Bad Girl Lessons by Seraphina Donavan, Wicked Muse

tear. Her mother would be impossible and she didn’t even want to think about what her Daddy would say. She reached for her skirt and struggled into it. Finding her scattered clothes and dressing as quickly as possible, she said, “Just take me to my car so I can get home and start battening down the hatches. This is not going to go well.”
    “If you want to be a bad girl, Evie, then be one. Who gives a damn what anybody else thinks?”
    I do, she thought. Being bad or kinky or anything else in the privacy of her bedroom or his was one thing. Of course, that hadn’t stopped her from walking into Tiny’s the night before and walking out with Jackson in tow like she was the whore of Babylon. Only now it was coming back to bite her in the butt. Having the whole town know that the sheriff caught them naked in a field together, fooling around in the bed of his truck like a couple of horny teenagers was not what she’d had in mind. Even then, she couldn’t really bring herself to regret it. As humiliating as it would be to be at the center of Gresham County’s gossip storm, the way he’d made her feel had been worth it. Getting caught had not been on her list of things to do, but she wouldn’t trade the night before for anything.
    “I don’t have to go to work, you know? I was supposed to have the whole week off anyway.”
    Jackson laughed, “Oh no. You have to face the music sooner or later, and trust me, sooner is always better. Go to work. Face down your Mama when she demands you stop acting like a jezebel and if that son of a bitch, Trevor, comes within fifty yards of you today, you call the police.”
    “And what are they going to do, Jackson? He hasn’t really done anything.”
    “Then you call me,” he said, and all traces of humor were gone from his voice. “I won’t go find him and beat the shit out of him, even though I want to, because you don’t seem so keen on the idea. But if he comes near you again, all bets are off.”
    It was a unique occurrence for Evie. She’d never had someone be protective of her before. “You know, Jackson Cope, you are a much nicer man than you are given credit for.”
    He pulled her to him, molding their bodies together, “I just take care of what’s mine.”
    She raised her eyebrow at that. “Yours? Since when?”
    “Since the moment you laid back on that dock and lifted that white satin dress for me,” he retorted, and then stopped any further protest with a searing kiss. “Now get your ass in the truck.”
    Had it not been for his cheeky grin, Evie would have clocked him with one of her black stilettos. Sliding into the cab of the truck, with Jackson holding the door for her, she met his cocky grin with a death star, “Keep on being a smart ass, Jackson and you’ll find out just how bad I can be.”
    “I fucking hope so,” he responded.
     
     
    Two hours later, Evie was once again seated at her desk, but it wasn’t work that filled her mind. It wasn’t even Jackson, which was something of a surprise. She stared at the picturesque house on her computer screen with a half smile curving her lips. It wasn’t a large house, but it had a lot of history which was important to her. Built at the turn of the century, it hovered between Victorian and Craftsman styles. With dark stained woodwork and large windows, it had gorgeous built in shelving and a kitchen that just begged to be cooked in. Picking up her phone, she placed a quick phone call to her bank to make an appointment with the loan manager and a second call to the realtor to schedule an appointment to view the house. With that done, she settled back in her chair to savor the excitement that burned inside her. That excitement withered when she heard the familiar click of heels in the hallway. Her mother’s perfect, ladylike stride would have been recognizable anywhere. Evie braced herself for the coming confrontation.
    “Good morning, Evangeline,” Margaret said, stepping inside and closing the door.