He tipped his head back, exposing the strong column of his throat, and drank his bourbon. I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed, and imagined God was a teenage girl giggling madly as I felt the heat in my face and neck spread all the way down to my chest.
I reached for the bottle and poured myself another glass. I downed that one, too, coughing at the end because, although the bourbon was hands down the best I’d ever had, it was meant to be sipped slowly, not inhaled. Fumes seared my throat.
“Smooth,” I said, eyes watering, and laughed.
Jackson cocked his head and stared at me. He asked, “Do I make you uncomfortable?”
Maybe I should just fill the sink with water and stick my head in it, I thought, desperate for some way to escape. At the moment, suicide wasn’t out of the question.
I looked over Jackson’s shoulder. “Have you seen Rayford anywhere? He said he’d drive me home.”
“No. And that was the worst segue I’ve ever heard. So I have to assume the answer to the question you avoided is yes. My next question is, why?”
Lord, he was direct!
I blurted, “You’ve made me uncomfortable since the first moment I met you,” and instantly wanted to punch myself in the face.
When his face darkened, I added, “But tonight’s the first time that it’s not a bad kind of uncomfortable.”
Unblinking, he stared at me. Thump, thump, thump went my heart.
His voice thick, he asked, “What kind of uncomfortable is it, Bianca?”
Oh dear.
Have you ever stood at the edge of a high cliff and looked over?
When I was little, my father took us to see the Grand Canyon. Being the curious child I was, I wanted to get as close to the precipice as I could. So when my mother turned her attention away for a split second, I scurried under the wood barricades, ran right up to the rocky lip of the canyon, and stared down.
With wind whipping my hair away from my face and dirt shifting uneasily under my feet, I was terrified. And exhilarated. And strangely certain that if I leapt off and spread my arms, I’d be able to fly. There was something magical about my terror, something that made my heart soar even as it stole my breath and froze my blood to ice.
That’s the exact sensation I had gazing into Jackson’s blue eyes as he waited for me to answer his question.
He must have seen it in my expression, because he carefully set his glass down and stepped toward me.
THIRTEEN
JACKSON
“I should be going,” Bianca said abruptly, sounding like she just remembered she’d left the stove on at home.
I stopped dead in my tracks, disappointment cutting through me like knives. I’d mistaken her look for one of lust. I’d obviously been projecting my own feelings onto her, because judging by her wide-eyed, panicked look at my approach, I’d seriously miscalculated what was happening here.
She was just being nice, while I was being a creepy, pervy, wildly inappropriate douchebag who couldn’t keep his boner in his pants.
What a fucking idiot.
“Of course,” I said, mortified. “It’s late. I won’t keep you.”
Blood pounded in my temples. I stepped back quickly, dragged a hand through my hair, and took a steadying breath.
Bianca said, “Rayford was supposed to drive me home, but I haven’t—”
“I’ll take you!”
It was out before I could stop it, a barked declaration that made her blink in surprise at its force.
“Oh,” she said. “Um . . . I don’t want to bother you.”
“It’s not a bother,” I answered through gritted teeth, gutted by her obvious dismay at the thought of sharing a car ride with me. But I couldn’t let her leave like this, with all this tension and awkwardness. I’d have to make it up to her on the ride somehow, say something suave or charming that would bring on that laugh of hers and ease the steel band tightening around my chest.
Yeah, good luck with that, dickhead.
“This way,” I snapped, and turned on my heel and left the kitchen.
I didn’t look back to see if she was following me as I made my way to the garage, partly because I could hear her footsteps echoing on the marble and partly because I was too busy beating myself up for acting like such a fool. Also, my face was flaming red in embarrassment. I didn’t want her to see how horrified I was by my own stupidity.
I should’ve known that a woman like Bianca Hardwick would never be interested in a man like me. The only women who wanted me were mercenaries.
I’d been alone so long I’d forgotten.
You’re only worth the balance in your checking account! Cricket had screamed at me all those years ago, yanking her engagement ring off and throwing it at my chest. Did you really think I could love you? That anyone could love you?