Claiming Gigi Page 7

  “Excuse me?” she asked, her voice a little higher than usual. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I’m not. I’m very serious.” Jackson crossed his arms, adrenaline beginning to course through his veins. “Go out with him tonight. Giggle at his stupid jokes. Kiss him. Hell, fuck him. Do what you want.” He turned to head downstairs, but her nails digging into his arm stopped him.

  “Why are you pissed?” she asked. “Is it because I’m going out with Preston? Or just another man in general?”

  “I’m not pissed you’re going out with another guy,” he spat, pretty positive he was a liar. “I’m pissed that you care. After the way he treated you, why do you care?”

  “I care because of the way he treated me,” she spat. Gigi took a breath, her eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushing. “He made a fool out of me. I care because he walked around here, fucking every girl he could, and then tried to make me feel like I was crazy for not being A-okay with it. I care because he broke my heart into a million fucking pieces and then walked away before they’d even hit the ground.”

  Jackson listened to her voice break. Watched as her eyes filled with tears, threatening to fall. Each moment a knife to his heart.

  You don’t belong with her, boy. She’s too good for a fuckup like you, and you know it. You and me…we’re no good.

  “Yeah—” he said, his heart aching “—and yet, you still went and bought pink come-fuck-me heels.”

  Gigi’s eyes went wide, her lips falling slightly open.

  “Who knows, maybe one day you’ll hate me that much. I can’t fucking wait.”

  “Get out,” she whispered.

  Jackson swallowed the lump in his throat, his chest in so much pain he could barely stand it. Take it back, he thought. Take it back you idiot. Right the fuck now. “Gigi…”

  “Get. Out.”

  “I’m so—”

  “Get out!” she screamed, her voice breaking. “Right now. I mean it, Jackson. Get the fuck out.”

  Jackson thought about wrapping his arms around her, holding her until the fight was gone. About falling to his knees, begging he forgiveness. Maybe if he kissed her, maybe then she’d see he didn’t mean it. That he was so fucked up from his father’s voice in his head all day he couldn’t think straight.

  But he didn’t do any of those things. Instead he looked at her for a few seconds more, taking in her face, her eyes, her lips…and even though they weren’t the way he wanted to remember her, they were still beautiful. Then he turned and walked away, down the stairs, and out the door.

  Chapter 9

  Excuse me? Yes, thank you. We’ll take two glasses of your best Bordeaux.”

  Gigi watched as Preston ordered the wine, her pink high-heeled foot impatiently tapping under the table. She waited for the waitress to leave their table, then said matter-of-factly, “I don’t drink red wine anymore.”

  “No?” he asked, his eyebrow raised in surprise.

  “Nope. I prefer dirty vodka martinis.”

  Preston rolled his eyes, his snarky chuckle making its way out of his lips.

  Gigi bit her tongue, doing her best not to show her annoyance. She’d wondered how long she’d be at dinner before she heard that annoying sound. “Do you find my tastes in cocktails amusing?”

  “I do,” he said, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the table.

  “Why?”

  “Because the Gigi I knew always wanted Bordeaux. Just like me.”

  “Maybe you didn’t really know Gigi,” she said, eyebrow arched in a silent challenge. “Maybe she didn’t know herself, either.”

  “I knew her. I still do.”

  Gigi took a sip of her water, taking him in as she did. What the hell had she ever seen in him? True, she’d been young. But the one charismatic god she thought she’d been dating had been replaced with this smarmy, skinny, weenie of a man. Had he always been so snobby? Surely she wouldn’t have been with a man like that for any long period of time. She remembered thinking she loved the man in front of her, and now?

  Now all she could think about was what he didn’t look like. He wasn’t as tall as she’d remembered, and his pale skin wasn’t golden. His bright red hair was pulled back into a small ponytail, not a dark fohawk, and his dark grey skinny jeans did little to get her heartrate up like a man with thick, strong thighs.

  He’s not Jackson, you idiot.

  “So how have you been, kid?” he asked after the waitress placed their glasses of wine on the table. “How’s tricks?”

  “Things are good. I’m painting again.”

  “Yes, so you said. I’d love to see something.”

  “Probably not,” she responded, her voice cool and calm.

  “Why not?”

  “You never appreciated my work before, why would you now?”

  “Ah. I see. Still sore about that?” He swirled the wine in his glass, his eyes fixated on the ribbons it left as it settled.

  “I’ve never been sore about it,” she corrected. “I simply choose to show my work to people who appreciate it. Support it. Support me.”

  “And your fiancé does this?” he asked, a smirk playing with the corners of his lips. “He encourages you? Gets your creative juices flowing?”

  Gigi knew he was trying to bait her, and she’d be damned if she was going to take it. “So, what have you been up to?” she asked, instead.

  He leaned back in his chair, his fingers crossed in his lap. “Oh, the usual. Work. Traveling. Missing you.”

  “I like how you threw that in.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I’ll just bet it is.” Gigi took a sip of her wine, made a face, then placed it back down on the table. “I’m quickly remembering how much I hate Bordeaux.”

  “You didn’t hate it before.”

  “I’ve always hated it,” she countered. “You just never bothered asking what I’d like, and I wasn’t confident enough to tell you.”

  “And now you are?”

  “What do you want, Preston?” she asked, suddenly exhausted. She didn’t want to play this stupid game anymore. She’d been an idiot to go along with it in the first place. She wanted to be home. Painting. Watching a movie. Anything but be sitting in this restaurant with him. “Seriously. Why are we here? And don’t give me any bullshit about you missing me, because we both know that’s not true.”

  “It is true, kid. Look, when we were together…I was young. Full of myself. I knew I had a good thing in you, but I was a hound dog, and pussy was in abundance.”

  “Jesus,” Gigi said, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

  “Look, I’m just being honest here.”

  “No shit? Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

  “Gigi…”

  “Preston?”

  “I was a fool. I readily admit that.” He leaned forward again, placing his hand on hers. “My paintings were selling, I was making money hand over fist, and even though I had a woman who admired the hell out of me, it wasn’t enough. I was weak. I did things I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry.”

  Gigi looked down toward his hand, still covering hers, and felt like she wanted to gag. His skin was cold and clammy, and she wanted nothing more than to vomit. She tried to remove her hand from his, but he only tightened his grip. “What are you doing?”

  “Listen to me,” he insisted, his eyes narrowed on hers. “I need you back. I know you’re engaged, but if you loved him, you wouldn’t be here with me.”

  “Let go of me.”

  But he didn’t let go. Instead he leaned in further, the alcohol on his breath clueing her in on the fact that the wine probably wasn’t the first drink he’d had tonight.

  “I was at my best when I was with you,” he continued. “The art flowed through me. I didn’t even have to concentrate. It just came out of me, and everyone loved it.”

  “Preston—”

  “I haven’t sold a painting in months,” he spat, his voice sounding desperate. “I kept
trying to figure out what was going on. Why things were falling apart. And then I realized what was wrong. It just hit me one day, and I called you that very moment. It’s you, kid. You’ve always been my strength. My muse.” He squeezed her hand, fingertips digging into her flesh. “I need my muse back.”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Andrews?”

  Gigi looked up, surprised when she saw the host at their table. She looked around, curious if someone had sensed her unease and complained. “Yes?”

  The heavyset gentleman handed her a bag, then gestured toward the front. “A man came in here and said you needed these.”

  Gigi took the bag and thanked him, then peered inside, a smile immediately covering her face.

  “What’s that?” Preston asked, his curiosity obviously getting the best of him.

  “It’s from Jackson,” he said, more to herself than anyone else.

  Inside the bag were her black combat boots, along with a note.

  She picked up the paper, unfolded it, then read words that melted her heart.

  Nobody wants a girl in come-fuck-me heels when you can have a woman in kick-ass boots. Be you. You’re enough.

  Gigi felt a slight stinging in her eyes, and quickly blinked back any gathering tears.

  “The fiancé? He didn’t want to come in?” Preston twisted in his seat and looked around toward the front, but Gigi knew Jackson was long gone

  “He probably didn’t want to waste his time on someone like you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Gigi tugged off her pink heels, her feet screaming in relief, and slipped on her boots. “It means you’re an idiot. I’ve been sitting here this entire time wondering how in the hell I was with you, and I still don’t have the answer.” She stuffed the heels inside the bag, then stood up. “But I do know this. I know the only person you’ll ever truly love is yourself. Even now, you’re here whining about how you want me in your life again, but really, it’s just so you can get back something you think you’ve lost. It’s all about you. It always has been, and it always will be.”

  “I can get you noticed, too.” He said, desperation practically seeping through his pores. “I still have a name. I can make sure the right people see your work. You’ll blow up, Gigi. We’ll be a power couple.”

  Gigi laughed, shocked this man had once been everything she could have ever wanted. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t need you. I thought I did, once. And you know what? I cried a lot over you. As embarrassing as it is to admit, it’s the truth. I let you take my self-worth, my art, my life, really. I did. I handed it over to you to hold captive. But you know what? I’m done. Goodbye, Preston. Have a good life.”

  “Oh, come on now—”

  Gigi didn’t hear the rest, because she was halfway across the restaurant. She knew exactly where she wanted to be, and she planned to get there as fast as her boots would carry her.

  She’d only been to Jackson’s studio a few times. Anytime they’d done a shoot it was always outside, or he’d brought certain equipment to the townhouse. The building itself was more of an outside garage than anything else. A workshop with a few windows, a desk, and a bed for when he slept there. His equipment wasn’t fancy, but he didn’t need it. The man had more talent in one pinky than most photographers with big names backing them. Jackson saw things. A bride wasn’t beautiful because she’d put on new makeup and had a fancy dress. She was beautiful because of the way she glanced over at her husband when she didn’t think or care if anyone else was watching. Those were the moments Jackson had a knack for catching.

  Gigi parked her little black Honda Civic in the gravel drive, then turned off the car. She sat there, her fingertips tapping her thighs as she tried to work out her thoughts. When she’d left the restaurant she’d been so certain this was where she needed to be. She knew she needed to tell him they’d figure it out. Whether he stayed here or moved to Dallas, they’d try to make it work. She knew what they had was too special, too unique, to give up on.

  She sat there a few moments more, the words not coming any clearer to her brain, and finally opened the door and stepped out of the car. She shut the door and made her way to the front of his studio, but paused when she saw someone crouched on the front step.

  A woman, small, with long brown hair was leaning against the door. She wrapped her fingers around her key, holding them to her side like a weapon. It wasn’t until she’d gotten all the way to the woman that she realized if she was sitting on the step, then Jackson wasn’t there.

  The woman looked up with wide eyes that kept darting this way and that. She hugged herself harder, her fingertips scratching her arms.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” Gigi asked.

  She merely shook her head yes, then went back to staring at the ground.

  “Do you need help?”

  “No. I’m…uh…I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Who are you waiting for? Maybe I can take you to them?” Gigi had no intention of letting this woman in her vehicle, but she was hoping to learn whatever information she could so she could make the appropriate next move.

  The woman looked at her for a few seconds more, then finally answered. “Jackson. He’s not here, though. I thought he’d be here.”

  Gigi tried to keep her voice non-confrontational, but she couldn’t help but wonder who the hell this woman was. She looked around hoping maybe someone else would be outside, but she didn’t see anyone. She knew Jackson had a security system installed a while back, but did he have cameras in the front? Was there anyway in hell he’d be able to see this strange woman on his doorstep? Gigi really didn’t want to die like this. On her way to telling the man of her dreams she thought she might be in love with him. It’d just be a damn shame.

  She glanced down at the woman and realized how thin she was. Not the normal, I’m just super skinny kind of thin, either. She was sickly thin. The kind of thin that told the world she fought her own inner demons on a daily basis, and wasn’t winning the battle. Gigi’s heart immediately went out to her.

  She jogged back to her car, and searched through her glove compartment. Dammit. All she had to eat were little bags of candy, and that sugary crap would probably make this woman sick, if she even agreed to eat it in the first place. Just as she was about to shut the door, her eye caught the corner of a cereal bar. Not too bad…

  She grabbed the package, silently cursed herself for not having a bottle of water or anything in her car, and then turned and walked back to the woman. She slowly held out the bar, and when the woman didn’t immediately reach for it, she laid it down. She watched as the woman looked at the package, then hesitantly picked it up.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. Go ahead.”

  The woman slowly opened the cereal bar, then took a bite, her mouth moving cautiously. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m so hungry.”

  Gigi nodded, her heart breaking. “What’s your name?”

  The woman took another biter of the bar, then finally looked up at Gigi, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. “LeAnn.”

  Chapter 10

  Jackson had never driven so fast in his life. Gigi had called and told him she was with LeAnn, and the rest had been a blur. He didn’t even remember getting in his truck, but here he was, screeching into the driveway of his studio, both pissed and relieved that Alec had apparently made it there first.

  He jumped out of the truck and ran toward Alec, his eyes frantically searching for Gigi. “What the hell is going on, man?”

  “She’s fine. Stassi went ahead and took her to my house to get her cleaned up. I’m going to head over there in a little bit and see about getting her into a facility, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

  “Where’s—”

  “Gigi’s inside. She called Stassi when she found out it was LeAnn. As soon as we got here she went inside. Said she didn’t want to intrude.”

  Jackson ran his fingers through his hair, some of the tension in his neck and shoulders beginning to ease up.
LeAnn was a sweet woman, but he’d seen enough from his father to know people weren’t themselves when they were messed up. He wouldn’t be able to stomach it if anything ever happened to Gigi. Not on his fucking watch.

  But you won’t be there, will you, pretty boy?

  “I didn’t know LeAnn was missing,” Jackson said, trying to push his father’s voice away.

  “We haven’t been able to find her since the other night. When she called you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it’s not your responsibility. It never was.” Alec shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked upset. Exhausted. “I shouldn’t have asked you to watch over her. I’m her brother. Jen’s her sister, but she has enough on her plate trying to raise Gracie. It should have fallen on me. It was my responsibility. My job. And I failed.”

  Jackson’s heart went out to the guy. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to deal with someone who was sick, especially when that someone didn’t want your help. “You did the best you could. And you’ll do the best you can, now. It’s about the only damn thing you can do.”

  “I know. I know.” Alec crossed his arms, then turned his head toward the studio. “Not that it’s any of my business, but Gigi’s a good girl. She was really tender with LeAnn, and who knows what would have happened if she hadn’t found her…” Alec’s voice cracked a bit. He cleared his throat, then looked back at Jackson. “I’ll never be able to repay her for what she did for my family. You’ve got a good woman, there. Real or not. But if I were you…I’d make damn sure I made it real before it was too late.”

  Jackson bit the inside of his cheek as something heavy filled his chest. He gave Alec a slight nod, then stuck his hand out.

  Alec took Jackson’s hand, shook it, and then pulled him in for a hug.

  Jackson stood in the yard for a few minutes after Alec had left, not sure what to do. He knew he had to go inside and see Gigi. Hell, he wanted to see her. What he didn’t know was what the hell he was supposed to say. A million thoughts ran through his mind, and none of them were good enough. None of them made sense. None of them would make this a damn bit easier.