Page 22 of Cherry Picked
As soon as I remembered that, I forced myself to pull away from him and get myself together. I wiped my face on my own sweatshirt and took a deep, cleansing breath before reaching into my day pack for a water bottle.
“Sorry. Again,” I said after a nice cold swig. “I should have known I’d get emotional today. I’m one giant mood swing this week.” I poured out some of the water into my hand and used it to clean off the salty residue from my tears.
“Don’t apologize,” Jack said, bumping my arm. “It’s okay.”
A bird whistled in the trees, and I seized on the distraction. “Bicknell’s thrush,” I said, pointing a thumb over my shoulder. “It makes that spiraling, flute-like sound. Their entire breeding population is restricted to the northeast, which is unique to the species…” I broke off and shook my head. “Wow. An emotional meltdownandlecture on bird and bat mating habits. Next time, you’ll be grateful when I stick to telling you about myPride and Prejudiceretellings, huh?”
Jack stood. “Not true. You’ve got a big heart, and it shows. I know your dad taught you a ton about these mountains, but it’s clear you’ve kept up the research.”
“Even more so after Evola came to town.” I shrugged and put the water bottle back in my pack after another deep sip. “I love it here. I know I complain sometimes about how small the Hollow is, but I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”
He stepped closer to me before reaching out to run his fingers into the front of my hair. “You have some tangles…” His voice faded as his eyes landed on my nose ring. Sometimes I caught him staring at it, enough that I’d asked him one time if he didn’t like it, but he’d sworn he liked it fine.
Now, his eyes rested there, and a little divot formed between his brows. I sucked in a breath. With his face this close, I could see slivers of green in his blue irises. I could see the slight color variation in his eyelashes, some with the faintest of blond tips.
Jack’s breath hitched. His fingertip came down and traced the little hoop ring. My lower belly tightened, and my chest constricted. Green-blue slivers glanced between my nose and my eyes. The Bicknell’s thrush stopped its trilling flute, and even the breeze seemed to stand still.
He’s going to kiss me.
I felt the truth of it to my toes. Jack’s lips parted as his gaze dropped to my mouth. Our bodies shifted closer together until the inside of one of his thighs brushed against the outside of mine. He tilted his head and moved closer.
“Please,” I breathed.
In that moment, I would have givenanythingfor the fulfillment of all my years of wishing—they could clear-cut Glassy Ridge, and all of Fogg Peak, and Sunday Orchard besides if it meant I could have one life-changing kiss from Jack Wyatt.
One of his large hands cupped the side of my face, holding me in place. He leaned closer—close enough that the stubble on his chin rasped softly against my jaw, and the warmth of his breath against my skin made me hyperaware of every pore and nerve ending. The warm, spicy scent of his cologne sent adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream, and my body felt like a suite of advanced surveillance technology all homed in on one delicious insurgent.
“Jack,” I breathed, wondering how it was possible for time to move this slowly.
“Fuck,” he murmured before—and I would swear this on my life—he took a deep inhale of the skin at the edge of my hairline. “I can’t! I can’t. Shit, Hawk.Wecan’t.”
He stepped back and turned around, but not before I noticed a very clear bulge in the front of his shorts that wasn’t nearly as visible before.
Jack Wyatt had gotten hard for me.
Crys was right. Hedidfind me attractive. I hadn’t really let myself believe it, despite my attempts at being seductive. But if that wasn’t the issue…
“Why can’t we?” I demanded. “Is this really about my brothers? Or our age difference? What are you so freaking scared of?” My voice was angry, hurt, annoyed. I could hear it as clear as the thrush’s renewed trill.
“I’m notscared,” he insisted, keeping his back to me, and I was two seconds away from tearing into him for being aliarbecause he was clearly scared of something, when he finished with a whispered “I’m fucking terrified” that took the wind out of my sails.
The silence settled back around us, only this time, it wasn’t complete. The breeze ruffled the edges of his hair, and the bird kept up his whirling song.
“Terrified of what?” I wanted to step closer, put my hand on his shirt, my face in the center of his back.
He shook his head. “I can’t give you what you want, Bird. I know you. You want a fairy-tale romance. You want… true love conquering all. You want the happily ever after, and I… don’t,” he said simply, cratering my heart with one small word. “That’s your dream, not mine.”
“I told you before, Jack, we could keep it casual—”
He shook his head. “You’d want more from anyone you were with. Hell, Iwantyou to want more, and I’d hope for your sake that you’d defy the odds and get it. But I… I can’t give you that. So if we start down that path… then what? We’d both end up hurt and bitter. I’d lose my best employee and my closest…” He cleared his throat. “One of my closest friends.”
I reached out to touch him, but before my hand made contact, he turned around and straightened his shoulders. “Not to mention—and I know you hate this, but it bears repeating, okay?—youareWebb’s Hawklet. And if I fucked things up…” He met my eyes with the dreaded conviction he got sometimes when he falsely assumed he was right about something. “You’re off-limits.Period. I don’t want the relationship we have now to change. Ever.”
I nodded slowly, reaching my absolute limit. “I understand.”
Jack let out a breath and nodded. “Good. Thank y—”
“Iunderstandyou’re a selfish jackass who thinks only of himself and what’s best for him. Iunderstandthat you think I’m childish and silly. Iunderstandyou’re hell-bent on insisting I’m not allowed to be an actual adult male because god forbid my family hear I might—gasp!—have sexual relations like they do. And don’t even think about telling me my brothers aren’t all out there fucking right now because we both know they are. Hell, Webb’s probably got Luke in the dirt under an apple tree, Knox and Gage are christening every damn room in their new place while covered in Cecilia’s organic honey from the gift shop—and don’t ask me how I know about that because I don’t care to relive it—while Reed’s fucking his way through our nation’s capital, and Porter’s at Hannabury, probably bending over for one of his professors.”
