"What are we doing tonight?" I ask, looking past him into the bedroom. I was assuming our plans were to lock ourselves in there, but the bed has been stripped of everything.
"It's a surprise," he replies, releasing me and walking into the bedroom. "Are you coming?" he hollers when I don't follow him.
"Soon, I hope," I mutter. He's far enough ahead of me that he doesn't hear my reply, and that's perfectly fine.
I find Jackson standing on the patio, staring out at the ocean. Sliding up next to him, he takes my hand in his and pulls me toward the beach.
"Where are we going?"
"I'll show you," he says, picking up the pace. His legs are longer than mine, and I'm practically running to keep up with him.
"Jackson–"
Did he?
"What do you think?" he asks, releasing my hand and wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
"I can't believe you did this. I thought you were on a conference call for work."
"I was. I may have done this first so I had enough time."
On the beach, Jackson has set up a bed complete with some kind of drapery that we can close to shelter us and keep out prying eyes.
"It was number three, right?"
"Yeah. I still can't believe you remember my entire list."
"Not all of it, just the first few things. I'll want to take another look at it soon."
"Why?"
"So we can have more of these moments."
Damn him for being so sweet. I can't decide which side of his personality I like the most. Is it Mr. Dark and Sexy? Maybe it's the smart-ass that comes out from time to time. Although, I am fond of his prankster side, too. Right now, suave, sweet, and sexy and are blending together, making for one amazing combination of a man that I'm lucky enough to be standing beside.
"You know, this makes my surprise look silly in comparison."
"That depends. What's your surprise?"
"I may have added a few services to my spa experience today. One specifically I think you may like."
"Oh yeah? Before you tell me, why don't we change and go out for a nice dinner? When we get back, we can grab a bottle of wine and head down here to watch the sunset. Sound good?"
"Sounds perfect," I say. "Wait! What about all this?"
"What about it? The hotel knows what's going on. I made sure it was okay before I set everything up. The staff will keep an eye on things until we get back."
"Oh! All right, then. Let’s get some grub."
"Not grub, Jessa, cuisine. We are going to find a fancy place and eat fancy food tonight. We're celebrating."
"Celebrating what?"
"Us. This," he says, motioning between us.
Amber was right. He's aware that I'm falling for him. He may have even figured it out before I did. Both of them are more intuitive than I am when it comes to stuff like this. I had no idea Jackson was even interested in me until he told me. Looking back, I can see the signs, but I wasn't looking for them before. Now, the things I wanted from Jackson when we first met are no longer the only things I want from him.
As long as I don't hurt him, this can work. I just need to keep reminding myself that I only have so much to give, and it will end when the trip is over. It has to.
#3 Sleep under the stars
As far as my list goes, it seems to get more amazing with each thing I check off. New Year's Eve was magical, but it doesn't come close to comparing to tonight.
After an amazing dinner, Jackson and I came down to our little campsite and watched the sun set. We sipped wine, I cuddled up in Jackson's arms, and we talked about what else we wanted to do before we leave the Bahamas. The list continues to grow and, at this point, I'm not sure we'll be able to do and see everything we want to.
The evening is perfectly enchanting and so is Jackson.
Once the stars came out, we went inside and changed into something comfortable. It's going to get chilly tonight, but I'm not worried about it. As long as I have Jackson to wrap his arms around me, everything is going to be perfect.
Like right now. I'm staring up at the stars as Jackson points out constellations he's looking up on his phone. So far, we've been able to find three, but that's not stopping us from making up our own. We've each named one after each other. The one I made up was shaped like a banana, or a bent penis depending on who you ask. Jackson's was shaped like a lopsided heart. He obviously went first.
After laughing for almost an hour straight, it gets uncomfortably quiet. I can tell something is on his mind. Wishing he would just spit it out, I roll toward him and prop my head in my hand.
"What?" he asks, mimicking my position. His eyes give him away. He looks lost.
"Something’s on your mind."
He doesn't respond. Closing his eyes, he rolls onto his back and stares straight up. We've been looking at the stars for hours now. I can't imagine he's still fascinated with them.
"You don't have to talk about it, but I can tell something is wrong. I can feel it. The mood has changed. You're closing yourself off right now. I should be able to recognize the gesture. I mastered it years ago."
"You sure did. There was a point I never thought you would see past what we were doing to what we could have. Now, look at us. Vacationing together, in the Bahamas for at least for another week. Then, we're off to Paris, one of the most romantic cities in the world."
"I know. I'm excited. Aren't you? Amber said she would swap places with you, ya know," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
"Over my dead body," he proclaims, directing his attention back to me.
"I told her you wouldn't agree to it. Do I need to get one of her letters from your suitcase and have you open it? Will that help?"
"I don't think those letters are meant to help me. Plus, nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect right now."
The way he says "right now" has me concerned. He says it as if it's not going to last much longer. We have months, not days left of our trip. Things can be perfect until then. Once we get back home, that's when perfect will fade away and reality will set in. Does he realize that? Is that what he's hinting at? Time to change the subject. I know exactly what will distract him, too.
"Not exactly perfect," I say, scooting closer to him, "but we can get there if you close the curtains. I still have a surprise for you, remember?"
Moving quickly, Jackson walks around the makeshift room, untying the curtains and closing us in. Plopping back down in his spot, he pulls me to him, my favorite devious grin on his face.
"Surprise me, Jessa."
Happy to oblige, I quickly rid myself of the running shorts I pulled on earlier. Remembering what Jackson told me before I left for the spa, I decided to leave my panties inside. The look of shock on his face as his eyes take in the bare sight before him pleases me.
"Please tell me another man didn't touch you."
"Nope. My masseuse did the honors of waxing every teeny, tiny hair. It hurt like hell, by the way, but the look on your face right now makes the pain worth it."
"I'm about to make the pain worth a lot more than my admiration," he says, rolling on top of me. His shorts disappear in one swift motion, and then I'm crying out, the sound of the crashing waves hopefully drowning out my screams.
Waking up on the beach is weird. If we ever do this again, I'd rather not stay out here all night. I hear people, and they're close, very close. Nudging Jackson awake, I pull my clothes on and gather our things. When I open the curtain to step out, there are at least a dozen surfers in the water and a few people already setting up their chairs in the sand. Hopefully, no one was curious enough to look behind the curtain. Jackson didn't bother to cover himself with the sheet last night, and I was barely covered when I woke up.
While I jump in the shower and rinse the sand off my body, Jackson calls the front desk to let them know they can send someone to break down our little area. Our bed in the room already has fresh linens on it, and knowing how comfortable it is, I contemplate crawling in for a shor
t nap since the focus of last night was not sleep.
"Don't even think about going back to bed, Jessa," Jackson says from behind me.
"But it looks so cozy," I whine.
"It is, and it will be tonight. Right now, we need to get dressed and head out. I have big plans for us today. We're going on a sightseeing tour of the island, a guided one so we don't get lost. After that, a little beach time. Sound good?"
"Sounds fun." I love how he plans everything out for us and makes sure we still have a little down time to relax and enjoy each other's company.
As we're about to leave the room, Jackson's phone rings. The look on his face tells me that it's not a call he was expecting and one he probably isn't going to enjoy.
"I need to take this. I'll only be a minute," he says, closing the door and heading into the bedroom for a little privacy.
Taking a seat on the couch, I pull out my own phone and see what games I have to play while I wait. He said he wouldn't be long. After ten minutes, I peek in the bedroom to find him pacing while running his hand through his hair. It looks bad, real bad. Frustration is written all over his face. I wish I knew who he was talking to.
Leaving him to deal with his call, I write a note, slip it under the bedroom door, and head down to the pool. After grabbing a drink from the bartender, I take a seat on the edge of the pool, slip my sandals off, and dip my toes in. Leaning back, I let the sun warm my body while I wait.
Two drinks later, Jackson finally makes an appearance. He's trying to hide it, but I can tell that he's still frustrated. Behind the apologetic look on his face lies something else. I can't pinpoint what it is, but I have a feeling he's going to tell me and I'm not going to like what he has to say.
With a beer in his hand, he joins me by the edge of the pool. Kissing me on the top of the head, he takes the seat next to me, slipping his feet into the pool, as well. Allowing him a moment to relax, and a chance to release some of his frustrations, I don't say anything. Instead, I slip my hand in his and give it a light squeeze.
"I have to go, Jessa," he finally says.
Shit! I knew I wasn't going to like this.
"Where are you off to?"
"Home. The guy I left in charge couldn't handle the pressure and quit. I need to go back and take care of a few things. I already have another guy lined up to take over, but I need to train him on our payroll system and get him acclimated and comfortable. It shouldn't take long. Maybe a week or so."
That means I'm spending the rest of our time here in the Bahamas alone. It also means I'm traveling to Paris alone. How long before he joins me there? Is he even going to be able to?
"When do you leave?"
"Tonight. I just booked my flight and packed my bag. The shuttle is taking me to the airport in a few hours. I'm so sorry, Jessa. I wouldn't leave if I felt like I had another option."
"I know that. Don't worry about it. You need to take care of your business. It should be your number one priority."
"It's one of them. You're the other. I hate having to choose."
Shit just got real. I'm a priority. Maybe this is for the best. I was becoming too attached too quickly. This will give us some distance from each other. I'll have time to reevaluate. Yes, distance. Distance is good.
"You made the right decision. You need to go back."
"I'll meet you in Paris. I promise."
Here the thing about promises. There's only one person in my life that's ever kept one to me. Amber. In my opinion, they're made to be broken. Had he not used the word promise, I would be more apt to believe I'll see him in Paris.
Chapter 7
Five days doesn't seem like a long time. Not quite a week, but more than a weekend. Well, the last five days have felt like a lifetime. After Jackson left, time started to tick by slower and slower each day. My bags have been packed for two days. To pass the time this morning before my shuttle to the airport, I went shopping. That meant I had to repack my suitcase. Still, I'm in the airport, three hours before my flight’s scheduled to leave.
My phone is sitting on the bar in front of me, next to the shot of tequila I haven't taken yet. I can't decide if I want to take it now, before I call Jackson, or save it for after I talk to him. When we spoke yesterday, he wasn't sure he was going to be able to make it to Paris after all. I get it. His business is going to go under if he doesn't get things straightened out quick.
This is the space I wanted–or at least I tried to convince myself that I wanted it. That first night, after he left for the airport, I ordered room service and found a sappy romance on the TV. I wouldn't allow myself to cry. It was for the best, I kept saying over and over again, out loud, in fact.
Now, after days of being bored and alone, I can't decide if I want to risk it all on him or let him go. It's only going to get harder the longer I hold on. For both of us.
Flagging down the bartender, I order a second shot of tequila. I'll have one before and one after. I'm going to need them both.
Lick, salt, lick, drink, suck.
Why do I drink this shit? It's awful.
Okay, time to call Jackson. I promised to call him before I got on the plane. Maybe I should wait until right before I board so I don't get stuck on the phone with him. Looking down at my other shot of tequila, I debate waiting. If I wait, I'll probably drink more of these than I want. Better call him now. Get it over with and move on.
Picking up my phone, I slide my finger over the screen to unlock it. As I'm about to chicken out, my phone vibrates in my hand, Jackson's face appearing a second later. It's a great picture of him. I took it the first day we were in the Bahamas. He was staring out at the ocean and the moment he looked over at me, I snapped his picture. The day he left, I changed it as his profile picture on my phone.
The vibration stops. I missed his call because I was lost in thought thinking about him. Should I call him back right now, or wait five minutes so he doesn't think I was screening his call. Maybe he'll leave me a voicemail.
No voicemail.
No second call.
An hour later, and I'm still staring at my phone, willing it to vibrate again. My second shot of tequila is long gone. So is the third shot. I need to call him back, but I can't find the inner strength to make myself pick up my phone. Why am I so scared? He'll either say he's going to meet me, and we'll have a great time, or he'll tell me that he can't make it, and I'll do the things I want to do and then head to Venice. It's not like I'll never see him again. I'm sure he'll be around when I return.
It'll be easier if he says he's not joining me. That's what's keeping me from calling. Nothing has even been easy for me before. I've worked hard for everything in my life up to this point. Until Jackson. Everything with him feels effortless. That's what scares me. If you don't put in the effort, work hard, things don't last. They can't.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he says from behind me.
Dear God, what is he doing here?
"Another shot of tequila, maybe?"
I don't get it. He called me an hour ago. Has he been watching me the entire time?
Sliding up next to me, Jackson waves the bartender over, orders us each a shot of tequila, and grabs my hand. My body shivers when his tongue licks a path between my thumb and finger, and my eyes involuntarily close from the sensation.
"Is this number three or four?" he asks.
"Four," I whisper, attempting to find my voice.
"Good. You're a little tipsy but not completely lost yet," Jackson says, shaking salt onto my hand.
"I think you might be lost," I say. "Last I knew you were in Kansas City. That was last night."
"I was in Kansas City last night. Now, I'm here." Handing me a shot, Jackson licks his own hand, shakes salt on it, and picks up the other glass.
"How?"
"A plane brought me."
Licking the salt from my hand, Jackson tips back his shot glass, taking the tequila down like a champ. Shoving his hand in my face, I follow suit. When I search for my lime, I
find Jackson holding it between his teeth. I love when he plays games with me like this.
Leaning up to get my lime, it falls from Jackson's mouth as I'm about to snag it. He captures my lips with his own, placing his hands on either side of my face, and kisses me like he's never kissed me before. There's a sense of urgency in the kiss. The tender side of him is gone. This kiss is passionate, seductive, and sexual. He makes me want to crawl in his lap.
Resisting the urge, I pull out of his embrace, almost falling off my bar stool. My legs feel like jelly.
"You were saying," I prompt.
"I don't remember, honestly."
"A plane brought you here..."
"Oh yeah. That happened."
"Come on Jackson. What are you doing here? I thought you had business to attend to. Is everything okay at work? Did you fix things? What about this new guy? Do you trust him?"
"Things are fine."
"That's all you're going to say about it–things are fine?"
"They are. I trust him to take care of things. It's all going to work out great. Now, I'm back here, with you, on vacation, and I don't want to talk about work anymore. Is that okay?"
"No, that's not okay. You left me to make sure your business didn't go belly up. I was worried that it was my fault you were even having problems. Now you show back up here, unannounced, not wanting to talk about it. I deserve more of an explanation."
Maybe it's the tequila, or it could be that the shock of him sitting here right now still hasn't worn off, but I'm feeling feisty. More than anything, I need to know that he didn't lose the fitness center.
"Look, I made a business decision." Shit! He didn't sell, did he? "I took on a partner. He'll take care of the place while I'm away. When I get back, we're going to discuss things further. Until then, I'm on vacation. I won't be getting any more phone calls. Things are under control. I promise."
"Thank you," I say after a few minutes. "I needed to hear that. I know how much you love that place, how hard you've worked to build it from the ground up. I would feel horrible if things fell apart because of me."
Chasing Fate Page 6
