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I thought for a minute. "I guess, we do our best to get along, then after the toast, the cake, and the last dance of the evening, our truce is over. We can then go on our own way."
A cocky smile fell onto Jackson's lips, one I'd come to know well. "So I guess I only have a few weeks to win you over before the end of that night then, huh?"
I almost choked at his suggestion. "I doubt Zoe would approve," I bit out.
Jackson looked at me, a serious expression on his face. "Zoe isn't in the picture now is she?"
"I don't know, you tell me?"
"No, she isn't, for many reasons," he said, looking down at his plate. "Honestly, I wouldn't walk a single step for her, but to have another chance with you? Well, I'd do just about anything."
I didn't know how to react to that. I studied his eyes. "Yeah, well, good luck with that."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"You aren't that smooth."
A laugh ripped from Jackson's throat and he set his blue eyes on me. Our eyes locked and silence fell between us. His blue eyes danced, and if I allowed myself, I knew it would be only a matter of minutes before I was lost in them.
"I know for a fact at one point you would have disagreed with yourself. However, we aren't going to argue because we can't ruin Cara and Ryan's wedding," he said, smiling smugly at me again.
He was so damn cute, but I hid my smile. There was no way I was giving into him that easy. The dryer buzzed and interrupted the look between us. Jackson jumped up and left the room, leaving me sit there alone. I took a deep breath. No matter how confused I may have been with everything or how much I held on to the past, this man was going to be the death of me.
He came back into the kitchen, and I looked to the hand that held my clothes. I used to love the feel of his hands on me and wondered if they still felt the same—rough but gentle, tender but strong.
"What is it?" he asked as he placed my dry clothes on the back of the empty chair.
I shook my head and picked up my fork, digging into the stack of pancakes. "Nothing."
"Bailey? What is it?"
"I was just thinking my mom must be worried sick about me," I answered, hiding what was really on my mind.
"Is that where you're staying?"
I nodded, taking another mouthful of food. "I told her I would be home last night."
"Well, I figured you might be staying there, but there was no way I was going to show up on your mom's doorstep with you in that shape. So, how about I take you home after we finish breakfast."
I nodded. "Thanks."
"No worries. You can call her if you want," he said, pointing to the phone.
I shook my head. "No it's okay. The last thing I need is my mom seeing your number on her call display."
"Better mine than Ben’s?" Jackson said, letting out a laugh.
I could seeMom on her hands in knees in the front garden as Jackson pulled into the driveway of the small bungalow. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard the car, a small smile resting on her lips. I sat there, almost frozen, as she stood up, dusted off the knees of her jeans, and started to walk over to the car.
"A word of warning," I said, turning to look at him. "She's been asking about you."
"That's okay."
"It's really not," I murmured as Mom approached the car just as Jackson hit the button for the window and rolled it down.
"Good morning." He grinned.
"Morning, Jackson. I see you brought our princess home safe and sound. Bailey, I was so worried when I woke up and you weren't here. Why didn't you call me?"
