." Jackson's beautiful accent rings through the room and the polite greeting he grants my mother brings warmth to my heart. He's really trying tonight.
"Well, why don't you guys take a seat in the dining room and I'll bring the turkey in a moment." She says as she hands us both a glass of wine.
I take a big gulp of the glass and start leading Jack to the dining room. I normally prefer a sweet wine and she's given us both a dry red. I let a subtle gag out and try to look past the disgusting vinegar flavor.
We both sit at the table and before long my mother enters the room with a beautifully carved turkey. We make it through dinner relatively quiet with only an occasional arbitrary question here and there. I remain calm for the simple fact that Jackson's fingers rub tiny circles on my thigh under the table.
"Are you still working at that bar?" She asks expectantly. I'm sure Jack doesn't catch the subtle distaste in her words but I catch them clear as day.
"I'm actually working at a publishing company now. Jackson helped me get in." I blush, sideglancing at Jack as he awards me with a loving smile.
"Oh, so that's why you're sleeping with such a rough-looking young man." She says looking smug.
"Mom!" I shout, right before I down my glass of wine, holding my breath so I don't get even the slightest hint of the noxious smell.
"I need another glass of wine." The words leave my mouth quickly as I attempt an escape.
"I'll help you." Jack says immediately jumping from his seat.
We walk into the kitchen and leave my mother at the dining table alone. The second we enter I turn to him ready to apologize but he takes my face in his hands and brings his lips passionately to mine.
He pushes me up against the counter and my hands reach up to thread my fingers through his hair. I jump slightly when his hands grip my ass and I'm about to start climbing him until he slows me down.
"I'm sorry-" I start until he cuts me off.
"Don't be, she's an absolute nutter. You were right and I'm sorry you have to deal with her." His thumb grazes my bottom lip and his kind words bring rosiness to my cheeks. We're so close, I'm still pinned against the counter and I'm craving his touch.
"She can insult me all she wants but I don't want her to hurt you." I whisper. I'm suddenly wishing we never came here.
His forehead presses against mine and he whispers, "You're the one she's insulting and you're worried about my feelings love? I'm sorted, don't worry about me but she's proper blinkered. Why do you bother?"
"Blinkered?" I ask, half because I'm unaware of the slang he's used, half in an attempt to avoid his question.
"Narrow-minded." He clarifies then waits for an answer to his original question.
I don't have an answer for him so I simply shrug.
"Come on, there's got to be a reason." He insists.
"I think my father has something to do with it. If he didn't pass, maybe she would be different." I admit.
Jackson nods before leaning in closer, threading his fingers through my sun-kissed brunette hair and pulling me into a tender kiss. His lips moving in sync with mine makes for an exciting interlude to what otherwise would be a disastrous evening.
My hand slides back on the counter for support and brushes across a few loose papers knocking them to the floor.
When our lips separate Jack takes a step back and lifts up the mess of papers we dropped, but before he can place them back on the counter I stop his arm.
I stare at a small envelope clutched in his comparatively large hand and it's as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of my lungs.
"Maggie, what's wrong?" Jack asks with worry lacing his voice.
With a shaky hand, I reach for the envelope and read aloud the name hastily written in the return address.
"William Carpenter." I whisper out loud and look to Jack with wide eyes.
He doesn't seem to understand what's gotten into me until I say, "That's from my father."
