Jack clearly had something on his mind during lunch today, but he thought he was hiding it, so I went along. He was distracting me, and I knew it, but I was only going to let it go so long.
“For the galas. I know a place over in Denver. . .”
I shook my head. “I have a tux,” I said.
“In Dallas?”
I laughed. “No, in my closet. You would be surprised how often black-tie things happen with hospitals, and you know I worked with a bunch of charities. I’m used to gala season. As I’m sure are you.”
“Well, the Foundation can’t fund itself, exactly,” he said. I smiled. While Jack ran the Mann Foundation, and it had significant ties and philanthropic investment in the hospital, at least it was Baylor that sat on the hospital board directly, so there were no ethical lines to untangle in our increasingly intertwined lives. Jack had still given notice to the board, although in a town the size of Bear Valley that was paperwork, because everyone already knew we were seeing each other.
“So,” his voice took over a flirty tone. “You, ah, traveled around Europe with what? Ski gear, scrubs, and a tux?”
“Mostly,” I said, unable to stop my smile hitching up to the side.
“Sounds more like sexy secret agent,” he said, still flirting like lunch-date flirting was new to him.
Our eyes caught then, and whatever current that always ran between us wasn’t broken until Brock Kennedy, a city councilman I had met and handful of times before, who I was sure would be running for mayor, came up and had enough to talk to the both of us about that he actually took one of the chairs at the table and sat down for a few minutes.
While he talked, I looked over at Jack, who looked like some sort of wise man on the mountain, his dark hair and green eyes both shining in the low-light of the cafe. He was nodding at Brock, and had sat back a bit in his chair to listen, his lunch mostly eaten. Jack’s chair had a rounded back and came up behind him like an ornate business chair, something that, if with different fabric, would be at the head of a magnificent conference table.
Jack had on a suit today, something I was trying not to notice too carefully for the sake of my should-be-sated dick that didn’t seem to care about things like science or biology and long early-morning fucks that should last past lunchtime.
Yeah, the suit was definitely doing it for me.
After Brock held our attention, we were met with no more than five other people chatting with us during lunch. It was odd, people coming to us as if they were interested to bend an ear. By now, I was used to it when we went to lunch together, but it still felt strange.
I wasn’t used to men like Jack.
I had never wanted to put brakes on what I felt for Jack, what we had. I just wasn’t that kind of guy. I was thechase it and see what’s therekind of guy. But right now I kind of wished for one of those schedules or charts we had talked about when I gave him the code to my front door.
When we had finally managed to ease out of the cafe, I had gone home and Jack to work. Later that afternoon, Jack would come to my apartment, but I was on an edge that I had never been with him before. I wasn’t good with emotions like this, and that’s why I kept it all straightforward on the surface.
Usually, if I liked someone, I said it. If someone wanted more than what I was offering or less, I didn’t take it personally, but just moved on. If something was bothering me, I was straightforward about it.
Waiting for someone in a relationship to say what they meant or felt was literal torture as far as I was concerned. I learned long ago not to assume that because I knew someone I knew what was going on for them in their head. I had been burned to the quick by that one, and trust me when I say the lesson stuck.
The things I valued most were upfront communication, trust, honesty, and the desire to look out for one another.
I hadn’t spent five years in a different country because I got burned and didn’t want to see it coming. I knew it was coming. I saw it, and felt it, and damn near evensmelledit. And I ignored it. That’s what gets me. I knew my ex was bad news, and I ignored my gut.
Just like I refused to ignore my gut that said Jack Mann was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of guy.
I spent the hours since our lunch date thinking about Jack and how important he had become in my life. The thing was, I could tell there was something he wanted to say to me, but I had no clue what it was. I had things to share with him, and I had no clue how to do it.
How did people in relationships figure this shit out? My original goal was to do what felt right, back to trusting my instincts. I had been doing pretty well with thatapproach, but I also knew that telling myself the “time wasn’t right” was a good way to talk myself out of ever sharing something important or pushing Jack to do the same. And that didn’t seem right, either. Not with him.
Jack came to my apartment after work, making himself a drink like it was any other day, but I could tell something was on his mind. It was driving me crazy, and finally I had enough with the waiting. He had easily made his way over to the bookshelves I had Quinn build-in around the modern fireplace, looking at the collection I had just managed that morning to unbox.
“P, these are all first editions,” he breathed, looking over what I had collected over the past fifteen years - state-side and while I was in Europe. I nodded from my place at the bar. I liked the way it looked to have the colorful spines flicker in the firelight with the art on the walls. It gave me some sort of peace to see it, and more, to have Jack see it too.
A little look into my nerdy soul.
“Yeah, I mean, not all are firsts,” I allowed. “I have been collecting them for a while.”
Jack laid a finger reverently on the books that were on my bookshelves, taking them into account one-by-one. I noticed, when he got to the second shelf, the one that held my Robin Hood collection, that he paused.
“Why so many Robin Hood books?” he asked, in a question that seemed more to himself than to me.
