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Rose
FUCKITY. FUCK. FUCK. I was so screwed.
What had Daniel been thinking, pairing me with dick for brains? Super fucking hot dick for brains, but still. Smiling at me one second, practically running away the next.
Jackson was so sexy he was almost overwhelming. His thick, dark brown hair was caught up in a man bun. Gawd, I hated those stupid things. Like if you were gonna have long hair, just freaking own it, amiright? But on him it didn’t look stupid.
At all.
It made him look like a super chiseled samurai warrior or something. I wanted to growl but settled instead for curling my fists, digging my nails into my palm so hard it made me wince.
And his eyes. His eyes. Gah, there should be odes to those eyes. Long dark lashes that only men ever got, like the bastards really needed them, and they framed the loveliest pair of amber-colored irises I’d ever seen.
A girl could totally get lost in those eyes.
His face was perfectly adequate too.
Long nose, but not too long. Square jaw with a perfectly trimmed shadow of a beard. Sharp cheekbones. Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I totally had a type, and Jackson Moore was my wet dream come to life.
And his body. Hell. He was tall. Strong. Ropey. I mean, he wore a loose-fitting pair of shorts and shirt drenched in his sexy, sexy sweat, and I could still tell that every inch of him was chiseled perfection. The man was effing beautiful.
I was dying. Dying. Why had Daniel done this to me? Why, had... My heart jerked.
Maybe Jackson was gay.
Oh God, yes! There was my answer. I mean, look at him. Metrosexual hipster, hello! Totally gay. Raging flamer. Loved ’em long and swinging to the left. Feeling suddenly less nervous and more myself, I leaned forward and said the first damn inappropriate thing that came into my head. ’Cause that’s just how I rolled.
“So tell me the truth, when they come, do they scream, ‘Moore, Moore, Moore?’” I laughed, shaking my head until I realized he was sooooo not joining in.
His eyes widened and he shot me a look like he couldn’t believe I’d said that. Honestly, neither could I.
“Shit.” My hand flew to my mouth.
What the fudge had I been thinking? I didn’t know him from Adam. What the hell was wrong with me? Shaking my head, I blinked, laughing at myself even as inside my brain screamed, “Mayday, Mayday! Abort!”
A look crossed his face as his suddenly heated gaze raked me. Breathing a little harder than before, he looked at me like I confused the hell out of him and yet... Was that a ghost of a grin tipping the corners of his mouth?
Looking at his beautiful face made me instantly hot. I squirmed, my nipples tightening and screwing into two hard nubs so physically painful that I curled in on myself.
“The answer,” he said, voice throaty and deeper sounding than before as he glanced down at the folder, flipping it open casually, “is yes. Me love ’em long time.”
What the— Had he— A joke?
My eyes bulged. My face flamed. And I was pretty sure I no longer had a tongue. It was superglued to the back of my throat, permanently lodged in there.
I coughed, dying a little more when his lips twitched. The wanker was laughing. At me.
I mean, I’d started it. But still, I was freaking mortified and my cheeks were blazing with heat. I was so not that weird, inappropriate girl. Or maybe I was. I had been once. Just not for a very, very long time.
Reaching into a small cooler sitting beside his feet, Jackson grabbed a bottle of water and tossed it at me. “Drink,” he ordered.
It was a miracle that plastic projectile didn’t bounce off my head. I’m not sure how I had coordination enough to grab for it, especially when my insides were a riot of terror and humiliation, but I uncapped that bitch and chugged it down in one breathless gulp.
When I finished, he had one dark brow lifted, and again I wanted to crawl into a deep, dark hole and just croak.
I wished I knew what had happened to the chick in high school who had guys eating out of the palm of her hand. Somehow, and without my consent, she’d died a miserable and horrible death, and all that was left behind was this inappropriate granny-mom.
“Good?” he asked a moment later, that deep, dark voice of his causing me to shiver and wiggle on my bum.
There was no way in hell I could work with this guy. He frazzled me in the worst way possible.
I opened my mouth, ready to tell him that, when he flicked his pen. “Weight?”
“What?” I snapped, not ready for the swift change in subject.
His look was serious, knowing. Dare I say it, even defiant. “C’mon, Rose, this isn’t gonna work unless you open up to me.”
“I mean, it’s not like we’re dating. Sheesh, you gotta woo a girl first. Damn.”
I thought I’d whispered it beneath my breath until he chuckled.
“You’re funny.”
That last part was said as if he hadn’t meant for me to hear it. His amber eyes lit up, and my stomach, it flopped to somewhere beneath my knees. Just keeled over and crashed. Gave up the ghost. Because there was no way in hell this fiercely gorgeous man was smiling back at me like this. Men like him didn’t notice plebs like me.
Fact.
Just ask Kyle.
With a firm shake of his head, he gave me his business look again. “Okay, let’s start over, shall we?”
Who really said shall we anymore? Unless they were Darcy. Darcy could shall we any day of the week. God, I was horny. This was so painful. So freaking painful. I felt a nail snap and realized I was digging into the leather of the chair.
Okay, get it together, Thorne, for fuck’s sake.
Squaring my shoulders, I forced myself to meet his stern, sexy, sexy gaze.
“We shall,” I said in my haughtiest and most British accent.
When I was nervous, I tried to make the world laugh. It was Self-Preservation 101 for me, my way of dealing with a world that wasn’t fair, wasn’t nice.
Own it, move forward. Grandpa’s words echoed in my head. The wise sage helped me even in death.
I expected to see irritation flash through Jackson’s eyes, just as it always would through Kyle’s when I’d run off on my tangents this way. But I was shocked. It wasn’t there. His beautiful head was cocked and his beautiful eyes stared at me like he didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh with exasperation.
His lips, slightly fuller on the bottom than the top, were thinned. But not in disgust, a novel concept for me. Also one that helped ease the weirdness fluttering through my belly and bones.
I could get through this.
I smiled. Or at least I tried to. Only one half of my mouth twitched up, but hey, progress made and all that.
And for just a second, a fraction of eternity, he shot me one back.
“Eff me,” I muttered. “A hundred and eighty on the money.”
Why did owning up to that to a perfect stranger feel a lot like being told you’d been cheated on for years? Oh wait... Been there, done that, got the damn T-shirt. That angry, buzzing hornet’s nest of rage that always seemed to breathe just beneath the surface of me came instantly awake. If Jackson so much as blinked, I was out of there.
Fucking gone.
I wasn’t gonna—
“Thanks. Now, was that so hard?” he asked matter-of-factly, scribbling my shame down on the sheet before him.
Huh. He hadn’t laughed. Why not? Because I swear, the moment most people discovered you were pushing a buck eighty, they recoiled in horror as if the fat was contagious or something.
So of course, diarrhea of the mouth took over, and I was speaking before I thought. “Hell yes, that’s hard. Do you have any idea how much it sucks to know the world judges you based on what you look like and not who you are?”
Whoa.
Shit.
I blinked.
I was so many years out of practice just simply conversing with other people. The only people I talked to on any sort of regular basis were Daniel and Tanner, and they both knew me. They understood how wildly wrong in the head I was. It was part of my appeal to them, really. Sickos.
I bit the corner of my mouth. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m having an off day.”
More like an off year, but semantics, right?
“Don’t apologize, Rose,” he said, not looking at me. “You’re right. People do judge based on looks. It sucks, but there it is. And for the record, you don’t look it.”
I sucked in a trembly breath, feeling suddenly hot and constricted in my too-large shirt. What did that mean? Did I look heavier? I mean, I knew there was a point when I’d gotten dangerously close to the dreaded threes. I shuddered, but I’d moved well below that.
There’d been a time when my skin had been so swollen all you had to do was press down and the thumbprint would remain for minutes afterward. Those had been dark, dark days.
But I thought I’d been looking better lately. Yeah, still frumpy, but maybe more than just a little cute again.
I bit the inside of my cheek, hating that I suddenly felt like crying and running away.
Finally he looked at me, pinning me in place with those pretty, pretty eyes. No man should have eyes like his. It wasn’t fair.
“Age?”
I snorted, clinging to the chair like it was a lifesaver. “You’re really going for broke today, aren’t you? And why the hell does that matter anyway? I get the weight thing. Obviously I’m here to lose it. But my age shouldn’t—”
He pursed those fine lips of his, staring at me as if amused. Which was slightly terrifying and totally irritating.
“It matters because as we age our metabolisms react differently. I tailor a program to each client’s individual needs. Now, age?”
His words made sense. But their clinical delivery made me squirm. I knew I was looking like a nutcase and I really hated it. Sometimes being me really blew.
“Twenty-nine,” I chewed out, refusing to add that I’d only be twenty-nine for a few more weeks. The dreaded 3-0, ugh.
He chuckled, scribbled it down, and said in his husky voice, “You make it sound ancient.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, well I’m looking down the barrel of thirty.”
He snorted and I twisted my lips, feeling daring and defiant. “Well, how old are you?”
“Don’t think today’s about me, cupcake,” he said quickly, still not looking at me.
And I shivered at the casual use of that familiarity, knowing he hadn’t meant anything by it but flustered about it all the same.
I arched a brow, glaring hotly at him. “Did you just refer to me as this fat girl’s kryptonite?”
My words were low and haughty sounding when the truth was it was taking every ounce of self-control I possessed not to laugh at the look of shocked surprise that had just flitted across his face.
He blinked, mouth gaping, cheeks going ruddy, and holy hell, it was suddenly hard to breathe. The man was seriously gorgeous, especially when he was blushing.
“I, uh... I don’t—”
And then I did laugh, grabbing hold of my stomach and tossing my head back, having more fun than I could have ever imagined with someone who amounted to a perfect stranger. But seeing that pretty face crumple with surprise had almost been worth it.
“I’m just kidding, hipster.” I winked.
Several emotions scrolled over him like a marquee. First shock. Then wonder. Until finally there was only mock outrage. “Hipster.” He snorted. “Like hell.”
“Yeah, okay. But I bet on the weekends you’re like some deadbeat hippie, snapping your fingers in some overpriced coffee bar, licking foam off a recycled paper cup while you quote Shakespeare to impress the ladies. Not judging.” I held my hands palm up and gave a small, flippant shrug.
His eyes danced with laughter, and he was looking at me like he didn’t know whether I was coming or going, or even if I was human.
“You’re so freaking weird,” he said, and again a look of surprise flitted over his features as he said it.
I had a feeling Mr. Studly here rarely stepped out of professional mode, but my sass was sort of impossible to resist. It’s why I’d made friends so easily back in the day. I grinned, then gave a soft little snort.
“Maybe I am, I dunno. But is that really such a bad thing? People are always too serious, I think. Freaking laugh sometimes. Life’s too short. Someday you’re gonna turn around, blink, and it’s all gonna be over and then you’re gonna wish you’d done it.”
His brows twitched as he looked at me seriously, like he wasn’t just listening but really listening, and again I found myself squirming on my seat. I’d been so long without company that I didn’t seem capable of just acting normal. I mean, who got this deep when meeting someone for the first time? Gah.
“Maybe you’re right, Rose Thorne.”
I twisted my lips, dancing my fingers over the top of my frizzy bun. “Anyway, enough of that psychoanalyzing bullshit. Promise,” I said with a weak grin.
Why hadn’t I blow-dried my hair before putting it up? I was probably starting to look like a Chia Pet.
He smiled. With his whole face, making his eyes blaze, and my stomach gave a shuddery, trembly plop. It was kind of exciting as hell.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said again, but softer.
My heart squeezed.
Holy hell, this man was way too much, but I couldn’t help but smile back. And I felt like I was falling, flying. And call me crazy, but for just a second it sorta felt like he was thinking the same thing too.
Maybe Daniel hadn’t made such a bad choice after all. It definitely wouldn’t hurt working out while getting to admire some serious eye candy three hours a week.
All sweaty and ripped and pretty man meat. Mmm...
“So tell me, why are you here?” he asked softly.
“Huh? What?” I started, a little afraid he might have read my dirty thoughts on my face.
He was smirking, and I had a feeling he knew, but then you couldn’t be that hot and not know others would find you attractive. It was like a law of nature or something.
Leaning back, looking way too comfortable for my peace of mind, he tucked his hands behind his head, looking for all the world like nothing fazed him. Nothing bothered him.
And I hated him.
Because I envied that ease.
Hated his long, lovely legs poking out from beneath the desk, getting way too close to the toes of my sneakers. I really should move my legs. I didn’t want to accidentally brush his, and yet I sort of did. I was a total masochist, but then that was nothing new considering I’d stayed in a marriage I knew had turned toxic years ago.
I wet my lips.
“C’mon, Rose, give it to me.”
“I could so turn that dirty. You know that, right?”
He chuckled, the sound low and deep and making me throb between my legs. I was really super sex-deprived if just the sound of his voice could make me tremble that way, and suddenly I found myself nervous again.
“I figured you could take it,” he shot back with an unrepentant wink.
And I blushed. Freaking blushed from the roots of my hair to my toes. The bastard, he was teasing me. Turning my own boldness back on me. My heart felt like it was gonna jackhammer out of my chest, my pulse was raging like a tsunami, and I freaking loved it. I knew this flirting was nothing to him, but for me it literally felt like everything.
“Oh please, hipster, you couldn’t handle this.” I snorted, and in an unusual moment of supreme confidence, I blew him an air-kiss, making sure my lips looked as lewd and suggestive as possible. I’d always been told I had nice lips. It was my one good feature. Flaunt what you have, even if it ain’t much.
Yeah, I was being an absolute barbarian, but you know what? I needed this. Needed to feel alive, if only for a minute. And with a man whom I in no way stood a chance in hell with, but just for the fun of it.
Beneath the gorgeous meathead exterior was a freak, a dork just like me. I chuckled, ready to thank him for being a bright spot in my otherwise shitty half year, but was stopped dead in my tracks.
It was a joke, just a stupid dumb joke, but the humor in his eyes vanished, replaced again by that intense weird heat I’d seen earlier. And just like before, it was gone before I could blink.
He cleared his throat. “Why are you here?”
This time when he asked, I didn’t sense any laughter or shared camaraderie. It was like what’d just happened between us had never happened at all. He was all business, and I got it. We were at his job; this was so not the place for this.
Wiggling on the seat, I shrugged, trying to ignore the banging of my heart. “I’m here because I’m tired of being this person I no longer know.”
His brows dipped, and he looked like he hadn’t expected such raw honesty. Yeah, I was a clown, a crack-up, but there was depth in me too, and the soul inside this body was close to fracturing into a million pieces that would never be mended again. That was it, I’d hit rock bottom, there was no place left to go from there but up.
I hoped.
“I’m not here for a quick fix, Jackson. I’m here for me. To fix me. To find me again. To find the woman who laughed, who loved life, who lived it to the GD fullest. So I guess the question really is, can you handle this kind of crazy?”
A slow smile curved his lips, and I lost my breath.
Serious Jackson was hot. But flirty Jackson, holy eff, he was fiercely beautiful.
“Good answer. And by the way, I turn twenty-five tomorrow.”
I blinked. “Uh... happy... happy birthday.”
“Thanks.” He nodded, looking back down at my file.
My stomach sank to my knees and reality came bearing down on me like a runaway train. A kid.
I’d been flirting with what amounted to a kid.
It was all I could do to finish the interview, or whatever the hell it was. All easiness was gone after that. I didn’t even shake his hand before leaving, just gave a flick of my wrist, tossed out a mumbled goodbye, and hightailed my apple-bottom ass outta there as fast as my feet could carry me.
If only Kyle could see me now.