As Hot as It Gets
Page 76
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Mia, who hadn’t said a thing during the last five minutes, suddenly let out a snort. “And why do you think that is, Tiff?”
The blonde shifted on the hard wooden bench, visibly ill at ease. “I don’t like bein’ the center of attention, is all.”
Jackson felt Mia’s body stiffen with disbelief, and he quickly rested his hand on her thigh and gave it a reassuring stroke.
Unfortunately, his attempt at calming her down didn’t work.
“And you think Jackson likes it?” Mia shot back. “Do you realize how humiliating this is for him? Everywhere he goes people look at him like he’s either a sexual deviant or a ra**st—you think that’s fun for him?”
“Mia,” he said quietly.
“No,” she burst out. “I can’t stand the way they’re just sitting here, acting like all this shit isn’t their fault.” She glared at the other couple. “Well, guess what, dum-dums, it’s directly your fault.”
Shane and Tiffany recoiled.
“Mia,” Jackson started again.
Her hands trembled as she wrapped them around her beer bottle. “Don’t worry, I’m done,” she muttered.
“Listen, I get what you’re sayin’,” Tiffany told Mia in a wobbly voice. “I messed up, okay? I shouldn’t have lied eight years ago, and Shane shouldn’t have done what he did. But we’ve moved past it. We—”
“Okay, I’m not done,” Mia interrupted in another explosion of incredulity. “You’ve moved past it? Well, golly gee, how wonderful for you, Tiffany. You accused your boyfriend of rape, a lie that led to him getting beaten senseless by his own brother, but life goes on, huh? You just married the other brother and now you’re living happily ever after. Doesn’t matter that Jackson is treated like a pariah by everyone in town, or that he and your husband haven’t spoken in years—as long as you’ve moved past it…well, congratu-fucking-lations, Tiffany.”
Deafening silence crashed over them. Jackson noticed in dismay that half the bar patrons were looking their way, and even though the jukebox belted out an up-tempo Garth Brooks song, a flurry of whispers could be heard over the music.
“I want to go home now.”
Tiffany’s meek voice brought a sigh to Jackson’s lips.
His brother, whose expression had remained shuttered throughout Mia’s entire tirade, wasted no time ushering out his shaken wife from the booth.
Mia gave Jackson’s leg a little push. “I want to leave too,” she said tersely. “I can’t spend another second with these people.”
He’d never felt so helpless in his life as he followed Mia out of the bar. Her petite body radiated anger, and he didn’t know whether to be touched or upset. He shared in her frustration—he’d always resented the fact that Tiff and his brother had come out of that dreadful situation unscathed, while he’d been hung out to dry. But he’d held his tongue for his parents’ sake, to spare them from another potentially violent altercation between the two sons they desperately loved.
Fuck. Bringing Mia and Tiff along tonight had been a bad idea. He should’ve spoken to Shane alone, dang it.
He hadn’t expected Mia to jump to his defense like that, but he couldn’t fault her for it. He’d been too agitated to regain control of the situation, and regrettably, it had gotten out of hand.
But he would find a way to get his brother alone. He had to, for everyone’s sake. His and Mia’s flight didn’t leave until noon tomorrow, so he was confident he’d be able to speak to Shane before they left.
Not tonight, though. Tonight he needed to get Mia home, pronto. She was too volatile at the moment.
Far more volatile than he’d thought, in fact—because the second they stepped outside, they encountered a sobbing Tiffany in Shane’s arms. And the second Mia overheard Tiffany’s muffled words, she exploded like a cannon again.
“It’s not like what they’re sayin’ ain’t true,” Jackson’s ex had mumbled. “He is a deviant! I know that now—I was young ’n stupid back then and I didn’t realize how wrong what we were doin’ was—”
“You’re a goddamn liar,” Mia spat out, advancing on Tiffany like a lioness protecting her cub.
The couple broke apart, but while Shane’s expression flickered with wariness, Tiffany’s blue eyes had taken on an incensed glint.
“You don’t even know me!” she snapped in response. “Who the heck are you to come here and call me a liar? You know nothin’ about me or Shane or even Jackson, for that matter! You’re a nosy city girl who thinks she’s better than a country hick like me, is that it? Well, you’re not better! You’re just a judgmental bitch who—”
Before Jackson could blink, Mia’s small fist soared through the air and punched his ex-girlfriend right in the face.
Mia had never hit another living soul in her entire life. She didn’t use violence to solve problems—she wasn’t that kind of girl. Or at least she hadn’t thought she was.
But clearly she was the person who slugged someone for calling her a bitch.
Sheer mortification flooded her body as she saw Tiffany’s head snap back from the force of the blow. Mia’s breaths were shallow pants, and the guilt that streaked through her veins caused her hands to shake ferociously.
“Oh my God,” she burst out. “Oh, Christ. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
The blonde shifted on the hard wooden bench, visibly ill at ease. “I don’t like bein’ the center of attention, is all.”
Jackson felt Mia’s body stiffen with disbelief, and he quickly rested his hand on her thigh and gave it a reassuring stroke.
Unfortunately, his attempt at calming her down didn’t work.
“And you think Jackson likes it?” Mia shot back. “Do you realize how humiliating this is for him? Everywhere he goes people look at him like he’s either a sexual deviant or a ra**st—you think that’s fun for him?”
“Mia,” he said quietly.
“No,” she burst out. “I can’t stand the way they’re just sitting here, acting like all this shit isn’t their fault.” She glared at the other couple. “Well, guess what, dum-dums, it’s directly your fault.”
Shane and Tiffany recoiled.
“Mia,” Jackson started again.
Her hands trembled as she wrapped them around her beer bottle. “Don’t worry, I’m done,” she muttered.
“Listen, I get what you’re sayin’,” Tiffany told Mia in a wobbly voice. “I messed up, okay? I shouldn’t have lied eight years ago, and Shane shouldn’t have done what he did. But we’ve moved past it. We—”
“Okay, I’m not done,” Mia interrupted in another explosion of incredulity. “You’ve moved past it? Well, golly gee, how wonderful for you, Tiffany. You accused your boyfriend of rape, a lie that led to him getting beaten senseless by his own brother, but life goes on, huh? You just married the other brother and now you’re living happily ever after. Doesn’t matter that Jackson is treated like a pariah by everyone in town, or that he and your husband haven’t spoken in years—as long as you’ve moved past it…well, congratu-fucking-lations, Tiffany.”
Deafening silence crashed over them. Jackson noticed in dismay that half the bar patrons were looking their way, and even though the jukebox belted out an up-tempo Garth Brooks song, a flurry of whispers could be heard over the music.
“I want to go home now.”
Tiffany’s meek voice brought a sigh to Jackson’s lips.
His brother, whose expression had remained shuttered throughout Mia’s entire tirade, wasted no time ushering out his shaken wife from the booth.
Mia gave Jackson’s leg a little push. “I want to leave too,” she said tersely. “I can’t spend another second with these people.”
He’d never felt so helpless in his life as he followed Mia out of the bar. Her petite body radiated anger, and he didn’t know whether to be touched or upset. He shared in her frustration—he’d always resented the fact that Tiff and his brother had come out of that dreadful situation unscathed, while he’d been hung out to dry. But he’d held his tongue for his parents’ sake, to spare them from another potentially violent altercation between the two sons they desperately loved.
Fuck. Bringing Mia and Tiff along tonight had been a bad idea. He should’ve spoken to Shane alone, dang it.
He hadn’t expected Mia to jump to his defense like that, but he couldn’t fault her for it. He’d been too agitated to regain control of the situation, and regrettably, it had gotten out of hand.
But he would find a way to get his brother alone. He had to, for everyone’s sake. His and Mia’s flight didn’t leave until noon tomorrow, so he was confident he’d be able to speak to Shane before they left.
Not tonight, though. Tonight he needed to get Mia home, pronto. She was too volatile at the moment.
Far more volatile than he’d thought, in fact—because the second they stepped outside, they encountered a sobbing Tiffany in Shane’s arms. And the second Mia overheard Tiffany’s muffled words, she exploded like a cannon again.
“It’s not like what they’re sayin’ ain’t true,” Jackson’s ex had mumbled. “He is a deviant! I know that now—I was young ’n stupid back then and I didn’t realize how wrong what we were doin’ was—”
“You’re a goddamn liar,” Mia spat out, advancing on Tiffany like a lioness protecting her cub.
The couple broke apart, but while Shane’s expression flickered with wariness, Tiffany’s blue eyes had taken on an incensed glint.
“You don’t even know me!” she snapped in response. “Who the heck are you to come here and call me a liar? You know nothin’ about me or Shane or even Jackson, for that matter! You’re a nosy city girl who thinks she’s better than a country hick like me, is that it? Well, you’re not better! You’re just a judgmental bitch who—”
Before Jackson could blink, Mia’s small fist soared through the air and punched his ex-girlfriend right in the face.
Mia had never hit another living soul in her entire life. She didn’t use violence to solve problems—she wasn’t that kind of girl. Or at least she hadn’t thought she was.
But clearly she was the person who slugged someone for calling her a bitch.
Sheer mortification flooded her body as she saw Tiffany’s head snap back from the force of the blow. Mia’s breaths were shallow pants, and the guilt that streaked through her veins caused her hands to shake ferociously.
“Oh my God,” she burst out. “Oh, Christ. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
