Page 29 of Body Check

“It’s nothing.”

The last thing I hear before the elevator doors close is, “Tell Jackson I say hi!”

11

Holly

Tell Jackson I say hi.

Dammit. I hate that Carmen knows me way too well. And that smug tone in her voice? Oh yeah, she knows exactly where my brain went when I spotted Jackson.

My shoulders slump, both from the weight of the bag strapped to my back, as well as with the internal battle I war with myself. I should go up to my room. Shower. Take out my contacts. Jump in bed in preparation for the 5 a.m. wake-up call we’ve all been handed in order to make our flight back to Boston.

My body will thank me for the sleep.

My damn cramps will weep with relief as soon as I retrieve my heating pad from my suitcase and put it to good use.

My feet, however, have different plans, and I find myself heading straight for Jackson. I try not to dwell on the fact that I could be heading into awkward territory—when was the last time either of us sought each other out for more than just a quick, business-worthy conversation?

Ages ago.

It honestly feels as though a time never existed where I could leap into his embrace and freely wrap my arms around his solid mass, my palms rubbing the hard muscles of his back.

Nerves collect in my belly like hundreds of butterflies set in a jar with the lid sealed tight. I feel their silky wings whispering against my skin, somehow ending up in my chest, pushing at my throat until I’m right there, standing just behind him, trying to think of something witty to say.

“Want some company?”

There’s no mirror along the bar, and he’s at a complete disadvantage.

I can see him, but he has nothing to go on besides my voice—and in that quiet place where my weaknesses live, I wonder if we’ve been strangers for so long that he doesn’t immediately recognize the sound of my voice anymore.

His ball-cap-covered head lifts and his shoulders visibly stiffen, and I worry that I’ve made a critical error in judgement.Crap, crap, crap.I silently order my feet to move, to hustle me back to the elevator where I can pretend that none of this happened. They’re rooted to the carpet where I stand.

Jackson swivels on the barstool, his shoe hooking on the neighboring stool’s foot rung. His elbows land on the bar behind him, and his biceps curl and flex under the thin fabric of his T-shirt—the thin fabric which has lifted far enough to give me a glimpse of his skin and the beginnings of a happy trail.

When I jerk my gaze up, my cheeks flushed, there’s nothing in his expression to indicate that he feels the same chaotic pull that exists within me. And when he speaks in that gravel-pitch drawl of his, he’s as smooth and as unaffected as I’ve ever heard him.

“You lost, Holls?” His dark eyes flit to the elevator behind me. “Or are you needin’ some help with all your gear?”

I want to take that stool next to yours. I don’t want you to look so alone.

Sometimes talking doesn’t cut it and so I say nothing at all.

Instead, I set the tripod and light reflector down on the floor and suck back a pained moan when I slip the backpack from my shoulders and lower it next to the tripod. Unzipping the front pocket, I pull out my wallet and keep my gaze on the bar as I lift myself onto the stool.

“What’re you drinking?” I ask my ex-husband as I flag down the bartender. “Beam and Coke?”

It’s his usual—the same thing he’s been ordering since we met so many years ago.

“Just Coke tonight.”

Orwashis usual.

I stave off a wave of disappointment that even his love for Beam and Coke has changed.

As Jackson turns on his stool, and as his knee grazes the outside of my left thigh, I smile brilliantly at the bartender when he stops to ask what I’m having. If Jackson had been drinking whiskey, I would have matched him with a cocktail to settle my nerves. As it is, I reach for a black beverage napkin and murmur, “Do you have any hot tea on hand? Green or jasmine? I’m not picky.”

The bartender slides me a small, flirty smile. “Can I see your ID, miss? Just gotta check to see that you’re of legal age.” He leans in, his blue eyes locked on my face and that flirtatious grin still playing at his lips. “Don’t need you stumbling your way back to your room after living so dangerously with your drink of choice.”

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