Page 13 of Worth the Wait

"It matches my outfits," I say weakly.

A ghost of a smile touches his mouth. "Keep telling yourself that, Tarryn."

Before I can formulate a response, the break room door swings open and Zoe walks in, her eyes widening slightly at the scene before her—Jackson and I standing too close, tension crackling between us like a live wire.

"Oops! Sorry to interrupt," she says, her tone making it clear she's not sorry at all. "Just needed caffeine."

I step back immediately, professional mask sliding into place. "You're not interrupting. Mr. Hayes and I were just discussing the Westfield contract."

"In the break room?" Zoe raises an eyebrow, not bothering to hide her amusement.

"Ms. Wells was just giving me a tour," Jackson says smoothly, with an ease that would be impressive if it weren't so infuriating. "Still learning my way around."

Zoe's gaze darts between us, clearly sensing the undercurrent but unable to name it. "Well, don't let me stop you. Though, if you're looking for the good coffee, the executive lounge on twenty-five has an actual espresso machine. Miguel's assistant can get you access, Jackson."

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you." Jackson's smile is so unnecessarily charming I almost gag.

When Zoe leaves, coffee in hand and curiosity visibly piqued, the fragile moment between us has shattered. Jackson steps back, creating professional distance once more.

"We should finish the revisions," he says, all business now. "Miguel will be expecting our report."

I nod, relieved. "Lead the way."

We return to Conference Room C, where Jackson gestures to a figure standing outside his new office. "I think your colleague wants to give me the official tour," he says. "Christine Blackwell, right?"

I follow his gaze to see Christine watching us with undisguised interest, her sharp eyes missing nothing. A chill runs down my spine. If there's anyone at Blake Financial I'd want to keep in the dark about my history with Jackson, it's Christine. Her reputation for using personal information as professional leverage is legendary.

"Be careful with her," I say before I can stop myself. "Christine plays the long game."

Jackson looks at me curiously. "Concerned about my welfare, Counselor?"

"Professional courtesy," I correct, gathering the revised documents into a neat stack. "I'll finalize these and send them to Miguel."

He nods, hesitating for a moment as if there's more he wants to say. Instead, he simply flashes me that same smile—a gesture so familiar it makes my chest ache—and walks away to meet Christine.

I watch him go, the weight of our unfinished conversation settling heavily on my shoulders. In the space of twenty-four hours, Jackson Hayes has managed to destabilize years of carefully constructed equilibrium, forcing me to confront questions I've spent eight years avoiding.

Chief among them… Why, after all this time, does he still feel like home? And why, for God's sake, can’t I seem to get rid of the memory of the way he made me feel?

I push the thought away fiercely. I've worked too hard to build my career, my identity separate from Maple Ridge and high school sweethearts and roads not taken. I'm not about to let Jackson Hayes derail everything now, no matter how good he looks in a suit or how effortlessly he still reads me.

But as I watch Christine lead him down the hallway, her hand touching his arm with calculated precision, I feel something dangerously close to possessiveness flare in my chest.

This is going to be a problem.

By the time I get back to my office, there’s already a flagged email from HR in my inbox.

From:Human Resources

Subject:Inter-office relationships and conduct seminar

The email is phrased asjust a friendly reminder about appropriate inter-office boundaries and professionalism. Standard boilerplate, sure. But someone had to trigger it.

I don’t need a damn microscope to see Christine’s fingerprints all over this. She didn’t just see Jackson. She saw an opportunity.

Chapter 4

Jackson

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