3. Pippi #2
Either way, Nessie was always called the whiskey monster—that only really existed at the bottom of a bottle.
Until it’d been found—for real—a few years ago, chilling by a small hunk of land in the North Sea—a place that emanated so much magic, it killed any scrap of technology that came near it.
A jumble of rocks and trees now known as Niverwick Isle.
Nessie was the reason the isle became the talk of the town. The reason people siphoned more than $10K from their bank accounts for a week’s stay.
Nearly every person in my life wanted to go to the isle, but not a single one could afford it. Jessa lamented at least once a month that the Niverwick experience would be forever out of her reach.
If the price was all-inclusive, maybe it wouldn’t have been so terrible.
But no. That $10K price tag got you a room for a week .
If you wanted food or drinks, you could pick from one of the two overpriced restaurants on the isle.
Activities and tours were extra. And there was zero option to stay for less than a week to cut down on costs because the ship only sailed on Sundays.
So you had to book from Sunday to Sunday. No exceptions.
And if someone had a medical emergency while on the island? Lucky for them, there was a health clinic on site. Most insurances wouldn’t cover the stay though, since it was run by Sorcerer Healers instead of Standie doctors.
This was an exorbitantly priced vacation destination. No bones about it. The kind only rich folk could enjoy.
And here was Jackson, telling me all we had to pay was the air fare. And a few extras .
“Babe?” Jackson huffed. “Did you space out on me?”
I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at our fridge, and tilted my chin back to him, plastering a smile on my face. “A little. I think I’m just…”
Confused.
Disappointed.
“Overwhelmed,” I said.
Jackson beamed and drank the last of his wine. “Weren’t expecting to come home to this, were ya?”
“No…” I dragged the o out slightly. Nooooo. “This is?—”
“Huge. Right?” He jittered.
“Absolutely. But I guess I’m a little…”
His happy energy soured.
“It’s not bad,” I said quickly. “Promise. I’m…It’s…Are you sure we can afford this, Jackson?”
Indignation fanned from him. “Did I not say?—”
“I know. I guess I’m confused about the how of it. Like, Jessa’s looked into going?—”
“Jessa?” He puckered his lips. “Is that your shopaholic friend who hemorrhaged her life savings?”
“That’s not fair,” I said. “She put a lot of money into her mom’s care, and you know that.”
He raised his hand in a “point taken” gesture.
“But, anyway, Jessa has been dying to go to Niverwick. Every time some travel place offers a package deal, she snags a quote. And it’s always extravagant .”
“Sure it is.” Jackson rolled his shoulder. “If they dropped the prices, the place would be more crowded than an amusement park. They gotta keep the riffraff out somehow.”
Riffraff.
As in, people like us. Who didn’t have ten or more thousand smackeroos to drop on a vacation. And I must’ve made a face at that because Jackson mumbled an irritated, “You know what I mean, babe.”
I didn’t. But I nodded. Because he was excited, and his joy was infectious, and I wanted to bask in it. But…
“How?” I softened the question with a nuzzling kiss to his chin.
“Zohar. You know, my manager.” He blew out a gusty sigh.
Because I must’ve made a face at him. Again. “Right. Yes. Of course.” I just didn’t quite see what Jackson’s supervisor had to do with this trip.
“He and his wife have gone every year since opening, and he’d pre-booked this year. But I guess his wife got a bug up her ass and decided she wanted to go to Berlin instead. Imagine that, babe— Berlin, over Niverwick Isle.”
Oh, I could imagine it alright.
I, too, would rather take a one week furlough in Berlin.
“Anyway, he went to cancel the trip, but it was too close?—”
“Too close?”
“—for him to get a refund, so he was out the money anyway. And since I’d closed on the Serphent account for the company, he offered the trip to me. Me .” He popped up from his half seated position on the island and tapped his heels against the floor.
And I gaped .
Jackson worked sales—for grocery chains, mostly—bidding brands to different retailers. Serphent, one of the biggest grocer chains that sold exclusively to Sorcerers, had been a massive win for Jackson six months ago. Especially since he’d been a Standie who’d closed the deal.
I’d been a little—okay, a lot—miffed that he’d never gotten a raise for that. Zohar had thrown Jackson a piddly little pizza party and called it a year.
As if reading my mind, Jackson wagged his finger at me. “You see, babe, I told you Zohar had something big for me coming down the pipeline, but you didn’t believe me, did you?”
“I did ?—”
“And I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet! The booking”—Jackson created a mini drumroll with his heels—“is May first.”
“May? That’s two weeks away!”
“Sure is!” Jackson exclaimed.
“I-I don’t…I might not be able to get that time off.”
“You’ve got PTO in the bank, right?”
“Of course, but?—”
“They’ve gotta give it to you then, babe. Just put the request in tomorrow.”
“And if it’s not approved? I just told you we’re dealing with a crisis.”
Jackson waved his hand dismissively. “It will be. It’s not like you’re the PM on the account. They’ll manage just fine without you. C’mon, babe! Don’t worry about it. ‘ Don’t worry, be happy ,’” he trilled in a Bob Marley impression.
I snorted.
He smirked, plonked his wine glass down on the island, and gave my butt a friendly pinch.
And my snort turned into a full-scale laugh. Because his giddiness had twined around my belly, twisting it into a spinning dance that left my whole body fluttering.
That was what it felt like, anyway.
But the apprehensive knot tying up my chest refused to loosen.
“I am still a little worried,” I started.
“Ugh, babe .” Jackson groaned.
“Just of…I mean…I have to get on a ship ?”
Jackson sighed gustily as he dropped to one knee in front of me—a very showboat move?—
and grabbed my free hand, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to it. “I know you had that incident when you were a kid?—”
“I almost drowned.”
“But the ocean is not some big bad out to get ya. Okay? And the ship has life preservers. You won’t drown, I promise.” He smooched the back of my knuckles, threw on his handsome boyish grin, and said, “Would you, Pippi Long?—”
Oh yeah . Dear old mom went there with my name.
“—do me the honor of accompanying me on this grand excursion to Niverwick Isle?”
How could I tell this man no? When he was on his knees before me, looking so unbelievably, painfully, handsome?
When he was so excited?
I’d get over my fear of the ocean. I’d shove it aside, beat it with a stick, do whatever I had to do to get it out of my head, and make this vacation epic for him.
“Yes. Absolutely.” I tucked my wine glass more firmly against my chest. “I do have one condition, though.”
His blue eyes peered up at me inquisitively.
And stars above, if he wasn’t an exquisite sight, with the tight, form-fitting sleeves of his button-down rolled to his elbows, letting the veins and muscled definition of his forearms pop.
My belly somersaulted again.
An impish grin tilted up Jackson’s face. I wondered if he could feel my arousal—the way my heart had quickened and the heavy heat that’d settled low, low in my stomach.
Because the feverish desire pouring off him was staggering. Lovely. Hot . Goodness, it was hot. It overwhelmed me, consumed me, fanning the aching heat in my belly until I squirmed.
“Yes?” His eyes dragged along my body, savoring me. “Your condition is?”
“Well, I’ve had a really long day. As you know.”
“Hmmmm.” He suckled at the back of my knuckles—a move that could’ve, and should’ve, looked obscene. But he made it seductive. Made me imagine that mouth suckling on other parts of my body—parts that were now screaming with want.
“I could use a massage”
“Oh, could you?” Jackson huffed playfully.
“Hmm-hmmm. And maybe a nice hot bath.”
“Sounds wonderful .”
“And you know what’d really make my day better? If I could find a hunky guy who’d be willing to assist me with all that. Do you happen to know a guy who’d do that for me, Jackson?”
Jackson’s hand slid up, up, up . His hot, soft fingers snuck under my blouse, tracing alluring patterns over my belly.
Patterns that had my muscles bunching and left me panting.
“I think I know of a guy. And lucky you”—his hand grazed the underside of my left breast—“he’s available tonight.
And the only payment he requires”—he pinched my nipple—“is a blow job.”