“When?”
“Friday through Monday. It’s totally short notice—”
“I'll go.”
My brain tripped over itself. “You will?”
“Yeah. Said I needed a vacation.” He tone was less than enthusiastic, but I was too busy trying to slow my heart before it decided it was easier to give out then spend another second keeping my pathetic hope alive. “Text me the details. I’ll put a temporary fix on your exhaust so you can drive it for now, but we’ll need to start the real repairs soon.”
Twenty minutes later, sitting in my temporarily quieter car, I wondered if that really just happened? Had I actually asked him to spend a weekend with me? In the same room? At a couples’ resort drowning in Valentine’s decorations?
Pride at my burst of courage lasted approximately three seconds before panic set in. Four days. Four days of figuring out how to survive sharing a room with Jackson without going insane or doing something even more unhinged like confessing my seven-year crush that had grown into love.
The engine purred, well, wheezed less dramatically, as I pulled onto the main road. In my rearview mirror, Jackson stood in the bay door, watching me leave. Even from a distance, his expression looked thoughtful. Almost contemplative.
Four days. Same room. Same bed. What had I done? My heart was not built to withstand so much time with a man I couldn’t touch.
This was going to end so badly.
* * * *
Salt spray kissed my face as the small boat cut through crystalline waters. Behind me, Jackson’s presence radiated heat despite the morning breeze, close enough that his breath occasionally stirred the hair at my nape.
Of course my car had chosen this morning to die completely. Not the usual death rattle, but full cardiac arrest in my apartment parking lot. Jackson had arrived within fifteen minutes of my panicked call, looking unfairly good for five-thirty in the morning, and drove us to the airport in his truck while I apologized approximately seventeen times.
Then the plane delay. Four hours of airport purgatory before boarding, where exhaustion finally won and I’d passed out somewhere over Georgia. Waking up had been... memorable. My face pressed against Jackson’s neck, his arm around me to keep me from sliding into the aisle, and his voice soft in my ear saying we were beginning descent.
The scent of his cologne had clung to my shirt for the rest of the flight.
Now, watching the island materialize on the horizon, words failed me entirely.
White sand beaches curved like parentheses around water so blue it looked like the fish were swimming in air. Palm trees swayed in choreographed perfection while buildings in coral and cream nestled among tropical gardens that probably cost more to maintain than my annual salary. A wooden dock stretched into the water like an invitation, and beyond it, the resort sprawled in understated elegance. Nothing flashy, just the kind of subtle luxury that whispered rather than shouted about its price tag.
“Incredible,” Jackson breathed behind me, and the warmth of the word ghosted over the shell of my ear. “That’s something else.”
Jackson stood inches away, the morning sun turning his black hair almost blue and his eyes into diamonds. Wind had mussed his carefully styled locks into something softer, more touchable, though touching would definitely violate our friends-only vacation.
Those green eyes weren’t looking at the island anymore. They were fixed on me with an intensity that made breathing optional.
“What?”
“Nothing.” But his gaze didn’t shift, traveling across my face like he was memorizing something important. “Just... this is really happening.”
Before I could decode that statement, the boat bumped against the dock with enough force to make me sway. Jackson’s hands caught my waist, steadying me against his chest, and suddenly we were sharing the same air. His fingers pressed through my shirt, thumbs brushing the ridge of my hipbones, and every nerve ending decided to throw a celebration.
“Careful,” he murmured, but his hands didn’t move. Neither did the rest of him, for that matter, keeping me bracketed against the boat’s railing while my brain tried to remember basic motor functions.
Sandalwood and the faint odor of the garage that never really faded shouldn’t smell this good together. Shouldn’t make me want to bury my face in his neck and just inhale until my lungs gave out.
“Gentlemen, welcome to Buckman Resort.” The boat captain announced.
Jackson’s hands slipped away, leaving ghost prints of heat on my skin. Disembarking didn’t required his assistance, but a light touch at my elbow guided me onto the dock, anyway. I wasn’t going to protest if he wanted to touch me, no matter how innocent it was. Not as long as we were here.
Every few steps, his fingers would brush my arm, steadying me on legs that still felt a bit shaky from the boat ride.
“Will Buckman join us?” I asked the staff member who appeared with a silver tray of champagne flutes, because focusing on anything else seemed safer than thinking about how Jackson’s hand had migrated to the small of my back.
Besides, I needed to find out why I’d gotten the invitation to begin with. I could’ve asked when I’d RSVP’d, but that meant taking a chance they’d discover their mistake and cancel my vacation. I wasn’t an idiot.
