Page 32 of When Glitter Meets Gold

Apart from…

“You daydream about your lunch?”

I frown. “You haven’t tried Gypsy’s bagels. They’re the best, and my favorite.”

“In that case, I’m sorry I don’t have a notepad.” He smirks.

“Don’t laugh,” I say, even though I’m still grinning.

“I’m not laughing.” His voice is quieter, and I have to fight to hear it above the rain. “Just curious, that’s all.”

I keep my head still, fighting the urge to see if his face is as genuine as his tone.

We’re silent for a while, and just when I think it’s time to close my eyes, Jack’s voice fills the space again.

“This might just be paranoia talking, but since you’re set on turning over a new leaf or whatever, might I suggest that when someone you just met offers you a drink from a bottle without a label, in the middle of the woods…you should probably say no.”

I twist to find his hands clasped lazily behind his head, his eyes resting softly on me.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t trust you, Jack?” I look at him with mock fear, glancing at his tattoo and wondering why I have the urge to run my fingertips over it.

“What? No, I didn’t mean that…” I can see his body go rigid, but he quickly relaxes when he catches my grin. Rolls his eyes. “I told you, you’re safe here.”

A piece of my subconscious wants to whisper,I know.Instead, I tug the blankets tighter around my body, turning to get comfortable.

“Are you warm enough?” he asks, watching me wriggle as he adjusts the lamp so it shrinks to the dimmest setting.

“Yes. It’s just the whole falling asleep thing,” I admit. “It’s like the second it’s time to shut off, every crazy thought I’ve ever had pops into my mind.” Oversharing again. Definitely drunk. “I have meds for it if the sketching doesn’t work, but they’re in my hotel.”

Lightening cracks in the distance and the rain comes down heavier. I twist, turning away from him to face the opposite side.

“Sorry,” he says, probably mad that I didn’t just take the damn chopper offer. “Wish I could help.”

And then, because I’m full of scotch, and certain I’ll never see Jack again after tomorrow, I flick my eyes to the roof, toward the sound of the hammering rain, and I decide to overshare again.

“About a year ago, my friend got me this blanket that hasweight sewn into it. It’s not heavy but when you get underneath, it’s like the pressure helps send you to sleep.”

I hear a weird constricting sound coming from Jack’s throat. “Are you asking me to...”

I explode with laughter. “I’m not asking you to climb on top of me, Jack.”

“Right. Of course not.” He recovers. “Then, what?”

I chew on my bottom lip, keeping my back to him. “Would it be weird if we held hands?” I wince, because why the fuck did I just ask him that?

Keep scotch away from me, forever.

A few beats of silence pass, and right when I feel like unzipping the tent and offering myself to the storm, I hear the rustle of Jack’s sleeping bag. Then, his arm moves across my body, careful not to touch anywhere I haven’t invited him to, until his huge hand finds mine.

“Whatever helps,” he says casually, like there’s zero reason to feel embarrassed. “This makes us even for the swamp thing, right?”

I grin as I peek down at our intertwined hands.

“Oh, you’d have to turn into the entire weighted blanket for that to happen.” My eyes widen because I can’t believe I just said that. Did a part of me want him to climb on top of me? I blink because of course not, why the hell would I want that?

I hear him chuckle from behind me.

The sound tells me that if I turned around, our faces would be inches apart. Which is why I can’t move. Because with his hand wrapped around mine and the scotch pumping its way through my body, I don’t trust myself not to do something stupid. Not when the image of his naked butt and shirtless chest are still prevalent in my mind.

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