Page 62 of Puck and Prejudice

Son of a bitch.

ChapterTwenty-Six

JACKSON

Iturn just in time to see Izzie fall into the swimming pool with her clothes on, thanks to Louisa’s furball menace.

“Oh shit!” Louisa blurts out.

Bailey is the cutest dog, but so out of control. That’s what happens when you don’t properly train your pet.

Izzie surfaces from the bottom of the pool a moment later still holding her glass.

“Are you all right?” Duncan, Louisa’s husband, asks.

“I’m fine.”

“You still have your glass… impressive,” Caroline trills in a tone that conveys the opposite of her words.

I put down the prongs and grab a towel from the stack Louisa brought outside earlier and offer it to Izzie as soon as she gets out of the pool. “Here.”

“Thanks.” She takes the towel without meeting my gaze.

Her cream-colored dress is very much see-through now, but I keep my eyes on her face. She’s blushing—no surprise there—but what’s intriguing is my reaction. I’m equal measures sympathetic to her situation... and not sorry it happened.

“At least now you’re cooled off.”

She snorts. “Glass half full, huh?”

“I’d say glass totally empty.” I reach for the glass in her hand. “Let me refill that for you.”

She lifts her chin, and our eyes meet. Once again, I’m struck by how mesmerizing her eyes are. The specks in them are gold, not amber as I had thought. “You have pretty eyes,” I blurt out like an idiot.

As moronic as my outburst was, I have the deep satisfaction of watching her cheeks turn pink. “Uh… thanks.”

“Oh my God, Izzie. What happened to you?” Jane asks, breaking the moment between Izzie and me.

I should be thankful for the interruption. I’m not acting like myself. I turn around to get her a new glass of sangria while she explains to her family why she’s dripping wet.

I bet I could make her dripping wet too.

The inappropriate thought pops in my head unbidden. Jesus fuck. What’s wrong with me?

“Now you have no choice but to put on a swimsuit,” Jane tells Izzie.

“I didn’t bring one.”

“I brought two. Come on.” Jane tugs her hand.

“I can’t go in the house like this. I’ll make a mess.”

“You can drink your sangria while you dry off.” I give her a new glass of sangria.

Our gazes connect, and I know I shouldn’t stare at her in front of everyone, but I can’t help it.

“Thanks,” she says finally.

“Yo, Darcy, I think your meat is burning,” Duncan yells from the pool.

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