Chapter 7 Rosalie
ROSALIE
I don’t remember the last time I spent the entire day outdoors. It’s not as if I hate nature, but when most of my favorite activities can be done within the confines of my house, I tend to stay inside. After today, I think I might need to make an effort to get out and explore.
“You done reading?” Jackson asks as I tuck my book into my bag.
“For now.” I lift my arms, stretching and then rolling my neck to get the kinks out.
“Before we head back, I want to show you one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll see.”
“I hate surprises.”
“You do?” He grins knowingly. “I couldn’t tell.”
“I prefer to have a moment to wrap my mind around things.”
“You mean, you have to have time to think through the possible scenarios and stress about what could go wrong?”
“No.” Yes. “I like to be prepared.”
“Ryan’s the same. He fucking hates surprises. Wild too, though it’s hard to surprise someone who’s never around.”
I’ve never heard Jackson mention his oldest brother. I’ve only met him a few times, and sometimes I forget he exists. How strange must it be to have a famous singer-songwriter for a sibling?
“Are you close with Wild?”
“Not really. He left when I was still a kid. I mean, I love him. He’s my brother. But I never really knew him.”
It makes sense, what with their age gap spanning more than a decade. “That’s kind of sad.”
“Yeah.” He tries to smile but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I think so, too.”
“You could start to know each other now?”
“Sure. Yeah.” He nods. “I mean, at least he’s made an actual effort to spend time with our family since Will passed.
But he’s got a full life. One that’s not here.
Seems like he’s either on tour or recording his next album.
The last thing he needs is his little brother calling and begging for attention. ”
I hate that he plays down his significance. Almost as if he’s a bother to his family, when that’s obviously not true. “Well, I think he would enjoy getting to know you.”
“Oh? Speaking from experience?” He flashes me a grin.
“This isn’t about me. But, if I had a sister or a brother, I think it would be really nice to have that connection.”
“Only child? Hmm. I always wondered what that’s like.”
Lonely. “I always wondered what it would be like to have a big family like yours.”
“It’s loud, mostly. And there are so many opinions. Too many.” He laughs. “But you know that. You’re practically part of ours.”
His comment catches me off guard. Does he really consider me family?
“You think so?”
“Sure. I can’t recall a gathering you’ve missed in the last few years.”
“That’s because your sister is very insistent.”
“That she is.”
“I never know if we’re intruding.”
“Nah, the more the merrier.” He leans to the right and bumps his shoulder against mine. “Besides, I like seeing you, even if you ignore my ass.”
“I don’t ignore you.”
His brows lift, calling out my bullshit. “You totally avoid me.”
“No!” I do. I shrug. “Okay, maybe a little.”
“I knew it.” His smile dims. “Am I really that annoying to be around?”
“You’re not annoying.” I sigh. “At least, not all the time.”
“Then, what is it?” His grin is back. “Am I too charming?”
“Oh, God,” I groan.
“Too handsome?”
“Too egotistical,” I fire back, smiling in spite of myself.
“Sure, but that can’t be the real reason.”
“It’s not.”
“Then, why?”
I shrug, forcing myself to hold his stare so I won’t appear as weak as I feel. “You’re just . . . distracting.”
“I make you nervous.” It’s not a question.
“It’s not that.”
“Then, what?”
“Whenever you’re around I feel . . . unraveled. And I don’t like feeling that way.”
“You like control.” He states the obvious.
“I need control.”
“Well, I recall a time when you let yourself be a little wild.” He holds up his hands and continues before I can object. “I think you should give yourself permission to do that every once in a while.” He nods toward the creek. “Which is why we’re going in there.”
“The creek?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it up a few inches. “How do you feel about skinny dipping?”
“Absolutely not.” I laugh.
“I thought you’d say that.” He grins, pulling his shirt back in place and squats to roll up his jeans. “Which is why we’re catching crawdads. The only thing you’ll have to expose is your ankles.”
“Why are we catching crawdads?” I wince. “We aren’t going to eat them for dinner, are we?”
“No. It’s just for fun.”
“Fun,” I repeat.
“Yeah, fun. Something you deserve to have more often.” He finishes rolling his jeans and pushes to his feet. He reaches out a hand to help me up. When I don’t immediately take it, he studies me with a frown. “You never caught crawdads as a child?”
“No.” I almost laugh. There aren’t a plethora of creeks or crawdads in the city.
“Well, it’s never too late to start.”
I place my hand in his and he tugs me to my feet, then we make our way to the creek. Jackson wades into an area where there is a small pool of water.
“Careful.” Jackson reaches his hand out to steady me. “The rocks are a bit slippery.”
I hold on to him, just for balance, and focus on the mostly still water. The rocks are smooth beneath my feet, but with each step, the dirt from the bottom balloons out, clouding the water so I can no longer see through to the bottom.
“How do we catch them?”
“Be still.” Jackson’s eyes are bright as he scours the bank for movement. “Watch for the big rocks. They like to hide behind and underneath.”
“What makes them come out?” My eyes watch for any movement. “Us being still?”
“That, and they think our toes are food.” He squats low and dips one hand beneath the water’s surface.
“What?” My pulse quickens as a tiny creature with two big pinchers comes out from a rock and makes its way toward my baby toe. “Jackson!”
“Don’t worry,” He nabs the thing before it reaches my feet. “Got ’im.” His grin is proud as he stands and holds the little guy up for my approval. The crawdad snaps at the air, his little legs scrambling to grab purchase on something. “You wanna hold him?”
“Not particularly.”
“Oh, come on.”
I glance down at the water. While we’ve been admiring this creepy fellow, two of his friends have come out to seek revenge.
“Jackson!” I scream and jump back, narrowly avoiding the approaching crawdads. I escape, but not before my left foot slips on a rock.
I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact as soon as my balance is lost.
But instead of cold water, my body is wrapped in warm arms.
“Whoa.” Jackson yanks me into his chest. His voice is low. “Careful there.”
My breath catches. My pulse races. Every single fiber of my being becomes acutely aware of how good his body feels pressed to mine.
My gaze lifts to his, then shifts to his lips.
It’s as if he’s pulled me under some haze and I’m having a difficult time remembering why kissing him would be a bad idea.
His warning couldn’t be more pertinent.
Careful.
I shouldn’t want him to kiss me, but in this moment there’s nothing I want more. Which is precisely why I press my hands against his chest and take a step back.
“I don’t think crawdad catching is for me.”
Jackson stands before me, almost stunned, and I don’t know whether it’s because I pushed him away or almost kissed him. “Okay.” He recovers quickly. “How do you feel about water fights?”
My gaze is lethal as I take another step back. “Jackson. Don’t you dare.”
His grin is full of mischief as he takes a step forward. “Don’t I dare what?”
“I’m serious, Jackson.” I move away, but then realize I’m walking away from the bank—and my safety. Shit.
He crouches, scooping a handful of water and throwing it in my direction.
I scream and dodge most of it. But that only propels him to do it again. This time, he hits me squarely in the chest. Oh, no he didn’t! This is war!
Gathering the skirt of my dress in one hand, I use the other to send water flying right back.
I don’t hold back, either, moving and splashing, sending as much as he gives until he’s as soaked as I am.
The water actually feels refreshing, and his laughter booms over our splashes.
I am relentless, and soon he’s shouting, “Truce!”
I’m smiling in spite of my wet clothes. “Okay, no more.” I walk toward him, sloshing through the knee-high water to get to the bank. “You called a truce.”
“I did.” He’s beaming, absolutely carefree and joyful. I don’t know how he does it. But part of me wishes I could bottle up his good temperament and take it for myself.
“Come on. Let’s head back.”
We use the picnic blanket to towel off. I find a spot to sit and put my socks and shoes on for the walk back, averting my gaze from Jackson when he removes his T-shirt and squeezes it out.
The sun is high in the sky and helps dry our clothes.
He walks back to the truck shirtless, and it takes everything not to stare as I follow a step behind.
He might be tall and skinny, but every inch of this man is hard, cut muscle.
It’s moments like these when I can’t believe someone like him could ever be interested in someone like me.
Sure, I take care of myself, and I think I look good for my age.
But that’s the thing. I’m almost a decade older than Jackson.
I’ve carried and birthed a child, and my skin is stretched and scarred because of it.
I work out just enough to keep my health in check; not enough to get naked in front of this fine specimen.
Not that I plan on getting naked with him.
God, Rosalie. Stop thinking the word naked!
“You getting hungry?” Jackson turns to catch me staring.
Am I hungry? Hell, yeah. Thirsty, too. Heat works its way up my cheeks. God damn it.
“For dinner? I’ll make something when we get back.” He pulls his keys from the zipped pouch of the cooler as we approach his truck.
“You’ve done enough today.” I wave off his offer. The last thing I need is to spend more time with Jackson. I feel like all my convictions for not sleeping with him are weakened the more time we spend together.
“There’s no limit, you know.”
“What?” I can hardly follow this conversation. I’m so distracted by his half-naked body. Especially when he comes up beside me to open my door.
He waits until I’m buckled inside, but instead of shutting the door, he dips his head and leans forward to meet my gaze. “I told you I was going to spoil you today. I can’t very well make you cook your own dinner.”
“Oh, I wasn’t planning to cook.”
“Girl dinner?” He eyes me suspiciously.
“I should at least eat some of the bread and cheese I brought.”
“Perfect.” He grins as if he’s won another round, and maybe he has. “It’ll go great with pasta.”
I can’t find it in myself to refuse this man. Not today, and that’s going to be a problem. One I’m planning to ignore.