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I stare at myself in the mirror, swimming in Jack’s gray Spruce Ridge sweatshirt, my long hair curling from the humidity of the hot tub. The pajama pants are still three sizes too big, but I roll them up several times and tie the drawstring as tight as possible. Tucking my wet bikini into the towel, I pad back out to the kitchen. Jack’s standing at the island, scrolling through his phone, and I pause for a minute, taking him in.
You know— on the off-chance I have to describe him to the police.
He’s tall, probably around six foot two, I’d guess. About Wes’s height. Short, dark hair, with a few streaks of gray around his temples. Nice stubbled jaw, broad shoulders. Most likely works out with a trainer a few times a week.
Probably looks really freaking good naked.
Stop.Keep your eye on the prize, Ashton.This is supposed to be a nice, relaxing getaway, not a sexy rendezvous with a stranger.
Especially a stranger as grumpy as Jack.
He doesn’t seem particularly interested, either, and I’m certainly not going to argue with him and try to change his mind. Ain’t nobody got that kind of time.
“You hungry?”
Jack’s deep voice startles me and I almost drop my wet towel. “Um… I could eat, yeah.”
“I’d offer you pizza, but I lost rock paper scissors.” He narrows his caramel eyes at me and a hot flush creeps up my neck.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I have two kids. Probably gives me an unfair advantage.”
“Oh.” Shock registers on his face and my stomach twists into a tight knot.
See. Definitely not interested, especially now that he knows you have kids.
“I wouldn’t say that. I’m known as the uncle with the rock paper scissors power moves. You just got lucky back at the general store.”
A slow breath leaks out of me, something achingly similar to relief, but I ignore the implications.
“We probably need a rematch then.” I cross to the counter and set down my towel.
“What’s on the line?” Jack tips his chin at me.
“The frozen pizza, of course. Since I’m obviously not eating it tonight. If you win, I give it back. I win, I keep it.”
“Deal.” Jack sticks out his hand and we shake. “Best two out of three.”
“You’re on.”
With a deep breath, we square up, facing each other. Together we chant, “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”
“Damn it,” Jack mutters, staring at my scissors to his paper.
“Out of practice, huh?” I tease, adrenaline simmering in my veins.
“I guess so. But don’t get too cocky, I have another shot here.”
“Ready when you are, boss.” I wink and his eyes narrow with determination.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”
Now it’s my turn to be mad. “Gah! I knew I should have gone with scissors again.”
“Sorry, paper trumps rock. Tie game,” Jack says, as if I need a reminder of the score.
“This one’s for all the cheese pizza.” I press my lips together, nerves thrumming in anticipation.
“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”
