Forgiving Jackson by Alicia Hunter Pace Page A

it since you don’t think CDs are the way to go.”
    “I wouldn’t want anything. I would just want an honest goodbye.”
    “That might take too long. Come on. Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten a kiss-off gift.”
    “Never.”
    “Never?” He looked at her, widened his eyes, and pretended to look shocked. “You’re not letting the right guys break up with you.”
    “Maybe I’ve always done the breaking up.”
    “You should date my brother and get him to break up with you. You’d get something nice.”
    “I’ll get right on that. Maybe I can become a San Antonio Wrangler cheerleader. I’ll tell you this: if there had to be a gift, a piece of jewelry is better than a CD.”
    “Yeah?” He gave her a flirty little smile. “If I had you, I might not break up with you. I might keep you and buy you personal items. No Manila Black Nick shoes though. They sound tall and expensive—though I could get on board with the tall.”
    He certainly had meaningless flirting down to a fine art.
    “Cut it out. Don’t mistake me for a woman standing in front of your stage hoping you’ll touch my hand.”
    “I’ll give you a CD when I fire you. Maybe two.”
    Suddenly, this wasn’t fun anymore. “If you’re going to fire me, I wish you’d just go ahead and do it. I’m tired of being threatened.”
    He turned to her, puzzled. “Emory, I am not going to fire you. I’m going to close the business. There’s a difference.”
    “Every five minutes, you say you’re going to fire me, like you’re going to throw me out any minute.”
    “I’m not going to do that.” He looked up and down the street. “Where is this place?”
    “Next to the drugstore on the next block.”
    “I know where the drugstore is,” he said defensively.
    The crowd was thin today and Jackson pulled into a space right in front of Piece by Piece.
    Emory reached for the door handle. “I’ll be right back.”
    “Wait.” Jackson switched off the motor and turned to her. “I’m a man of my word. I’m not throwing you off of Beauford Bend. I’m going to help you get set up at Firefly Hall just like I said I would.”
    “Then you keep threatening me just to remind me that you can fire me at any time?”
    “No. I don’t think I need to remind you of that. We both know it. But I won’t. I was kidding you.”
    “Forgive me if I don’t think losing my livelihood and home with no notice is funny.”
    He nodded. “That’s fair. But keep this in mind: I can’t fire you—not unless I want to run a quilting bee and teach charm school.” He bit his lip and smiled. “Because I have no doubt those people are showing up no matter what.”
    She believed him. A weight lifted. “All right. So you’re going to stop threatening me?”
    “No, probably not. But I won’t do it.”
    “Good enough. I won’t be long.”
    He turned his cap around and pulled the bill low. “I’m coming with you.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I choose to. I might want to commission a quilt with my guitars on it. It would be a good memory for when Sammy lets somebody destroy them all.” He had her door open before she got the chance. “Here.” He took her arm to help her down and she waited for the panic to set in like it usually did when a man touched her. But it didn’t. It hadn’t when he’d helped her into the truck and it hadn’t at first when he’d kissed her.
    He retrieved the quilt box and then he touched her again—placed his hand lightly on the small of her back, no doubt just like Amelia had taught him was the correct way for a gentleman to escort a lady. Maybe that’s why she didn’t panic. Amelia had been Jackson’s surrogate mother and Amelia had been her safe place.
    Or maybe it was because all of her girlhood crush hadn’t turned to fandom. Maybe there was a little of it left dancing around in a little corner of her heart. She’d do well to remember she wasn’t that girl anymore and that he had told another woman he loved her not an hour