Chapter Sixteen
“Are you nervous about the harvest dinner coming up in two weeks?” I ask, washing out our wine glasses after dinner.
Jack slides the back door shut and flips up the lock. “A little. It’s all the same pressure that I wanted to escape from to begin with.”
“Is there anything I need to know before we go? There isn’t some random, distant cousin hell-bent on taking down Jack Bradley, right?” I say, partly sarcastic but slightly serious, considering the recent events that have unfolded.
“I hope not.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Actually, I’m not.” He laughs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there were.”
After drying off the glasses, I put them back into the cupboard. “If there is, lucky for you, I’m here to defend your honor.” I bend in a playful curtsey.
“Oh really?” Jack leans back on the counter next to me, boxing me into the space between the refrigerator and his body. He crosses his arms and dips his head, turning it toward me.
“Yes.” My heart is pounding in my chest. He’s only wearing a black T-shirt, but the heat radiating from him is almost unbearable.
“And how do you plan on doing that?” he challenges in a soft whisper.
Oh god.What am I supposed to say? I can’t tell him all the things I’d like to do to him that have nothing to do with defending his honor. “I’m your girlfriend. That’s what I’m supposed to do.” Deciding to dodge the question entirely.
Jack’s jaw flexes. He quickly glances at me, then looks away before meeting my eyes once again. “Technically, you’re my wife.”
My lungs constrict hearing him call me that. “I guess that’s true.”
“I’d love to hear your take on what wives are supposed to do.”
I start to sweat, unsure of what to say. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been married before.”
“I guess I’m lucky to be your first then. Can’t wait for the day when we start acting like it.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “Acting like what?”
“Do you need me to explain to you all the things that married couples get to do with each other?”
“Are you tempting me?” I back away, creating space between us to breathe effectively.
“Maybe.”
“I thought you didn’t want any distractions?” My eyes scour the room for a quick escape from the tension.
“A distraction—or two might not hurt.” Jack arches an eyebrow.
I can slip into the bathroom—which has been my only relief since I’ve arrived here. “I’m going to get ready for bed. It’s getting late.”
Hearing wife at first sounded strange, almost an empty random word without connection to me. But this time, the word fell from his mouth with intention and purpose. Like a reminder of who I belong to. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants while Jack smiles, giving me a quick nod.
I slide between him and the counter in the shoebox-sized kitchen, sprinting right for the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I let my back mold into it. One hand grips my stomach while I bring the other to my chest to soothe the frantic and erratic beats of my heart.
Things would be much easier if he weren’t a tall, blond heartthrob who jumped out of a teenage poster. I run a damp hand along my face. Gross. I need a shower.
I cautiously open the door, peeking around the corner to make sure Jack isn’t in the bedroom. When I don’t see him, I tiptoe to the dresser to grab my pajamas, then slink back into the bathroom.
I take a long, hot shower. It’s been almost thirty minutes by the time I’m ready to face him again. I change, brush my teeth, throw my hair up, and head out. It’s quiet. I wonder where that tall blonde could be. I creep into the living room, scanning my eyes from the back door all the way around to the kitchen. “Jack?” I call out.
No answer.
Maybe he went out for a run. I grab a glass of water, then head back into the bedroom to check my phone. Lifting it, I immediately see a message from him.
Jack: Went on a run, be back shortly.
I turn around to sit on the edge of the bed and message him back, but then I catch a glimpse of a figure coming toward me. Jerking my head up, I see Jack strutting through the doorway.
“Hey, I’m glad you’re out. I was hoping to hop in once I got back.” He briskly heads toward the bathroom.
Speechless, my eyes drink in the mouth-watering sight of him from head to toe. He’s got on gray joggers that hang low on his waist and a black hoodie. I watch on bated breath as Jack walks toward the bathroom, pulling off his hoodie to expose a thin white T-shirt that’s now completely transparent from sweat. He’s taunting me. His baseball hat is on backward, and he’s out of breath. I’m completely fucking frozen, so I simply nod in acknowledgment.
Once the door closes behind him, the air forces itself from my lungs. What the actual fuck? I need my own villa, or hotel, or even a different goddamn town. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with him in such a confined space when all he does is suck the energy out of every room.
I shake my head back and forth, clearing my thoughts. I just have to get through the rest of the week, and then I’ll be home and away from his … heat.
Until he beckons me out here once again.
Falling into the mound of a fluffy comforter, I clamp my eyes shut, hoping that when I open them, he’ll be fully dressed and out of my sight. But soon, they fly back open, realizing it’s highly unlikely.
I turn off the dim light from the small lamp on the nightstand, then cover myself up. Pulling the blankets to my chin, I sink into the soft mattress of the large king-sized bed. I curl into a fetal position and wish for the solitude of sleep.
Only a few minutes later, I hear Jack’s slow footsteps on the carpet next to the bed. A clean, refreshing scent, hits my nose. My mouth waters, imagining tasting his slick skin. Without opening my eyes, I know that he’s standing right next to my face.
“Piper,” he whispers.
“Hmm?” I crack my eyelids open. Jack’s eyes and parted lips are mere inches from my face. My gaze immediately falls to his bare chest. Then, to the small white towel wrapped loosely around his waist. I wonder what else he’s hiding under there besides the ripped abs on his stomach.
“I’m going to sleep on the couch. I’ll see you in the morning.” His smooth, sultry voice liquifies my insides. Everything melts, pooling between my legs. My thighs twitch. I push them together, dulling the ache. It’s been a long time since I’ve used one of my battery-operated friends. I brought one with me, but how the hell am I going to use it with him here?
I rub my lips together, unable to look at anything else but that light piece of cotton that’s separating me from what’s underneath it. I wonder how mad he’d be if I gently yanked it off. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, see you in the morning,” I grit out before rolling over. I’ll spend another night craving to know what it would be like to have his strong arms around me while I sleep. I toss and turn, unable to slow my racing pulse. This is infuriating. How can he smell so fucking delicious and look so effortlessly sexy without even trying? I flip over on my back, cover my face with the pillow, and wait for my nerves to settle or for sleep to come.
I wake up the next morning to the sound of my cell phone buzzing next to my ear. The warmth from the sun gingerly escapes through the thin slats of the closed shutters. Jack is probably up—like always. I roll over and pull my phone from the charger.
Roxy: I need your advice.
Roxy: Where are you?
Roxy: Hello?
Roxy: I need you.
Roxy: Why aren’t you answering?
Roxy: I haven’t seen or spoken to you in a couple of days. You know you can’t do this to me.
Roxy: Fine. I figured you wouldn’t be there for me. You never are. Do you need space again? Whatever. But when I need space from you, you never check on me to see if I’m okay.
I read through these familiar messages first thing in the morning, which effectively kills the buzz I had from dreaming about what Jack was hiding under his white towel. I rub the sides of my temples in a circular motion. Roxy is spiraling again. She goes through these manic-like episodes every few months or so. She’ll become erratic, emotional, and, at times, even hateful. They’ve worsened in the last few years since she moved closer to me again.
I decide to call her back instead of text and, to no surprise, she picks up on the first ring. “Oh, you finally decided to call your mother back,” she snaps.
Rolling my eyes, I sit up straight in bed. “Sorry, I’ve been in Northern California. I told you I was going to be here for a week.”
“I know that. I wasn’t worried. I just needed to talk to you about Rick,” she says.
“Who’s Rick?”
“That older gentleman I met at the exotic car show over the summer.”
“Yeah, okay. What’s up?”
“Now, I kind of don’t want to tell you. I needed you last night. If you would have answered, then you’d get to know,” she whines. This is also something she does. Roxy likes to give me the silent treatment as a form of punishment. This time, she’s threatening to withhold her communication like I need to earn it.
I hear some light banging in the kitchen, followed by the sound of water. Jack is up. I get a little flutter in my stomach and the urge to get off the phone to see him.
“Stop playing games. Just tell me.”
“Fine, if you really want to know, his son and his grandkids want to go to Cabo San Lucas with us next month, but I don’t want them to. I’d like it to be only me and him. We got into an argument about that, and he said that if I’m going to be in his life, then I need to get used to spending time with his kids and their families,” she complains.
Seriously, she is such a child.
“Roxy, there is nothing wrong with that. If anything, you should feel grateful that he has a close relationship with his kids and especially his grandkids. Not everyone does,” I tell her.
“Oh, here we go. Another dig about what a horrible mom I was.” Her voice is pinched, and I can tell she’s getting defensive.
I throw the comforter off and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Sitting up, I hold up my phone with one hand, already mentally drained from such a brief conversation with my mother. “I’m not going to get into this with you. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“That’s how it always goes with you, Piper. You act so ungrateful like you had such a horrible childhood.”
I need to save what’s left of my emotional energy and end this call. “I’m back in town on Sunday, and we can talk then if you’re still upset.” I stand in front of a rectangular mirror that hangs behind the dresser, fluffing my hair and wiping the sleep from my eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry for inconveniencing your life. Don’t bother calling me when you get back!” she shouts before hanging up.
I wish I understood how to talk to her. I replay my own words multiple times in my head before saying them out loud, but it’s no use. And it’s exhausting.
Looking at my reflection, I watch a single tear fall from my eye. Even after all these years of feeling numb to them, her words still hurt parts of me. Jack in the other room is the only thing preventing me from crawling back into bed and wallowing in my own sadness. The promise of laughter and awkward banter lightens my chest. I quickly wipe away the tears, apply a small amount of mascara, and head out of the bedroom.
“Good morning,” Jack greets me with a cup of coffee in his hands. The patio door opens, allowing a crisp, cool breeze to blow through the villa. It’s refreshing. I feel the clean air in my bones as it bathes in calmness. A stark contrast to what I woke up to.
I smile. “How did you sleep?”
“Adequately.” His smile is upside down. “I must say, the couch is getting more comfortable with each passing night.”
I nod, tucking a hair behind my ear. I feel Jack watching me as I open the cupboard, take a cup, and pour myself some coffee. I feel my cheeks burn, and I grow self-conscious about how I look this early in the morning. “Thanks for making coffee.”
“Of course,” he says.
I cup both my hands around the warm mug. “So, Mr. Bradley, you wake up early and go to bed late. Do you ever sleep?”
Jack’s thumb and index finger rub his chin. “Sometimes.” His gaze shifts to my legs. “Is that what you sleep in?”
I glance down, giving my tight button-down pink and white plaid shirt and matching drawstring shorts a once-over. “Yes?”
“It’s a good thing that I slept on the couch last night,” he replies, raising an eyebrow over the top of his coffee cup while it touches his lips. The same lips that mine burn to feel again.
“Why do you say that?”
“Those pajamas look like they come off easily.”
I feel a flush creep up my neck and face. “Who says I would have worn anything to bed?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks with a straight face.
“Since you have no plans on sleeping next to me or even in the same room—I guess you’ll never know,” I quip.
He steps into me. “I never said I had no plans on sleeping in the same bed with you.”
“So, you do plan on it then?” I look up at his sharp jawline and perfectly tousled, fresh-out-of-bed hair.
Jack’s eyes lower while a mischievous smile pulls at his lips. “Are you inviting me into your bed?”
“It really depends on if you can behave yourself,” I say, clutching my coffee mug with two hands. I bring it to my mouth, taking a slow sip.
“Based on what you’re wearing right now, I doubt that’s a promise I’d be able to keep,” he says.
I have absolutely no response. “That’s good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Fair enough.” He flexes the muscle on his arm. “Do you want to grab breakfast with me at the cafe on the property?”
My heart leaps into my chest. “Sure. Do you mind if I put on something more appropriate to leave the house in?”
“I think that’s a good idea. Take your time.”
I flash him a quick little smile, then head back into the bedroom to change.
After we get back from breakfast, Jack works at his computer for the rest of the morning while I Iay by the pool. We make small talk here and there, but he mostly keeps to himself. He’ll step out the front door every so often to take a private phone call.
I take a quick break after lunch to hit the gym and spend much longer here than I intended. It feels fucking amazing to relieve some of the pent-up sexual tension that’s raging between me and Jack. A little cardio also helps me feel better about Roxy’s guilt trip.
I quickly finish and make my way back up the hill to our villa. When I walk in, I find Jack still sitting at the desk, typing away on his computer. I would love to see his marketing ideas for the winery, but it’s not my place to ask.
“Hey.” He closes his laptop when he sees me come in. “How was your workout?”
Walking over to the sink, I rinse out my water bottle. “It was great. I didn’t realize how long I was down there for.”
His eyebrows pinch together. “Yeah, I almost came down there to check on you.”
“Aww, that’s sweet. You do like me around.” I snicker.
“A little.” Jack shrugs and walks toward me. “I was thinking we could head over to the winery today. It would be nice to introduce you to everyone and show you the property.”
I can’t help my joy or the smile that slips after hearing his suggestion. “Yes, I would love that!”
Seeing where Jack grew up lets me get to know him more. He’s reserved and slightly mysterious, and I’m jumping at the chance to uncover a new layer of this man that sends my nerves into overdrive. I’m craving more of him, and since I can’t have him in the way I most desire—buried deep inside me, I’ll take seeing the place he’s rooted to.
“If we want to make this believable, it would make sense that I’d bring my girlfriend there to meet everyone,” he adds.
“Definitely. You grew up on the property, didn’t you?”
“I sure did. And most of the people who work there have known me most of my life as well,” he says, grabbing his black-framed glasses from beside his laptop.
Don’t put them on. Don’t put them on.
Fuck. He put them on.
I thread my fingers through my hair. Damn, he’s sexy. “That sounds great. I’m excited. Let me rinse off in the shower, then we can leave.”
“I’ll be out here working until you’re ready to go,” he says, returning to his work.