“She’s also drinking like someone who’s got a story,” Val says, topping off my rosé without asking.
I make a face. “Everyone in this town this observant?”
“Small towns. Gossip is a sport.” Jackson clinks his glass with mine. “You liking it here so far?”
“I mean…the scenery is decent.” I nod toward the screen. “Logan’s doing great.”
Jackson watches the screen for a moment, then gives me a side glance. “Yeah. He’s been different lately.”
“Different how?”
“Focused. Driven. Like he’s got something to prove. Or someone he’s trying not to think about. I think he might have…well, it’s none of your business, I suppose.”
“Oh? What’s none of my business?”
“Well, he had a little romance when he was in Davenport. Before I picked him up.”
“Oh. Weird. Good for him.” My cheeks flush. I sip fast.
Val watches us, amused. “You two want a bottle or should I just leave the rosé here?”
“No bottle, thanks,” I smile.
Jackson’s eyes stay on the screen as Logan takes the field again. “Good form,” he murmurs. “Quick hands.”
I swirl the last of my wine, feigning casual. “So…you’ve known Logan a long time?”
“Since he was in high school,” Jackson says. “Used to help run camps in the summers. He was cocky even then—but damn, the kid could hit like hell.”
I nod, trying to sound neutral. “Is he…like that with everyone?”
Jackson gives me a sidelong glance. “Like what?”
“You know. Charming. Guarded. Kind of…frustratingly good at saying the right thing but never actually saying anything real?”
Jackson chuckles. “Yeah. That’s him. Always been a bit of a vault. And a charmer at the same time.”
There’s a pause before he adds, softer, “He’s had to be.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Jackson exhales through his nose, debating something. “He’s just…been through more than most people realize. Family stuff. Some career setbacks. Every time something knocks him down, he gets back up, but it costs him. Makes it harder for him to trust people.”
I absorb that in silence. The sounds of the bar buzz around us, but suddenly I’m hyper-aware of the flutter in my chest. Of how much I want to know more.
Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Do you think he’s happy?”
Jackson looks at me for a long moment. Like he’s trying to figure out what kind of answer I want.
“I think,” he says finally, “Logan’s trying real hard to pretend he doesn’t need that kind of thing. Why?”
“Oh…no reason.”
Jackson squints. “There’s nothing…going on between you two, is there?”
“Oh no…definitely not. You kidding? That would be ridiculous.”
Nope. That shower was…nothing this morning. Very platonic.
