That is, until a woman in a short skirt squeezes in next to him. There are plenty of empty seats, but she takes the one next to him and brazenly brushes her chest against his arm before centering her body on the barstool. Her obvious attempt to garner his attention does exactly as intended.
“Hey there, beautiful.” The slow smile that Jackson directs her way makes my breath catch from several seats down—and it’s not even meant for me. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
I’ve heard the rumors about my friend Maeve’s little brother, but watching them unfold in real time is like observing an animal in its natural habitat. It’s fascinating.
“Jackson Wilder!” The woman’s eyes dance with amusement and she reaches out to give his arm a playful tap, a barely veiled excuse to squeeze his bicep. “You’re such a charmer.”
“What’cha drinking?”
“Whiskey sour.” She practically preens under his attention.
“Des?” Jackson calls for the bartender. “Can you get a whiskey sour for my friend?”
“Sure thing,” Desiree says kindly, but I notice her roll her eyes as she turns away to retrieve a bottle. She’s not amused by his flirtations with the woman at his side, and I have to bite back the urge to laugh. I wonder if Desiree harbors feelings toward the youngest Wilder brother, or maybe she’s seen this move played out too many times to count. Based on her body language, my guess is the latter.
I came here to read, but since I’m unable to concentrate, this diversion is perfect. For the first time all night, I’m getting a break from my own thoughts.
“What are you doing over here all by yourself?” Jackson asks the woman. “Please tell me your man isn’t ignoring you for a game of pool.”
She laughs, leaning into him and brushing her hand down his arm. “You know I dropped that loser months ago. I’m here with friends, but if you play your cards right, cowboy, I could be convinced to leave with someone else.”
“That so?” Jackson chuckles.
“Put this on your tab?” Desiree interrupts with their order.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jackson smiles at her, then slides the drink to his friend.
I try to place her, but fall short. As small as this town is, if I don’t run into someone at the library or the school pick-up, we’re never crossing paths. The truth is, I steer clear of people any way I can. I’m an introvert through and through. If it weren’t for my Friday night book club, I wouldn’t have any friends.
“What are we drinking to?” Jackson asks when she turns toward him and lifts her glass to his.
“How about the unexpected?” Her eyes rake over his body as she says the words.
Unexpected, my ass.There’s nothing discreet about herintentions. Does that line even work? A sliver of jealousy races through my mind as I rein in my own eye roll.
“As long as we’re talking good surprises, I’ll drink to that.” Jackson lifts his beer, a flash of pain crossing his features before a forced smile takes over.
“Oh, honey. I heard about your pops.” The woman lowers her voice, her tone filled with genuine concern.
His dad? Everyone in town knows about his father’s worsening dementia. Did something else happen?
Jackson squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and shakes his head.
“That must be so hard,” the woman coos as she rubs his shoulder.
“It is.” His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “So hard.”
“Aww. If there’s anything I can do to make you feel better, give me a call. I’m free all weekend.”
I’m sure she is.I exhale a scoff.
Jackson’s gaze lifts, catching mine for a brief second from over the top of my book.
Shit.
Busted for eavesdropping, I pretend to read the words on the page while the woman and Jackson flirt. Though, the more glances I sneak, the more it seems he’s not all that interested in her. He keeps looking my way. He shifts his body away from her, and doesn’t let his gaze linger on her body. Not that it stops her from leaning closer or brushing her hands along his arm. I almost feel sorry for her. With a smile like his, I can see how his politeness could be interpreted as interest.
My phone buzzes atop the bar with an incoming text. I tip the screen to preview.
