“Yes, please, that would be great!” I turn around to say bye to Étienne.
He never used to get out of his kayak—he’d always just hold it steady for me so that I didn’t slip and fall—but now he makes a point of disembarking so he can give me a passionate kiss on the bank.
Jackson does not look happy when I climb into the passenger seat.
“Are you okay?”
He was smiling a few minutes ago.
He shakes his head and pulls away from the curb, his mouth set in a grim line.
“What is it?” I ask uneasily.
“Him.” He jerks his head to the right, indicating the person we’ve just left at the riverside.
“What about him?”
He shakes his head again, his jaw clenched.
“What?” I press.
He sighs loudly. “I just get the feeling that he’s fucking with me.” He stares hard out of the front windscreen. “It’s like he’s fucking with you to get to me.”
My mouth drops open. “What, you don’t think he could actuallylikeme?”
He glances across at me, doing a double take at my expression. “That’s not what I’m saying. Ofcoursehe likes you, Ijust…At first, I thought you two might be trying to make me jealous, but there’s something else going on. It’s like it’s personal. With him, I mean.”
“Are you kidding me?” I hate that he saw through our ruse, but I also can’t believe that Jackson is making this about him. Étienne and I are no longer pretending.
“I’m sorry,” he says, shooting me a concerned look.
“Can you take me home?” I ask sharply. My face is burning, even though the air-conditioning is hiked right up.
“Aren’t you coming to ours?”
“I want to shower first.”
I wasn’t planning to bother, but suddenly I feel as though I need to scrub myself clean.
“I’m sorry,” he says again as he pulls up outside Mellie’s.
I yank the door open and storm out of the car.
“Gracie!” he calls after me with alarm.
“Leave it, Jackson.” I slam the door in his face.
I’m too angryto feel embarrassed. I figure fury is better than wanting the ground to open up and swallow me, so I go with it.
Mellie picks up on my mood. “What’s wrong?” she asks as we walk down through the lower paddock.
I shake my head. “I don’t think I want to talk about it.”
“Is it Jackson? Or Étienne?”
“Both,” I admit.
“That’s a bit greedy.”
