Beautifully Wounded (The Beaumont Brothers) by Susan Griscom Page A

dropped my hand and stepped away. I wanted to touch her. I wanted very much to take away her pain, not only the bruises, but the mental anguish I knew she must carry inside, and the thought worried me. Just how long could I stand not touching her?
    “ Listen, Jackson, this is really great, what you’re doing for me.” Her words brought me out of all those visions I had no business thinking about. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
    “ Don’t worry about it right now.” I turned to walk out of the bathroom, but stopped and turned back. “If you want to shower and wash your hair, the shower controls are backwards, something I’ve been meaning to fix but haven’t gotten around to yet.”
    “ Okay, thanks.”
    I had to force myself to turn back around and walk away. Coaxing Rufus out of the way, I shut the bathroom door, and went back down to the main house. Black eye and all she was lovely, but she wasn’t in any shape—emotionally or physically—for me to be thinking about her in that way. Hell, the way I saw it, she probably never would be. I swore that if this Troy character was still, alive and I ever met up with the coldblooded bastard, I’d need to have someone restrain me because I knew I’d want to kill him.
    Down in my own kitchen I decided to make some eggs and toast. Considering that Lena walked into the bar around nine, and it was nearly noon now, she must be hungry. I brewed some fresh coffee and put some butter in a pan when the phone rang.
    “ Hello?”
    “ Jackson, are you coming back? You left your guitar here on the stage,” Brodie said.
    “ Shit, um ... could you put it in the office? I don’t know when I’ll get back there.”
    “ Yeah, sure. Also, where did you put the daily sheet with the liquor count on it?”
    “ Look in the register,” I barked. Brodie knew that’s where I always put it. Out of frustration, I took a couple of steps toward the doorway.
    “ I did, it’s not there, and one of the keg spouts is jammed.”
    God , I hated when Brodie acted like an imbecile.
    “ Open your bloody eyes Brodie, and look harder. I don’t have time for this. I’ve got things happening here.”
    “ Yeah? Well while you’re off playing hero I’ve got a business to run.”
    “ My business.”
    “ Yeah your business, and I’m running it by myself. So cut me some slack will you? Okay, found it, you stuck it under the twenties. By the way, how’s your fawn?” There was a note of actual concern in his question.
    “ Mending.”
    I turned to the sizzling sound followed by the smell of burning butter coming from the stove. “Shit, I need to go. Talk to you later.”

Chapter 1 2
    Lena
     
     
    I pulled on the over-sized sweatpants and thermal shirt. It felt good to be clean, to get the smell of Troy off me. Jackson was thoughtful enough to bring a brush up with him when he brought up the shampoo and towels. Standing in front of the mirror I brushed the tangles out of my wet hair, and then carefully applied some makeup to my face. It was no use though. No amount of makeup would hide the dark bruises. I’d just have to wait it out.
    I went to the daybed and sat, propping the pillows up behind my head. Bringing my legs up, I extended them out in front of me. It felt amazing to stretch out. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.
    I had the sense of sleeping. Dreaming , as I approached a dense, dark pathway that seemed to go on forever. I wandered down the narrow trail, the grass brushing the tips of my fingers as I walked. It was quiet. No one else was around. It seemed too tranquil, a bit too safe. Something was wrong, yet I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until I recognized the deep, rough voice. “You can’t hide.” I jerked my body around toward Troy ... he was alive. I ran that slow, sluggish jog you have during a dream, but my energy seemed too weak making my attempts at gaining enough speed to escape nearly impossible.
    His voice was like a distant echo.