He cleared his throat and sat back in the chair, folding his arms as he studied me through narrowed eyes. It was impossible not to stare at the way the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt strained against rock-hard biceps, two buttons open at his throat revealing the beginnings of his tanned torso . . . how it felt to be pressed against it, those arms flexed as they held me up . . .
‘When it comes to men, you don’t have a specific type,’ he began, watching my expression carefully. ‘But you do like bigger guys. Maybe ones that don’t work out in a gym, but ones that can pick you up just as easy as that glass right there.’
I rolled my eyes, picking up the shot and knocking it back.
It was a fireball, the cinnamon burning a path right down to my core. God. We were going to befucked.
‘Congrats, Sherlock,’ I drawled, forcing myself not to smile as he did. ‘Except you missed a bit. Men . . . or women.’
He raised an eyebrow as comprehension dawned, a tiny shake of his head as he blew out a breath.
‘Jesus, Jessica.’ He cupped the back of his neck for a moment and shifted in his seat.
‘I’ve got one,’ I murmured, leaning into him. ‘You’re the type to wonder if me and Lottie ever had a moment, right? Maybe a little more than friends?’
He looked up, eyes glued on mine for a moment before reaching out for a glass, not dropping my stare as he knocked it back with a wince in answer.
‘I swear to God, Jessica, if that really happened, I’m gonna do whatever you goddamn well tell me to for a live-action replay.’
I cackled, all pretence of trying to play a smart game washed away.This man.
‘Sorry, gorgeous, she turned me down. I tried.’
He bit his lip for a moment, clearly still picturing it as he shook his head.
‘Well now, I like Lottie an awful lot, but . . . she’s a goddamn fool.Look at you, for crying out loud.’
I paused at that same intensity as before in his voice weaving through despite the banter. Too close to the surface, for both of us.
‘Next question,’ I said instead.
Time seemed to slow, the rest of the bar melting away as he correctly guessed my favourite music genres and that I’d never owned any pets. Thankfully, he was wrong about what car I drove at home – none – and that I was an only child.
Fireballs and previous drinks accumulating, my head was starting to spin.
‘Last question,’ I said, unsure if I was slurring my words now or not. The glazed look in his eyes suggested he was unlikely to notice.
His pause was the longest yet, but when he spoke, the words were sure.
‘You’ve told yourself you’ll never get married. You’re afraid of really committing your whole self to someone.’
My thoughts spun, the truth of his words like the burn of alcohol in my throat. Painful.
‘Bullshit,’ I lied, shaking my head and instantly regretting it. I gripped the table and waited for his outline to become solid again. ‘I’d get married. It’s just a piece of fucking paper, right? People do it all the time.’
He grinned, shrugging.
‘I don’t buy it,’ he replied, leaning forward, his face just inches from mine, and reaching out to trace my fingers with his. ‘If I asked you – if I said, Hestia, you are more than I could’ve ever imagined in a woman and I’ll be fucking damned if I let you go home to England and never see you again, will you marry me so you can stay – you’d agree?’
I shut the real words out, just listening to the tenor, the undertone of challenge. I never backed down, ever, to anyone. And fireballs or not, I was not about to back down to a cocky, half-cut cowboy.
‘Sure, why not. Fuck it, let’s go one better – I’ll book the registry office, or whatever you call it here. Where’s the best place to get married in Jackson?’ The surprise on his face was replaced with a belly laugh as I hiccupped, holding my hand to my mouth as I got my phone out. ‘You think I won’t do it?’ I asked, trying to get a grip on my focus, typing the place into my browser as Jesse named it. ‘There – that’s it, right? Look – “register your interest”, fifty dollar deposit.’
He just laughed, shaking his head.
‘All front, honey,’ he murmured, lighting the fire in my gut all the brighter. I picked the next available date and my phone auto-filled the form. I clicked to pay, not giving a fuck about spending the money to prove a point.
‘There,’ I grinned, flipping the phone round to show him the confirmation page. ‘I thought a spring wedding would be nice. Still snow on the mountains, but maybe warm enough to consummate things right outside, seeing as there’s no way I’d let you keep a suit on for long.’
