Chapter 6
Chapter Six
J ack
I’m not a suit guy.
Give me a flannel, jeans, and a quiet day in the shop, and I’m good. Weddings? Not so much.
But tonight, I’m wearing a goddamn tie—and Holly Dawson is to blame.
She walks into the lodge ballroom like she owns the mountain. Hair twisted up, dress clinging to every curve, mouth glossed and smirking like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
And maybe she does.
Because my palms itch. My jaw’s tight. And every single person at this wedding is suddenly an obstacle between me and the woman currently pretending to be my date.
Fake. This whole thing is fake.
Right.
Except when she loops her arm through mine and leans in close, her breath warm against my jaw.
“Smile, Jack,” she whispers. “You look like you’re about to bite someone.”
“I might,” I mutter. “Starting with you.”
She grins. “That supposed to scare me?”
“Wasn’t meant to.”
She leans in a little more, pressing against me like she’s playing a game. “Good.”
I’ve made furniture with less tension than what’s building between us.
Dinner is a blur. Too many people. Too much noise. Too much of her skin brushing mine every time she laughs at something that isn’t remotely funny. And when I feel her hand rest on my thigh under the table, I damn near forget how to breathe.
“You’re playing with fire,” I murmur, low enough that only she hears.
Her fingers tighten slightly. “You’re the one who brought a match to the wedding.”
I turn my head. Our eyes lock. Something pulses hot and dangerous between us.
“Keep it up and I’ll show you exactly what happens when I burn.”
She just smiles and pops a piece of bread into her mouth. Tease.
Later, when the music starts, I think I’ll get a reprieve.
Wrong.
“You owe me a dance,” she says, standing and offering her hand.
I blink. “I don’t dance.”
“You do tonight.”
I stare at her for three full seconds. She doesn’t flinch. Not even a little.
God, I hate how much I like that.
I take her hand and let her lead me to the floor, where couples sway under strings of lights. She turns to face me, smug and stunning, and places my hand on her waist.
“This is the part where you pretend to be having a good time.”
“I don’t fake anything,” I say, pulling her closer. “Including this.”
She stumbles slightly when our bodies meet, and her hands land on my chest. Her eyes flick up, and something shifts. The teasing fades. Her lips part.
My fingers flex against the small of her back. She’s warm, soft, infuriatingly close. I shouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t even think about doing it.
But then she tilts her face up, and I’m gone.
I lower my head. Brush my lips against hers. Not a kiss— a warning.
She gasps, and I take it deeper.
Our fake relationship shatters in that moment.
There’s nothing fake about the way she melts into me. Nothing fake about the soft sound she makes in the back of her throat. Nothing fake about the way her fingers curl into my jacket like she needs me.
When we break apart, her eyes are wide, glazed, and her lips are swollen.
“Jack…” she whispers, breathless.
“We’re not faking that again,” I growl.
Her mouth opens, then shuts. She looks… flustered. Like she’s trying to catch up with something her body figured out five minutes ago.
I smirk. “That’s what I thought.”
She doesn’t say a word the rest of the night.
But when we get back to the cabin, she’s still quiet. Still flushed. She kicks off her heels by the door and heads for the hallway.
I follow. “You gonna say something?”
She turns. “What do you want me to say?”
“That you felt it.”
She swallows. “I did.”
Silence.
“But I can’t,” she adds.
My chest tightens. “Can’t what?”
Her gaze flicks away. “This. Us. It’s complicated.”
“Bullshit.” I take a step closer. “You want me. I know it. You know it. Every damn person at that wedding knew it.”
“I’m not ready, Jack.”
“Then tell me what this is.” I motion between us. “Tell me why that kiss felt like setting off dynamite.”
She looks up at me, and for a second, I swear she’s going to cave.
But then she steps back. “Goodnight, Jack.”
I watch her disappear down the hallway.
And all I can think is: she’s hiding something. And I’m done pretending I don’t want to find out what.