“They kicked us out of there,” Mrs. Marshall admits, still not looking up. “The second Jaxon got me out, a security guard came over and escorted us out as though we intended to cause that vulgar scene.”
“He didn’t buy her story when he saw her pants were split wide open,” Viv says in a squeal of a tone, still laughing as she wheezes out air, trying to breathe.
“When we got to the parking lot, Mom got catcalls and whistles, but she was so furious with Dad that she wouldn’t take his shirt to cover her ass,” Jax proceeds, still battling to speak and laugh at the same time. “So he walked behind her, holding it just barely off her until we got to the car. Our seats were leather, by the way, and had been baking in the sun for three hours by that time. So Mom not only had her ass shown to everyone that day and kicked out of the park for being rammed from behind by her husband, but she also got a nice burn on her ass the second she sat down. That is the ultimate ass story.”
It takes almost ten minutes for everyone to stop laughing, because every time it tapers down, someone thinks about it again, loses it, and sends the rest of us into hysterics.
I’m wiping the tears from my eyes when Jax reaches over and checks my glass.
“I’ll go make another pitcher of margaritas,” he says, kissing me softly and pulling away before it turns into something a little inappropriate.
Dad’s phone rings, and he picks it up, answering as he walks down to the beach for some privacy. I’m suddenly all alone with Jax’s family. But for once, it’s not scary.
Mrs. Marshall has raised her head, and she’s sipping her drink while staring over the top of her cup at me. When she lowers her glass, she’s smiling.
“This will definitely be the most memorable trip we’ve had in a while.”
Viv spills her drink in her lap at that moment, eliciting a few laughs, and she rolls her eyes while heading toward the door.
“I’ll be back after changing,” she calls while disappearing inside.
I’m almost positive we’re all a little drunk. Margaritas and the beach—gotta love it.
“It has definitely been a unique experience,” Mr. Marshall says, adding to his wife’s comment.
“I’m glad Jax brought you,” his mother tells me, causing my stomach to flip a little. “And not just because you were our savior when the house burned down. Not because you’re the daughter of Vince, either. I’m glad he brought you because this is the first time Jax has come on a trip with us and actually been on the trip with us since he was a child.”
I frown, thinking that over as I try to decipher what she’s saying.
“It’s true,” Mr. Marshall says with a shrug. “Usually he disappears after a few days with his friends, and we only see him when he’s on his way out to go somewhere else. Been like that since he was a teenager.”
I start feeling a little uncomfortable under the weight of their gaze.
“I’ve never seen him so open and communicative with anyone, but I’m fairly sure he’s told all his favorite stories to you just from what I’ve heard in passing,” she goes on. “It’s a very big deal for my son, since he usually just observes as opposed to engaging.”
I guess Jax and I are more alike than I realized.
“He also can’t seem to take his eyes off her,” Dad says while coming back up on the deck, but he doesn’t look so happy about it. Not that anyone else would notice, but I’m not just anyone.
Dad is fake smiling.
“Yes. That’s very true,” Mrs. Marshall says, smiling bigger.
“Just hope he doesn’t break her heart,” Dad goes on, glancing over at me.
I glare at him, and he winks. He had to go and make it awkward. And I hate the way he makes me sound so fragile.
I want to tell him he’s underestimating me, and that I’ve survived just fine for twenty-four years without having a broken heart. But I don’t. He’ll just argue, the condescension will get thicker, and I’ll end up looking like a bigger fool.
I bite my tongue. As usual.
“Her sister can handle the ditching, but Bo is my sweet one. She gets too attached,” he adds, causing me to bite my tongue just a little harder.
Fishermen will find his body floating tomorrow when I get done with him. Did I mention I hate him a little right now? I’ve never once gotten too attached to anyone.
Oh, and I break up with my own guys, unlike that “strong” sister of mine. Guys hav
e used me for my bank account, or they’ve felt too inferior and emasculated around me because of my success. I’m no stranger to failed relationships.