AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I picked up a slice of toast and, before taking a bite, held it out for him. “Hey, you’ve done enough. And I know how to share.”
He took a bite, and I took a bite, then I picked up the cup of coffee and sipped. We finished the eggs and toast together, and I leaned back against the pillows again, putting one of the bags of ice to my eye and the other to my side, flinching from the chill.
We stayed quiet for a few minutes, and I studied Jackson. I wanted to know what made him tick. He was awfully good-looking. I loved the way his hair fell to his shoulders and the way he was always brushing it back like he wasn’t used to it being that long. His eyes seemed to change color depending on the light. Hazel, I think it’s called, but his leaned toward the green side more often than brown. He had a tiny scar under his right eye, and I had a sudden urge to touch it, maybe even kiss it, but kept my hands and my lips to myself. What was I thinking, anyway? Was it so wrong of me to be attracted to someone like him so soon after being beaten by Troy? I’d never met anyone like Jackson before. Someone who cared about what happened to me—a total stranger. Sure, Weezer and Gabby cared, but they knew me. Jackson just took me in; no questions asked.
“So, you own the bar, but you don’t work in it. That’s convenient. How did you manage that?”
“Ah.” The green in his eyes brightened, he leaned back next to me, and my body tensed involuntarily. He had to have noticed but didn’t say anything. “Now that’s a bit personal, don’t you think? I didn’t know we had decided to share secrets yet.”
I shrugged. “Okay, I get it. I tell you mine, then you tell me yours, right?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, if we’re going to share secrets as well as breakfast.”
I laughed but coughed at the same time. “Ow, ow, ow, that hurt.”
“Oh, sorry, sweetheart, I’ll try not to make you laugh again. At least not for a few days, but I can’t guarantee anything after that.”
I thought about that for a minute. Where would I be in a few days when I was finally well enough to travel?
“It’s funny. I hardly know you, but I feel as if I’ve known you for a long time. All the logic in the world tells me I shouldn’t trust anyone, and I shouldn’t want to be alone in the company of a man again, but I do feel comfortable here with you ... like this.” I squeezed my eyes tight, realizing what I had just revealed. I couldn’t go on hiding my emotions in front of this guy. It was too hard.
“So ... you weren’t in an accident. It was a man who did this to you.”
“I guess that was too easy for you. I haven’t been very consistent with my story. Yes, it was a man, although I’m not sure you could classify him as such.”
“Ah, there, I tend to agree with you. A man, a real man, would never hurt a woman that way.” He reached out and took a couple of strands of my hair, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger. “Your hair is still a bit damp. Would you like me to dry it for you?”
“You want to dry my hair for me?”
“Yes. Wait, if memory serves, and the last tenant didn’t take it, there’s a hairdryer here in this little bathroom.”
He stood and went to the bathroom, returning a moment later, holding a little red hairdryer and a brush.
“Um … this is a little weird.”
“If you think so.” He set the dryer and brush down on the coffee table next to the tray of empty breakfast plates.
“Really, Jackson, I think I can dry my own hair.” He plugged the dryer into the outlet behind the daybed, and I picked up the brush. Lifting my arm and taking one stroke down my head had me cringing in agony.
“Here. Let me help,” he coaxed in a soft voice, taking the brush from my hand. “Your hair is making your shirt wet.”
Could I trust Jackson? I wanted to. It had been so long since I trusted anybody, except for Weezer, and even then, it was only once. Troy kept too close an eye on me to try to talk to anyone, especially towards the end. “Well, okay. I wouldn’t want the daybed to get all wet.”
I managed to sit up and turn my back toward him, letting him stroke the brush through my tangled hair. He was gentle, careful not to pull. I closed my eyes and reveled in the attention. Never in my life had a man dried and brushed my hair for me.
The warm air from the dryer soothed me, and he was careful not to let the heat stay in one spot too long. Not once did he put the brush near the bump on my head. My hair seemed to be dry. But he continued brushing, and I caught myself grinning as his fingers ran through the strands behind each sweep of the brush. Maybe Troy did kill me, and this was heaven.
I was going to have to talk about what happened sooner or later. So maybe it was best if I just got it over with now. Except, right at this moment, I was enjoying the tenderness of Jackson’s gentle hands.
