Against the Rules (Harts of Passion Book 1) Page 9

  "I don't say things I don't mean." I decided to change the subject. "So, where are you kidnapping me to?" We were on the outskirts of downtown, near several medical buildings. I was surprised when she turned onto a drive that led to the hospital.

  "You're about to find out." She grinned at me and pulled into a parking lot near the front door of a single floor building that looked like it had seen better days. A small sign above the door said “Kidz Klub.”

  I frowned, wondering what fiendish plan I'd been lured into. Childhood didn't hold fond memories for me, so anything to do with kids usually made me want to turn and run in the opposite direction.

  Still grinning mischievously, Grace got out of the car and headed around to the back of it. By the time I'd followed her, she'd already popped the rear hatch and was bent forward, reaching into the vehicle. Her ass wiggled in a pair of jeans that molded to her curves as she struggled to pull on something. Biting back a groan, I stuck my head inside to help her grab stacks of poster board and a box that contained bottles of paint and glue and who knows what else.

  I lifted an eyebrow at her as we both pulled the materials from the Trailblazer. "Are we crafting today? I kind of thought I left elementary school activities behind years ago."

  She didn't appear the slightest bit perturbed by my sarcasm. "I want you to meet some people," she answered, ignoring my scowl.

  I grabbed the box from the back and trudged behind her into the building where we were greeted by shouts of, "Hey, Ms. Grace!" I cringed as I saw a room full of kids, mostly young teens if I were to guess at their age.

  A blond man looked up from where he was stacking pieces of wood in the corner of the room. His face lit up when he saw Grace. He promptly dropped the boards and walked over to us, pulling Grace in for a warm hug. I fake coughed to mask my scowl at seeing both his hands on her as well as her smiling response and returned embrace.

  "Thanks for helping us out today, Grace. I see you recruited some help." He held his hand out. "I'm Shane. I run this place." He tipped his chin at the kids goofing around. "At least, when they let me."

  "Jax." I shook his hand and focused on Grace. "So, what exactly am I volunteering for?"

  I bet if I searched her head, I'd find little devil horns. I had made it clear to her in my office I had no interest in mentoring the teens she'd mentioned. She had me over a barrel, and she knew it. Surprisingly, I wasn't as pissed off as I would have expected. I admired her in a way. Not many people were able to pull anything on me, and I suspect she knew it given her smug look.

  She grinned and turned to Shane. "Jax is making a very generous contribution to our fundraiser, but when he saw me today, he was very insistent that he join me this afternoon, so feel free to put him to use wherever you need him."

  She beamed at me, still with a gleam in her eye. "Meet the teens you're helping, Mr. Carter. As you can see, this building isn't in the best of shape, nor is it big enough for the programs we’d like to implement. These kids know we're organizing a fancy fundraiser to help them, but they didn't want to be left out. Since they can't afford the dinner tickets, they wanted to do something fun. They thought of a carnival to raise money. It will be open to the public. Today, they're working on making signs for the games and advertising around town."

  I had to admit I was impressed by their desire to have ownership of a project to help meet their needs. Not willing to back down from her challenge, I spread my hands. "Not sure what all I can do, but show me what you need, and I'll try."

  Shane looked a little sheepish. "I don't suppose you're any good at building things? I've got this ticket booth the kids want. It looks simple enough in the picture, but now, I have no idea what sizes to cut or how to put it together."

  We were back to speaking my language. "Show me what you've got." I followed him to the corner, glancing back over my shoulder at Grace. She was staring back, not bothering to cover her impish grin. Feeling childish, I stuck my tongue out at her, making her laugh out loud. A funny warmth seeped into my gut, and I gave up my pretense of being angry and chuckled, too.

  While I hammered and nailed, I watched her from the corner of my eye. I was captivated by her kindness and enthusiasm as she moved from table to table to watch and encourage the work of the teens. Occasionally she offered suggestions as they explained what they were doing, but she let them take the lead.

  They obviously liked her as well. I had to hide a smirk as a few of the older boys tried to flirt with her. They had to know it wouldn't go anywhere, but I couldn't blame them for trying. Her smile was infectious, as was her charm. I wanted her to share that with me, not these young upstarts. And if helping out at this teen center is what it took, then I would cut and paint and nail boards, even if I'd rather be nailing her.

  Less than an hour later, I stood back and surveyed our efforts with pride. It had been awhile since I'd done any hands-on work, and I had to admit it felt good, familiar. My stomach, however, was unhappy. I'd promised Grace lunch, but her plan to sidetrack me had worked.

  I looked around and saw she was busy with a group of kids at a table, engrossed in both paint and laughter. I suspected there wouldn't be any pulling her away from her task. I'd known a lot of women, but I hadn't come across one that, short of a court-mandated order, would spend her free afternoon working and joking with teenagers. The ones I knew would have preferred combing through the latest fashions at upscale boutiques, and that was after they'd spent an hour or more doing their hair and make-up just to walk to the living room. I thought I liked how they took care of themselves and wanted to put their best face forward. Now they came across more like plastic Barbie Dolls without a thought for anything other than being more beautiful or current than the other women in their group.

  Then a startling thought crept its way into my mind—is that how Grace saw me? Was I part of the plastic group as well? I'd spent all of my adult life trying to rise to the top, to own the best money could buy; I was always reaching for the next best thing or more of it. But more of what? Money? Awards? My next fuck? Grace, in her casual clothes and modest car and home, was happier than anyone I knew.

  My phone chimed. I glanced at the screen and saw a text from Noah, one of the few people I called "friend." Relieved to have an escape from my revelations, I opened it up.

  Noah: What r u up 2?

  Me: U wouldn't believe me if I told u

  Me: Hey, what do kids like to eat? Specifically, teens

  Noah: WTF? Teens?

  Me: Don't ask

  Noah: I don't know. Pizza? What did you like at that age, or r u 2 old 2 remember?

  Me: f u

  Me: Talk later. Gotta order pizza.

  Noah: Sounds like a story I want to hear. Friday night at the farm?

  Me: Can't. Another time?

  Noah: You bet. But soon.

  I had to Google pizza delivery, but five minutes later, a mixture of a dozen plain and pepperoni pizzas was ordered as well as sodas. Everyone seemed to have something to do but me. Grace was still busy with whatever project she was helping some kids with, Shane had disappeared into some back rooms. I stood there with my hands in my pockets, feeling like an awkward teen myself.

  Somewhere, a throat cleared. Glancing around, I saw a boy sitting with his arms crossed at a table by himself, smirking at me. When I caught his eye, his mouth turned into a scowl, and he rolled his eyes at me. A part of me wanted to smack the impudence right out of him. The other part of me resonated with his isolation.

  Crossing the room, I pulled up a chair at his table and straddled it backward. "Hey. I'm Jax."

  Dark eyes slid sideways at me, but his only other response was a shrug. Ha! How well I knew this language.

  "You don't look like you want to be here."

  Another shrug.

  "Would it surprise you to know I didn't want to be here today, either?"

  He snorted. "Yeah, right." He glanced at me, then at Grace. "You're here 'cause you like her."

  The kid was perc
eptive. "I hardly know her. She kind of tricked me into being here." Close enough to the truth.

  "But you're an adult." Wide eyes turned fully on me. "No one can make you do somethin' you don't want. I still hafta do whatever someone tells me to do," he added sullenly.

  I flinched, even though he couldn't possibly know how his words struck a nerve with me.

  I leaned forward on my elbows. "So, someone made you come here?"

  "My mom made me come because she has an appointment at the hospital." He rolled his eyes. "Like I'm not old enough to stay home by myself," he grumbled.

  I nodded. "I see. How old are you, anyway?"

  "Thirteen." He sat back and crossed his arms but didn't look me in the eye. I leaned forward with my eyebrows raised. "Okay, eleven," he muttered. "But I'll be twelve in a month." Defensiveness seeped from his pouty lips.

  I thought through what I should say, knowing to defend his mother outright would be to lose him. "You might be right. But, there's old enough because of how many birthdays you've had, then there's old enough because you act like it."

  "What d'ya mean?"

  "Well, like showing your mom you're responsible. Doing chores or homework without being reminded, being respectful when she asks you to do something you don't want to. You know, something other than behaving like a three-year-old who didn't get his way." He frowned as I stared at him with raised eyebrows. "Maybe she just cares enough to make sure you're safe."

  He slouched in his chair, narrowing his eyes and squaring his chin. "I'm safe enough, now that she kicked my stepfather out of the house," he mumbled.

  My body jerked at his statement, and my blood pumped through my veins a little harder than usual.

  He rolled his eyes. "Look, my stepfather was an asshole. My mom's in some class to help her get over him or something. She dumped me here saying these kids would be a 'good influence on me.'" He screwed up his face as he mimicked what I guess was supposed to be his mom's voice. "I don't got nothin' in common with these goody-two-shoes.” He glared at our surroundings. “Or adults like you who think that stupid stuff like this makes everything all right for kids."

  I ignored his tone. "What's so stupid about it?"

  He waved his hand at me. "Like dumb games and stuff. It still costs money if you want to go."

  Aha. I started to understand the problem.

  He turned toward the table where Grace was and scowled. "And her, she's always smiling and making jokes like this is the greatest thing in the world. People like you and her ain't gotta clue what the real world's like."

  I might have agreed with him about Grace. Her optimistic outlook could only come from someone who'd never struggled; real struggles like how to survive, not like which pair of shoes to put on in the morning. But while I couldn't speak for her, I could for myself.

  "You don't know as much as you think you do, kid."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Let's just say I know what it's like to have known someone who didn't treat me right. I also know what it's like to have a mom who was willing to do anything to keep me safe. You're lucky. If your mom is seeking help, you should thank her because you have someone who cares about you. Not everyone does."

  "Wait, you? But you...you're...?"

  "What?"

  "Well, you seem all nice and stuff. How would you know what it's like?"

  "Bad people come in all forms and sizes. But so do the good ones. The only way to know for sure is to get to know them a little. You can still be cautious, but don't be so closed off."

  He nodded, and I hoped he was really listening. "And that's part of the point of this place. Instead of being resentful, try getting the stick out of your ass and start being grateful for people like your mom, Grace, and everyone else here."

  Great. Cursing at a child? Adults weren't supposed to do that. Damn, I was such a fuck-up. This is why I don't do kids. "Look, kid, I'm sorry, I shouldn't—"

  "Micah."

  "What?"

  "My name's Micah. Micah Daniels."

  "Right. Micah. I shouldn't have lectured you, and I definitely shouldn't have used language like that."

  He grinned at me, the real kind, not the angry smirk I'd seen earlier. "You think I haven't heard worse? I think you're the first person who’s talked to me like I wasn't three."

  "Yeah? Well, no surprise, since you were acting like you were three, sitting over here all pouty and stuff. I was starting to wonder if maybe you needed someone to take you to the bathroom to wipe your butt."

  He started to laugh, but stopped, as if he remembered he wasn't supposed to have any fun here.

  "What do you say, Micah? It might not be perfect, but it might not be as bad as you think, either. You won't know without trying. And even if you don't do it for yourself, maybe there's some other kid like you who would benefit."

  "Fiiine. But I'm not saying I'm going to like it here, so don't go thinking you've worked some miracle here."

  "Understood. Cross 'Miracle Worker' off my resume. Way to slay me, Micah." It felt good to see his responding grin.

  Through the window, I saw a car pull up. "What do you say to helping me get the pizza I ordered."

  "Pizza?" His eyes lit up, then he grinned. "See," he bumped my elbow as he walked to the door with me. "I told you that you were one of those nice guys."

  I nudged him back. "Shh. Don't tell anyone. That can't go on my resume either."

  He snorted. "Weirdo."

  "Pizza!" Happy cries of the other kids bounced off the walls once they saw us open the door. Micah started opening boxes while I paid for it. He was swarmed within seconds, and I saw him smile and even talk to a couple of the others.

  I smelled her soft, vanilla scent seconds before I was hip checked. Grace stood beside me, a bemused look on her face. "Pizza? Nice touch."

  I could think of more than a dozen ways I'd like to show her a nice touch. "It's not the lunch I promised, but it was the best I could do given my kidnapped status. I'll make it up to you."

  She didn't answer. We stood side by side watching teenagers demolish the pizza as if they'd been starved for days.

  She laughed then grew serious, resting her hand on my arm. Earnest blue eyes stared into mine. "Sorry, time got away from me. I didn't mean to keep you here this long. But to me, this is better than some fancy restaurant, Jax. I liked having a chance to see this side of you, not the ass I saw in your office."

  When I didn't answer, she looked over at the table where Micah was eating with a couple of boys. "I saw you talking to Micah. You're the first person who's gotten him to talk.” She nudged me with her elbow. “You did good today, Mr. Carter. You made a difference despite your reluctance. Color me impressed."

  The warm sensation returned. I'd created gadgets that sold for millions and closed tough deals for even more. I'd always felt a sense of satisfaction when that happened. But the pride her praise unleashed were invaluable. I wasn't sure how to describe it. Her words meant something to me because they were personal. All these years I'd fought not to give a fuck what anyone thought of me, and this woman had found a crack and slipped right in. I didn't know how to push her out. More so, I wasn't sure I wanted to.

  I grinned impishly at her. "You said, "ass" again. I might have to reevaluate my opinion of you, Ms. Hart."

  "Well, maybe we're both seeing a side to the other we don't let everyone else see." She winked at me and sauntered toward the pizza.

  She constantly surprised me. I wondered what else she might have in store. And unlike other women I'd known, I wanted to find out.

  12

  Grace

  The ride home began in silence. I didn't know what was on his mind. Maybe he was wishing he'd never tried to find me since I ended up tricking him into something I knew he wouldn't want to do. I wasn't sorry, though. After all, he'd done the same to me.

  However, instead of turning into the whiny, entitled rich boy I thought he might, he'd turned the tables on me once again. Rather than sulking in a corn
er or calling a taxi, he'd shoved up his proverbial sleeves and gotten to work helping Shane. I'd been covertly watching him, especially after one such glance I saw how his muscles flexed across his back and strained the seams of his shirt. Jax wasn't huge like a bodybuilder or linebacker. He was more streamlined, tall and narrow-waisted, but broad-shouldered and well-muscled.

  And watching him get Micah to talk—well, my heart might have melted a little bit. I didn't know the details about Micah's past, but enough to figure out that his mother had recently gotten out of an abusive relationship. I wasn't sure how much the young boy had witnessed, but given his sullen attitude, at the very least, he hadn't been blind to what was going on around him. I admired his mom who'd had the strength to leave, but so far none of us had been able to break through to Micah. And in one meeting, Jax had done the impossible. Remembering my blabbering of the mouth at the reception, I was starting to wonder if getting people to talk was how Jax became so successful. An interesting thought given how mute he was about himself. It made me curious to learn more about him.

  "It must have been hard losing your dad at a young age."

  Great dialog opener, Grace! Obviously, my mouth still ran away with my thoughts. "I'm sorry. That was blunt."

  "It's fine. I didn't realize your mom was such good friends with my aunt."

  Given the seriousness of the topic I'd blundered into, I decided to go with his obvious effort to change the topic. I guessed I wouldn't want to talk about my dad much either if he were dead. The very thought gave me chills.

  "I didn't either, but I shouldn't be surprised. Sometimes it seems like my mom knows almost everyone, and if she's not directly friends with them, then she knows someone who is. Kind of like the six degrees of Kevin Bacon, you know?"

  He laughed. "Your mom is something else. I'm not sure anyone has gotten me to agree to something so quickly before. She pretty much steamrolled me. I should hire her to negotiate contracts for me."

  I laughed, glad he saw the humor in it. "She's pretty amazing. There's not much I haven't seen her be able to do."