Chapter 7Jack
Chapter 7
Jack
As a rule, I don’t enjoy first dates.
In my experience, they’re too formal. Too stuffy. Women get all nervous, and I usually have to try extra hard to make them laugh, and the whole thing just feels like too much work.
But the dinner I just experienced had none of those traits.
I can't believe it when the moon floats up over the ocean, out beyond the Tiki Grille’s outdoor seating area.
“How did it get so late?” I ask as I collect my card from the leather-bound check holder. Our server must have returned it a while ago, but I barely noticed.
I was too caught up in conversation with my date.
I don’t even know her name. Somehow, we missed ticking that box, and it felt weird to return to it now that I know so many other, more important things about her.
I know she’s modest, humble, and compassionate.
Very quiet, too. If I don’t ask her a question multiple times, she won’t answer. But I love it when she finally does open up. She’s smart, witty, and sweet.
I know her smile is stunning, and her eyes sparkle when she speaks about books, animals, or her close friends.
She works from home, writing. She prefers quiet and solitude over big crowds. She likes crossword puzzles but hates sudoku. She’d rather order takeout than cook. She’s hiked a bunch of mountains back east.
She hasn’t traveled much. This is her first time on an island.
“What time is it, anyway?” she murmurs, twisting to grab her handbag off the back of her chair. She rummages inside and comes out with her phone. “Oh, my goodness... Nine o’clock already. And we didn’t even get photos yet!”
Her soft laughter lets me know she’s not at all upset.
She had as much fun as I did, lingering here.
“Okay, are you ready?” She hops out of her seat and positions herself by the rope barrier designating the restaurant’s end. “Let’s get the moon in there. It’s perfect because if I send these out tonight, they’ll be on my mom’s phone when she wakes up.”
I step in beside her.
I promised charm. That was back before I knew just how easy it would be, to act the part of this woman’s boyfriend.
It feels way too good to put my arm around her shoulder. Heat buzzes through my veins when we get our cheeks to touch. I have to crouch, and she’s up on her tiptoes. She holds the phone out as far as she can.
Her skin’s delightfully warm and carries the scent of coconuts. I feel her cheek move as she smiles.
“A few more…” Her thumb works the phone expertly. She clicks away.
I don’t care if this takes all night.
I’ll stay here like this, happily, for as long as she wants.
“Okay… I think I got it.”
Her layered bangs fall over her face as she bows her head over the screen. A few seconds later, she looks up to give me a quick smile. “I sent you a few of the good ones. To your Gmail.”
“Sweet,” I answer, though it’s hard to focus on words while looking at her.
Her amber eyes are filled with warmth. Moonlight frames her face. Her black sundress hugs her curves.
Have I ever met a woman who takes my breath away like she does?
No.
Never.
This woman does something to me. I haven’t wrapped my head around it, and I don't have time to right now because the server is carrying a sandwich board sign inside the seating area.
“Closing down for the night, folks!” she chirps. “Hope you have a great evening!”
My date—I really have to ask for her name soon—leads the way toward the ocean. We pause on the walkway that overlooks the stretch of beach. White sand slopes down to the waves.
“I better get a photo of this, too.” She raises her phone.
I grab mine as well and peek at my email while she takes photographs. There’s her message, with the photos of us.
It’s powerful, in an unexpected way, to see the snapshots.
We look really good as a couple. Really happy together. Well, that was the goal, wasn’t it? Happy-couple photos…
We nailed it.
In the photograph, her dimples mirror my own. Her wavy, light brown hair sweeps across her brow. My own shaggy do is a little wild-looking, and I have a huge, goofy, happy smile.
I post it to Instagram, with the text: ‘Vacay vibes.’
Let the viewers think what they will.
It doesn’t surprise me when one of Jess’ friends gives the post a heart and then drops a comment. “OMG, who is she?! You two look so happy together!”
Jess is in the Insta game, just like me. She’ll see this post any minute now if she hasn’t already.
I thought my plan was to get my dignity back. But tonight turned out to be about more than just plotting and scheming.
When I look up, it’s so nice to see her standing there, still snapping shots of the moon. My fake girlfriend. All this happy couple posing aside, she really does make me feel good.
She tucks her phone away. We walk without talking for a few minutes. Waves break on the shore to our left. Birds sing as they settle in for the night.
When a curve in the path allows for a view of the bungalows, I see that most of them are lit up from within.
“This one’s mine,” she says as we near a one-bedroom unit painted pale pink.
“I hope she likes the first round of photos. Your mom, I mean.”
“Thanks. I am sure she will.”
It’s absolutely adorable when she looks down at our feet. Her eyelashes are a thick fringe. She nips her lower lip and hesitates. “Can I… should I… I mean, how do you want to handle tomorrow?”
Her eyes flick up back to mine.
I want to spend all day with you, I think, as I take a step up and meet her on the front stoop.
Her question hangs between us.
I should answer her.
Just a simple answer. A couple of words to address the logistics she asked about. “Give me a shout.” Or “Let’s meet again at the hot tub at five.” Whatever.
That would make sense.
I think that’s what she expects .
But it’s not what she wants .
She wants what I want. I can sense that, as clearly as if she said the words: “Please, kiss me.”
She draws in a breath, then smooths her lips together.
She’s waiting.
Somehow, as we watch each other and as the seconds tick past, what’s about to happen becomes more and more inevitable.
How could we not kiss after the day we just had?
It’s almost like this moment has been in the cards since we spotted each other in the lobby.
I step closer to her. “Can I…?” My voice is a throaty rasp.
I don’t have to spell out what I’m asking permission for because she knows .
She presses her lips together again. When they part, they’re glistening. Her eyes carry the faintest whisper of concern. One eyebrow tucks in.
She searches my eyes. “Yes…?”
I draw in a breath because now that I’m even closer to her, the desire flooding me is almost too strong.
If I’m not careful, I’ll pin her to the door behind her.
I don’t want to frighten her. She’s too quiet and sweet for that.
So, I take another breath to steady my nerves. I try to control the fire of desire raging in my depths.
I lift my hand and carefully slip it under her ear so I’m cupping her neck. When I lower my face to hers so that our lips almost touch, she gasps.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“Don’t be.” This is the best moment of my life.
“I’m not good at this.”
“I think you're perfect.” Our lips are so close. I close the gap delicately, carefully.
I don’t want to scare her.
My lips sink into hers. I let my thumb move along her jawline, just beneath her ear. I step in closer… because she tastes so good, I can’t help but want to be closer.
All that self-restraint I promised myself slips away. But she’s backing up, all on her own, too. I feel her hand climb up my back. With a soft thud, she hits up against the door.
Our lips move hungrily now. This kiss was inevitable, and now all the moments leading up to it are like momentum, propelling us both. We can’t stop ourselves.
Her desire makes mine stronger. She parts her sweet, soft lips, and I let myself deepen the kiss. My heart’s pounding, my blood rushing.
My whole body is flooded with need.
It takes every ounce of control I have to back away.
She’s as breathless as I am. I drag a ragged gulp of air in and push my fingertips through my hair.
That kiss… it felt like a hurricane.
An unstoppable force of nature.
I’m trying to pick up some of the pieces of my life. Where am I again? What am I doing?
The textured, pink-painted stucco behind her gives me my first clue. Her bungalow. She has to go in, and I have to go to mine… the one I’m sharing with my brother and his family.
I have to go to my own bed.
I repeat that line to myself because it’s a necessity that I reign in the wild bucking bronco of my desire, which is right now giving me the exact opposite advice.
I take risks. As a habit, I go all in. I operate in the moment.
And in this moment, I want her.
“That was… wow ,” she says, as she smooths a lock of hair back. “I… hm. Okaaaay then. I guess—I guess I better get inside.”
Maybe she’s fighting the same battle I am.
She fumbles with the key card but manages to swipe it correctly. She pushes her door open.
“Wait.” I croak.
She turns to me.
Her eyes are wide. A warm glow infuses her skin. She’s still trying to catch her breath.
She places a hand on her chest. “If you kiss me like that again, I will say or do something stupid because that was too… I mean I, I want… Nope! Not going there.” She waves her hand, batting off some errant thought. “I just think, better if…”
“No, no, I know.” I step backward so she knows I won’t go in for another kiss. “I get that. I just—I don’t know your name. Somehow, we didn’t get to that.”
“Oh! Oh my gosh, you’re right. Here I’ve been thinking of you as Stunt Devil all night, or Mr. —”
She stops abruptly and waves her hand again. “Never mind. Not important. Ha.”
Her smile reaches her eyes. “I’m Hazel. Hazel Thorpe.”