What did they look like? I hadn’t even gotten to see them last night. Were they even more pale than her face? And what about her nipples? Pale pink like cotton candy? Dark pink like a raspberry? Or maybe even deeper, like a cherry. As she chattered on about Mackinac Island fudge, my cock started to rise as I imagined licking my way up her vanilla skin to the cherries on top. I can practically feel them under my tongue. I can taste her.
God, why hadn’t I done it last night? Why had I raced to the finish like a fucking teenager afraid of being caught? Why hadn’t I taken my time with her? For fuck’s sake, I’d barely touched her anywhere. I dropped my eyes to the napkin on her lap.
“Jack?”
“What?” I looked up sharply to see her slightly amused face.
“Do you want another beer?” She nodded toward the bartender, who was standing there waiting.
“Oh, sorry.” I was completely torn. On one hand, I was having a nice time, and when was the last time I’d done something like this and enjoyed it? On the other, the longer I sat here with Margot, the more attracted I felt to her. “I shouldn’t.”
“Oh, come on. I will if you will. And then we can go our separate ways and you’ll be rid of me forever.”
I shook my head. “You really don’t like to be told no, do you?”
She grinned devilishly, her blue eyes lighting up.
Sometimes I wonder if it was that smile that did me in.
Twenty
Margot
I’d thought it would be awkward, pretending it had never happened. I’d thought it might be difficult, making conversation with him. I’d thought it would be safe, talking about his wife—I’d thought hearing about her would help me remember that he was off-limits.
But it was fun. And easy.
And deliciously, drastically dangerous.
When I’d first walked in, it had been slightly uncomfortable, not knowing exactly how it would go pretending we hadn’t done what we did. But then he’d invited me to sit, and made a joke, and eventually, he’d smiled. And laughed—God, his laughter made me so happy. I wanted to roll around in it, get it all over me, like a pig in the mud.
He looked so good. I could hardly take my eyes off him. I loved the wayward curl of his hair, which I noticed for the first time had a little bit of gray. I loved the shape of his full mouth and had a hard time looking away every time he brought his beer bottle to his lips. I loved the way the cuffed-up sleeves of his blue shirt showed off those tanned, muscular forearms. He even wore a wrist watch tonight, with a large round navy blue face and a brown leather band with white stitching.
He also wore his wedding ring. And when he brought up Steph, I’d taken it as an invitation to ask about her, although I was surprised at how forthcoming he was. I got the feeling he was surprised, too, by how much he was revealing about himself, but it made me happy to think he felt comfortable confiding in me.
But instead of shutting down my attraction to him, the opposite happened—after hearing about their romance, I found myself even more intrigued. Here was this big, brawny, tough-as-nails ex-soldier talking about his first love, how grateful he was for her, how she’d saved him. And when he’d said he couldn’t save her, my heart had cracked, and feelings for him had started to seep in.
Maybe if he hadn’t asked about my horse. Maybe if he hadn’t been curious about my family. Maybe if he hadn’t told me he’d enlisted after 9/11 or talked so lovingly about his nephew or laughed so joyfully at my nickname. Maybe then, I’d have been safe.
But instead, I found myself wanting him again—badly—and regretting the circumstances that made it a terrible idea.
I tried not to flirt. I tried not to touch him. I tried to “pretend it had never happened,” but by the time he paid the bill—he’d insisted on treating me to dinner—we were both half drunk and unable to remember the rules.
“OK, Magellan,” he teased, turning me around after I headed the wrong way, looking for the exit. “Neither one of us should drive home tonight, so I’m going to walk you back to your cottage. Then I’ll walk home.”
“You don’t have to walk me back!”
He held up a hand. “Please. If I don’t help you, you’ll probably end up in Deckerville.”
I giggled. “What about your truck?”
“It’ll be fine. Oh, shit.” Thunder rumbled as we stepped out onto the sidewalk in the dark, the air warm and humid and smelling faintly metallic, but it wasn’t raining yet. “We better hurry.”