Leaning in, I whisper in his ear, “That’s right. And what else?”
Jackson twists slightly to look at me, a smirk crossing his lips. “And you’re the most organized, on top of it, with it, forward-thinking, future-planning woman I know and love, and I need to shut up and stop questioning you.”
“Thank you,” I say primly, sitting back in my seat. But I should know better because a relaxed Jackson is a sneaky Jackson.
“I do have one last question.” His hand comes to my thigh and starts drawing lazy circles, slowly moving higher and higher. “Do you remember your promise to me?”
“Uh, what promise?” I ask, my voice catching when his thumb brushes just under the hem of my shorts. “And what the heck are you doing to me?”
“Just getting you ready for tonight,” he replies casually, but the wicked grin he gives me is anything but casual. “The promise about not trying to sneak any stray animals into your bag to bring home. Remember?”
“Oh. Ohhh. Jackson!” I whisper-shriek when he boldly presses right over my clit. Sure, the fabric of my shorts separates him from actually touching me, but still. I’m squirming in my seat and I don’t really know if I’m trying to get closer or get away.
Fine, let’s be real. I want to get closer.
Just maybe not on a tiny airplane filled with our friends.
But this man who claims to love me apparently wants to torment me. Because just as I’m straining to get his hand where I need it, he lifts it away. “Good grief, you’re evil.”
Jackson leans over and kisses my cheek firmly. “Consider it payback for withholding my muffins from me last week.”
“One day,” I huff, giving him an evil glare. “Oneday I didn’t bake bran muffins and this is how you react? By withholdingorgasms?”
The impossible man I can’t help but love just shrugs. “Yup. Love you.”
My eyes couldn’t possibly roll back further into my head, even as I smile back at him. “Love you, too.”
Chapter four
Reid
“I can get some ginger ale for you,” I whisper in Abby’s ear, the pale colour on her face making me feel nauseous for her.
She shakes her head almost violently. “Nope. The bubbles will make it worse. I’ll be fine. Just need to breathe.”
“I hate seeing you like this,” I mutter, rubbing the palm of her hand. It’s the only thing I can do right now to make her feel better and I fucking hate it. I dunno how guys go through this with their wives more than once; I’m a wreck.
Abby takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly before opening her beautiful eyes and looking at me. “I’m fine, Reid. Honestly. The nausea is passing. Just need some more time for the medicine the doctors gave me to work.”
I press a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re amazing, Abby Martin Corser.”
She drops her head to rest on my shoulder, her arm wrapping around my upper body. “Thanks.”
We stay like that for a few minutes. While I’m glad she’s feeling better, I can’t imagine several more months of this. But Abby’s been here before and she’s quick to shut me down when I start to get crazy. Like when I dared to suggest that maybe we shouldn’t come on this trip.
As she pointed out, our availability to take vacation is dictated by the school year. That’s thanks to both my job and Layla — her daughter and my stepdaughter as of a few months ago, when we went in secret to the courthouse and got married. Abby didn’t want to make a big fuss and said all she needed was Layla, her Uncle Steve, and me. Our friends and my parents gave us a hard time, but they got over it pretty quick. We did a BBQ at the farm over the summer and that was that.
Of course, neither of us expected to be in our current situation. Not that we were actively trying to prevent it, but we also weren’t expecting it to happen quite so quickly. Which means in a matter of months, our lives are going to get a lot crazier. Kid-free, beach vacations will be off the table for a while, meaning we want to enjoy every second of this trip.
At least, every second that Abby isn’t sick.
“See, already feeling better.” Abby’s smile has returned when she looks up at me. “I’m going to scoot back a couple of rows and talk to Summer and Paige, okay?” She kisses me lightly before standing up and making her way down the aisle of the small plane we chartered to take us all from Grand Cayman over to Cayman Brac. As much as the charter made sense, given how big our group is, there’s no denying the small plane probably made things worse for Abby’s nausea.
Not even a minute after she leaves, Ethan drops down into the seat next to me. It’s obvious something’s wrong.
“You never got my text,” he whispers urgently.
“What text?” I frown.
