He doesn’t wait for me to respond, but instead, he jumps out of the truck and goes around to open my door.
“After you,” he says.
I yawn, rub the sleep from my eyes, and follow him into the store.
This grocery trip is a bit touch-and-go. Jack’s idea of dinner and meal prep is mac and cheese bowls and beef jerky. When I toss anything remotely healthy into the cart, he raises an eyebrow at me. You would think I was trying to convince him to go full vegan or something.
He steers us to the Home section and points to the bedding. “Pick out some sheets and something for the walls or whatever you need to decorate. I want you to be comfortable and dress up the place however you want. I ordered you a bed this morning too, so you can have your own space.”
I sputter, dumbfounded. “I’m only here short-term. You don’t need to do this.” He crosses his arms over his chest and stands as still as a statue. It’s becoming his signature stance whenever he tries to argue with me. “Jack,” I whine. “You can’t be serious. You’ve done too much already.”
“As serious as a heart attack, darlin’.”
“Fine.” I pick out some purple bedding, a few pieces of flowery wall art, a bedside table, and a lamp. “Are you happy?”
He chuckles. “It’s a start.”
“Let’s go,” I say as I start pushing the cart toward the checkout lanes. “We still need to cook, and it’s already after one.”
Once we reach the checkout aisle, Jack eyes me while I separate our items. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sorting what I’m paying for.”
He cuffs my arm softly and holds it in place. An electric shock shoots up my arm and a vision of Jack holding my arms above my head while he devours me flashes in my mind. It’s not like David’s attack on me. In fact, I really like what Jack’s doing.
“No, really,” he says. The vision fades away. “I got it.”
“Come on. I have money. I don’t need you to pay for my things.”
He pats my arm. “Darlin’, I got it. I know you can pay for whatever you want, but that doesn’t mean that you should, and if you’re with me, you’re not paying for shit.”
I free my arm and give in. I don’t want to make a scene in the middle of Walmart.
We check out—rather, he checks out, and I watch the scene play out as though we’re a couple shopping together. I bite out a thank you and walk ahead of him, out of the store and straight to the truck. He loads everything up while I hop in, slamming the truck door behind me. I’m frustrated that I didn’t pay for my own things, but the minute I snap on my seat belt, I smell his cologne again and my anger dissipates.
Jack climbs into the driver’s seat a few minutes later and sticks the key in the ignition. He pauses, keeping his focus straight ahead. “I can tell you’re upset.” He rests his tattoo-covered wrist on the steering wheel and opens and closes his fist. “Talk to me. If this is going to work, we need to be able to talk.”
A fresh wave of emotion hits me and makes my chin tremble. “It’s bad enough that you need to babysit me because my family doesn’t give a shit about leaving me all summer, but now you also feel the need to support me financially. I’m embarrassed. I have nothing to offer you in return. You never wanted kids, and here you are taking care of me, who’s as close to a kid these days as you can get. It doesn’t get more pathetic than that.” Tears slip down my cheeks and I brush them away.
“Jessi, look at me.”
I keep staring at the ground. If I meet his gaze, I’m sure I’ll sob even more.
“Jessi, baby.” His voice is so soft I can barely hear it. He wipes a tear from my face, guiding my chin in his direction.
My heart skips a beat.Did he just call me baby?
I drag my eyes to his face. His light green eyes stare into my soul.
“I’m going to say something,” he continues. “Something I think you’ve never been told and you should be, often. Men should line up to take care of you. Not because you can’t look out for yourself, but because you’re a grown woman who deserves to be someone’s priority. You are not a burden. You are not a child. Men will line up for the privilege of looking after you, loving you, and worshipping you. I know that I’m a lot older than you . . . too old for you, probably . . . but that’s the difference between a man and a boy. You have been surrounded by boys until now. Let a man treat you right.”
The corners of my mouth twitch. Jack’s fingers stroke the side of my face, my chin, my bottom lip. His eyes keep drifting to my mouth.Please kiss me, I beg.
“You’re not that much older than me,” I tell him, trying to ignore my frantic heartbeat at his closeness.
He throws his head back in a full belly laugh. When he focuses on me again, all signs of frustration and tension are gone. “That’s what you took from all of that?” He shifts in his seat to face forward. “I’m thirty, and yes, I’m much too old for you. Plenty of men closer to your age will be dying to date you. I’m merely looking out for you until someone worthy comes along.”
I deflate. What if the man I want is Jack?
