Free Hurricanes and Handcuffs: A Red Hot Cajun Nights Story by Jodi Redford

sleeping on. Sinking onto the edge of the mattress, she picked up the pillow and hugged it to her chest. Heartsick and miserable, she curled into a ball and cried until her eyes felt swollen and scratchy.
    She’d known that leaving Jax would be the toughest thing she’d ever do, but nothing could have prepared her for this aching loneliness. She hadn’t even technically left yet. What the hell was it going to be like not seeing him every day?
    Nausea sloshed in her stomach. Pressing trembling fingers to her mouth, she rolled onto her back and gazed blankly at the ceiling. She hadn’t even factored in where she was going to stay. How stupid was that? She’d just known she couldn’t continue to live under the same roof as Jax without eventually caving to either his seductive machinations or her foolish heart.
    Her mom likely wouldn’t mind her moving in for a while until she found an apartment. But first she’d have to find a job. And from the looks of things, Jax’s recommendation wouldn’t be forthcoming. A hiccup, certainly, but she’d make do. Not like she didn’t have other references.
    Sniffling, she pushed up from the bed and filled the suitcase with a week’s worth of clothes and everything else she’d need for the time being. Deciding it best to leave the bag out of sight until she clocked out from work, she ditched her robe and pulled on jeans and her old U of M sweatshirt. After brushing her teeth and putting on the minimal amount of makeup to hide the evidence of her crying jag, she headed downstairs.
    The kitchen was empty—both a relief and a surprise. She’d half expected Jax to be waiting there for her, armed with some seductive ploy to talk her out of quitting. Then again, should it surprise her that he evidently didn’t give a crap? Sure, he’d seemed upset earlier. For a minute there, even devastated. And it’d killed her, thinking that she might be hurting him. But then reality had quickly burst that ridiculous bubble. Her quitting was only an inconvenience to Jax. Yes, she didn’t doubt that he’d miss her. But he’d sure as hell get over her a lot faster than it’d take for her to recover from this.
    Assuming she’d ever fully recover. Twenty-five years of loving Jax wouldn’t miraculously vanish overnight.
    Theresa and her ladies showed up around ten and the next several hours were filled with the noisy din of vacuum cleaners and floor polishers banishing the messy remains of last night’s party. Gabbi didn’t leave her post in the kitchen until close to twelve-thirty. She probably should have asked Jax ahead of time what he wanted for lunch, but nerves and her aching heart had talked her into prolonging the inevitable confrontation.
    Tightness pressing against her sternum, she made her way to his office. Empty. Sighing, she crossed to his desk and pressed the intercom button. “Paging Mr. Noble. Please come see me in your office.” She rarely used the formality of his surname. It felt odd rolling off her tongue.
    Perching on the end of the leather sofa, she folded her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting. Everything in this room was a tormenting reminder of Jax. It even smelled like him. No doubt his cologne had seeped into the mahogany paneling. A special gift to keep her senses reeling. Lightheaded and lovesick, she stared at the telephone, willing it to ring. Two seconds later, it did, making her jump. Scolding her nerves, she pushed up from the couch and forced herself to walk calmly to his desk. She picked up on the fourth ring. “Jax?”
    “Gabbi, it’s Malcom. Mr. Noble needs you to run an errand for him. I’m supposed to drive you.”
    She blinked at the blotter on Jax’s desk. “An errand?” What the hell? Wasn’t that just like him, totally disregarding the fact that it was freakin’ lunchtime. “Does it have to be done right this minute?”
    “Yes. He was very adamant about that.”
    Of course he was. Typical. “Well, what am I doing? Grocery