“You know whatImean,”Isaid with a huff.
“Don’t worry,Roar.Therewere no shenanigans.”Hiseyes flicked to my lips. “ButIdo accept gratitude the way you thanked me in my kitchen.”
I swear toJaneAusten,Iwanted to climb that man like a tree.
But instead of taking him up on the offer,Idecided to be an idiot.
“I should apologize for that too.”Iglanced out at the crashing waves. “Ishouldn’t have given you mixed signals like that . . .”
“Hey—”Jackcupped my chin and gently turned me to face him. “They’renot mixed signals.It’sjust you being a person and figuring out what you want.”Hecracked a smile. “I’ma big boy.Ican handle nuance.”
I laughed asIleaned into his touch. “Thankyou.”
“But,Roar. . .”Hetilted my chin and fixed my gaze on him. “Justso we’re clear, my signals haven’t changed.Andfor your peace of mind, you fell asleep on your laptop, soIcarried you to bed whenIgot up for work.”
I chewed on my lip. “Yourbed is really comfortable.”
He grinned. “Ican think of a few more ways we could try it out.Seehow comfortable itreallyis.Ihave no problem with shenanigans.”
I pushed his chest playfully. “Howwas work?”
Jack immediately averted his eyes.Therewere days he’d update me on the bullshit they got called to—people doing stupid things or complex scenes they had to navigate.Therewere days he would unload the stress and exhaustion he was under.Then, there were days he didn’t talk about it at all.
“One of those days, huh?”
Jack gave me a sad smile. “Kickedoff yesterday with a tricky one.Drewgot in a tight spot andIoverreacted and bit his head off.”
“Because you were worried about him?”
“Something like that.”
I had an inkling thatJackerred on the side of "overprotective" witheveryonehe cared about.
It was ironic.Herefused to let himself love, fall, and feel the exhilarating rush of lust, comfort, and partnership because he was scared of losing someone.
But he was just as scared of losing his friend.Hisfamily.Whetherhe wanted to admit it or not,Jackhad relationships.Theyjust weren’t romantic.
“IsDrewokay?”Iasked.
“Yeah.He—uh—he’s fine.”
“Areyouokay?”
Jack scrubbed a hand down the back of his neck. “Ireally wish you were still doing the sledgehammer shit right about now.”
I laughed. “Sorry.I’mback to sanding cabinets and ripping down wallpaper.”
Jack grimaced. “Look,Iknow she was your aunt and all, but who puts wallpaper in a beach house?”
I shrugged. “Shewas eccentric.That’sfor sure.”
Jack sat down on the minuscule balcony.Therewasn’t room for both of us, so he pulled me onto his lap. “Foundanything else?”
“Yeah, actually.”Ipulled the pen from the pocket on the inside of my notebook. “Thiswas on one of the drawer tracks under the countertop.”
He studied the engraving. “Anyidea what it means?”
I shook my head. “Inthe autobiography, she talks about how everyone comes to the beach and dreams of a treasure hunt, so she started leaving clues.”
