Page 88 of Seasoned
Startled, Jackie yanked away her hand and stepped back. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Sorry,” he said, looking completely unrepentant. “Your skin is still so soft and you smell so good. Can I tell you something?”
“No.”
He bit his bottom lip. “Okay. I’ll keep my nasty thoughts to myself, for now.”
He covered the short distance to the door and let himself out. As he strolled past the glass window, he flashed her a sideways smile. Then he tucked one hand into his pants pocket and continued his leisurely stroll, whistling.
Jackie remained pinned to the floor, dumbfounded for several seconds. Finally, she locked the door and went back to the register to close up.
The man was a heartbreaker, and certainly lacked boundaries. He behaved as if he was in competition with his son, which was a turnoff.
Okay, maybe not a turnoff. Maybe a bit thrilling. Flattering. Exciting, to think that he planned to somehow throw up a roadblock to her relationship with Kendrick because he wanted her for himself. A tiny part of her liked the idea of him pining after her ten years later, regretting that he’d let her go.
After she placed the money, checks, and corresponding receipts in the safe, Jackie picked up her large purse and left the store. On the way to the car, her phone chimed. Not breaking stride, she dug it out from the bottom of the purse and stood beside the car door in the almost empty parking lot, staring at the screen.
Tyson had sent a photo of the two of them hugged up in the jacuzzi, her planting a kiss on his cheek. He was bare-chested and she wore a gold one-piece with a halter-top neckline. She’d taken that photo of them with her phone and texted him a copy.
She looked so happy in the picture, not knowing that a few days later they’d go their separate ways—never to speak again. The message accompanying the photo was simple, and Jackie stared at the words with a lump in her throat.
I never forgot you.
4
“How’s it going?” Tyson asked as he entered Kendrick’s apartment.
Over twenty-four hours had passed and he still had Jackie on the mind—her soft hand, her soft cheek. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every time he thought of her, his body hummed with the restraint he’d needed to resist gathering her in his arms and whisking her away to his short-term rental. But he couldn’t do that, not only because of her alleged disinterest, but because first he needed to handle the situation with his son.
“All right,” Kendrick answered, motioning toward his blue and red sofa.
Tyson sat down and crossed his legs. “How was your Fourth?”
“Ate too much. Want anything to drink?” Kendrick called from the kitchen.
“No, I’m good.”
Kendrick’s apartment was simply furnished. There was the sofa Tyson sat on, and across from that a blue armchair with a red pillow and a heavy coffee table between them. The dining area contained a dark wood, polished table and four chairs with a bouquet of artificial yellow flowers in a vase sitting in the middle of it.
A few abstract paintings hung on the walls, but what drew Tyson’s eye was a black and white photo of his four kids—three girls and Kendrick—in a silver frame. Just their faces, all of them looking into the camera. He and his ex had made some pretty-ass kids, but shame filled him. He’d been less than a good father.
He wanted to provide for Tyson, but his son wouldn’t accept any money from him, which was ridiculous.
After selling the software company, Tyson was in a position to provide for all his kids. His daughters had not been as prideful as his son, who proclaimed he wanted to make it on his own, though he regularly accepted money from his mother because he hadn’t worked full-time in months.
Kendrick entered the living room and set a glass of water on the table without a coaster, which irritated Tyson. It wasn’t his house or furniture, so he kept his mouth shut.
Tyson set his ankle on his knee. “I spent the weekend thinking about what I wanted to do while I was here. Tomorrow I plan to go on one of those tours where you hop on and off on the bus. Then I could meet you later for dinner. The next day I could hit the beach. What’s the best beach around here?”
“Ocean Beach is nice. It’s pretty laid-back and they have a lot of restaurants where you could grab a bite to eat. La Jolla is another nice spot with great views, but parking can be a pain in the ass.”
“How about I do my tour tomorrow so I can learn the place, and then you and I go to the beach on Friday? What’s your work schedule like?”
“I’ll have to check and let you know.”
Tyson’s eyes didn’t leave his son’s face. His thick Afro had been pulled back into a huge puff at the back of his head with a rubber band. He only wore black jeans and a white T-shirt, but with his perfectly symmetrical face and smooth ebony skin, he appeared stylish and like the model he aspired to be.
He hadn’t been surprised when Kendrick expressed interest in acting and modeling because people had always remarked on his good looks—friends and strangers alike. In fact, he’d won a pretty toddler contest and acted in a few local commercials as a teen.
