“Sorry.” His hand recoils, and I instantly feel the void of his warmth. “My shoulder was bothering me resting on the top of the couch—”
“It’s fine. You were fine,” I squeak.Sure, your touch lit a blaze in the pit of my stomach that could rival the one blaring in the fireplace, but it was fine. Sensations, that’s all they are.
“You sure?” His voice cracks.
“Mmhmm. Rest your hand wherever is best. No big deal.”
“Right.” His fingers fall lightly against me again, and I don’t flinch this time.
Externally, anyway.
Internally, everything is one massive fire drill.
Don’t make this weird. Don’t make this weird.
“I wouldn’t say no to a back rub while you’re there,” I blurt. Jack’s fingers stiffen.
Darn it. I made it weird.
“I was just kid—” My words die as Jack’s hand falls under my blanket. His thumb presses firmly to the right of my spine and makes a tiny circle.
And then another.
I hum as his strong fingers undo a fair number of knots.
“Is this helping at all?” he asks, his voice husky and low, like it’s coated with a thick layer of smoke from the fire.
“Yeah, it is, actually.” I try to draw more oxygen into my lungs, afraid my breathy delivery will give me away.
Calm down. Jack’s done way more than this with plenty of women. You don’t need to show how desperate you are.
“I may have to coerce you into doing this more often.”
I peek up, and Jack’s lips are curled into a small smile. “No coercion needed. I’ve got you, Dessy. Whatever you need.” He takes another swig of his beer, and my insides warm. “But you’re going to have to explain to me what the big deal is about Wickham because I don’t get it.”
“It’s coming.”
The scene where Wickham and Lydia run off together eventually begins. My entire being buzzes, and restless energy surges through my legs. I sit up, discreetly stealing glances at Jack.
His brow raises slightly. His mouth flattens into a frown, and he brings his beer bottle to his mouth, and I follow the work of his throat.
Is he agitated?
Oh, god. Is it because he doesn’t want to have to run away with me? Did I put him in an impossibly awkward situation when I asked him to help at the fair?
Wait, did I ask him?
No. Emy did. This isn’t my fault. I need to chill.
The credits roll. Jack’s spine straightens. And I ready myself for the awkward conversation about to occur.
You know I’d do anything for you, Aulie, but asking me to marry you? Even for pretend? That’s a bit much.
He stands and stretches his neck from side to side.
Rubbing the stubble on his cheek, his bright blue eyes bore into me.
Here it comes, the letdown. I brace myself.
