Page 27 of The One With the Mountain Man

And to top it all off, the longer I was around him the harder it got to pretend I didn't find him incredibly attractive.

Jackson was sexy. From the way his clothes molded to his sculpted body to the way he genuinely cared about everyone to the concern he showed for me, it was all part of a package that was made to turn me on, all wrapped up in a dimpled, twinkling-eyed bow.

Which reminded me why I felt super doomed at our first lunch, how I'd run away because all I wanted to do was climb the booth and have my way with him. Things hadn't changed, and if it weren't for the brisk breeze blowing through the gorge, I'd need another menu to fan myself with.

"It's the job." I turned to stare at the river because looking at Jackson wasn't an option. I couldn't move when our eyes met. I wanted to drown in them and run away from my life. Pretend there was no book to write and kill off A.M. Quill forever. Her fans could write fanfiction about how the series should have ended.

He came to stand beside me, my shoulder nearly brushing his bicep. "I don't know what this job is, and it's not my place to tell you what to do, but if I were you, I'd find a new job."

I smiled. "The crazy thing is I used to love it. I think I still do. Everything is just wrong right now."

He held up the box. "Chocolate cake fixes some things. Want to eat it?"

I loved the idea that something as simple as chocolate cake could solve anything. "I might as well start somewhere."

We settled on the rocks beside the water, like a picnic without a blanket. Trees stretched to the sky above us in a canopy with a sliver of blue sky at the top. Being down in the gorge was the opposite of being up on my mountain where I could see forever. I liked both views very much, but I had to admit I missed being closer to water.

"We're safe here? There isn't going to be a giant gush of water to wash us away or anything, right?"

Jackson grabbed one fork and stuck the other in the cake. "Not here. It's nice and steady here. Good for fishing." He nodded up the river to where a shadowy figure stood in the water up to their thighs.

"I've always wanted to try fly fishing."

Jackson dug into the cake and ate an enormous man-sized bite. "Do you fish?"

I dug in too and had to stop for a moment to appreciate Annie's baking skills becausedamnthat was a delicious morsel melting on my tongue. "Quite a bit of saltwater fishing growing up. Oh mygawd, this cake is amazing!"

Jackson chuckled softly. "Annie has a gift. Tell me more about your fishing skills."

I rolled my eyes and finished my bite. "I have a special talent for catching the most uninteresting things."

"Things?" That dimple finally made an appearance again and it had the fascinating effect of making me melt.

Apparently I had to get Jackson at ease and then really amuse him to make it come out. I liked that. That dimple had to be earned. "I've caught a wet sock, a beer can, a nurse shark, more catfish than I can count—I'mverygood at catching catfish—the saddest, smallest red snappers you've ever seen, and then once I accidentally somehow caught a sailfish."

He eyed me as he dug his fork in for more cake. "Why is that bad?"

"Because we were not equipped for sailfish, and I ended up having to cut the line. I still feel bad about that. Some poor sailfish is out there swimming the Gulf of Mexico with my hook in its mouth."

Jackson clamped his lips together to keep from outright laughing. I ate a whole delicious, sugary bite before he pulled it together. "I think maybe fishing isn't your sport if you feel bad for the fish."

"I know. And yet..." I loved it. Well, I loved casting and reeling, the thrill of feeling something on the line and the anticipation of what it might be as I fought to reel it in. But once it was there and I had to witness what I'd done, I almost always wished I'd never put my line in the water. "Maybe I should find another sport to get my adrenaline rushes."

"I like your contradictions Marley Tranquill." He ate another enormous bite of cake. "Anytime you want to try fly fishing, just let me know. I'd be happy to show you the ropes. And take whatever you catch off the hook."

Oh no. This man was going to make me fall for him. Fall hard. Between his twinkling eyes, that damn dimple, and now offers like this? "You should run far away from this Hot Mess Express, Jackson Finn."

He cocked his head as he studied me. "I'm my own mess, I promise." He turned more fully to face me. "I don't stay in Lost Creek for long because I have an enormous and very loud family. I prefer to be alone. To be quiet. They want me to be different than I am."

I had the most uncontrollable urge to reach out and cup his face, to assure him that he was perfect just the way he was, which made no sense because I didn't actually know him at all.

But in a way, I did. I knew him on a fundamental level. And while he did a good job of hiding it, I could see the hurt in his eyes when he said his family wanted him to be different. I understood that more than he could possibly know. A lot of people wanted me to be a lot of things I wasn't, but the most painful of all was the way my family wanted me to grieve quieter, or not at all. They wanted me toget over it already.And that left a different, uglier kind of scar that sometimes hurt more than losing my friends.

I pulled up my knees and rested my cheek against them. "And you just want them to understand you."

He nodded. "It's why I don't come home often and it's absolutely why I don't stick around for long when I do." He closed up the now empty box and set it aside. "But I like talking toyou. A lot, if I'm being honest."

And I liked the way his eyes swept over me again and again, like he was surprised I was still here. Still real. "I like talking to you, too."

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