Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Jacob
I spread the checkered blanket with precision, making sure each corner aligns perfectly with imagined guidelines on the grass. The park is buzzing with life, but I've chosen a secluded spot under an elm tree, its leaves whispering secrets to the breeze. Bella's eyes are wide with appreciation as she takes in the array of finger foods and the chilled bottle of white wine nestled in a bucket of ice.
"Jacob, this is...wow," she stammers, a flush creeping up her cheeks. She's looking at me like I've hung the stars, and my chest swells with pride.
"Only the best for you," I murmur, pouring wine into two glasses. Our fingers brush as I hand her one, and sparks jolt through me, lighting fires in places I try to keep controlled.
We sit close, knees touching, the air between us thick with unsaid words and unfulfilled desires. I'm hyper-aware of her every move, the way her lips part as she savors the wine, the soft exhalation of breath when she leans back against the tree trunk. It's torturous and intoxicating, and I'm a man parched, craving the oasis of her touch.
"Jacob?" Her voice dances on my name, and I realize I've been staring.
"Sorry, just lost in thought." My voice is gruff, betraying the storm within.
Her laugh tinkles, light and carefree, but then she bites her lip—a small, seductive gesture that sends my thoughts spiraling down dangerous paths.
"Tell me more about your job," she prompts, breaking the spell, or maybe weaving a new one.
"X-rays reveal everything hidden beneath the surface," I explain, leaning in closer. "It's all about finding what's broken and helping to fix it."
"Like a detective," she muses, her brown eyes reflecting a world of possibilities.
"Exactly." I nod, feeling exposed yet exhilarated by her interest.
But then, he appears—muscles rippling beneath his too-tight shirt, his stride confident as he zeroes in on us. Bella lights up even more, if that's possible, and it's like a punch to my gut.
"Hey, Bella! Didn't expect to see you here," her trainer says, all charm and gleaming teeth.
"Alex! Yeah, just enjoying the day. This is Jacob," she introduces me, and I can't miss the way Alex's gaze flickers over me, sizing me up.
"Nice to meet you, man," Alex extends his hand, but there's a challenge in his eyes.
"Likewise." My reply is curt, my handshake firm, maybe too firm, but I don't care. I don't like the way he looks at Bella, like he knows her too well.
Bella chats away, oblivious to the silent standoff taking place. Alex's presence looms over our perfect picnic like a dark cloud threatening rain. He's too close to her, his body language too familiar. Every fiber of my being screams that he doesn't have the right—that only I should be this close, that my hands should be the ones guiding her, holding her.
"Jacob? Is everything okay?" Bella's voice cuts through my mounting jealousy, and I plaster on a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes.
"Everything's great," I lie smoothly, my grip on my glass so tight it might shatter. "Just enjoying the view."
And I am—the view of her, not him. But I make no move, say no word. After all, the best x-ray tech knows when to wait for the right moment to see beneath the surface.
The fucking trainer finally beat it, but he put a damper on the perfect date I’d planned for Bella.
It’s already over, and there was not enough time with her.
"Let's stay in touch," Bella says as start to pack up, a spark lighting up her brown eyes. She digs through her bag and pulls out her phone. "What's your number?"
I hesitate just a hair too long. It's an act, all of it. The number I've memorized from the forms at the clinic rests heavy in my thoughts, but she doesn't need to know that. Not yet. Instead, I pretend to type her number into my phone even though it’s already there, and then I rattle off my own digits, watching her thumbs dance over her screen.
"Got it," she beams, and there's something about that smile that hits me right in the gut—warm, like sunshine breaking through clouds.
"Shoot me a text so we can make sure we’re solid," I say, keeping my voice steady despite the electric hum that buzzes under my skin.
"Done." My phone chimes almost immediately in my pocket, and I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. It's like some kind of victory, even though I'm playing a game she doesn't even know we're in.
"Expect a message from me soon," I tell her, and I mean it. I'll craft every word carefully, toeing the line between keen and casual. I'm good at that—waiting, watching, making sure every move is precise.
"Looking forward to it," she replies, oblivious to the storm of thoughts whirling inside me.
I watch her stand, stretching her athletic limbs, and my eyes trace the contours of her body with a hunger that's hard to mask. The air between us crackles with something raw, something primal, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to pull her back down and show her just how much I've been paying attention.
But patience is a virtue, or so they say. And me? Well, I’m nothing if not meticulous.