Page 20 of Under Southern Stars
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SOPHIA
“Sophia?”
I look up.
Jesus Christ.
Jack’s standing there in dark jeans and a button-down that makes his shoulders look broader. His hair’s still damp from a shower, and there’s a tiny shaving cut on his jaw that makes him impossibly human.
But it’s the shirt that catches my attention. Unlike the loose EMS uniform that usually hides everything, this button-down is definitely a size too small, pulling slightly across his chest, outlining muscles I’ve been pretending not to notice for weeks. The fabric stretches just enough to hint at abs underneath.
He has to have done that on purpose.
I feel heat creeping up my neck.
“Sorry I’m late.” He slides into the seat across from me, and I catch a hint of soap and something woodsy. “Had to beg Morrison to cover the last hour. Cost me three shift trades and my dignity.”
“You look…” I stop myself before I say something stupid. Like commenting on how that shirt is doing things to my concentration.
“Like I own real clothes?” He grins, tugging at the collar self-consciously. Maybe he knows it’s too small. “You look incredible. That dress is…yeah.”
We stare at each other for a moment, the reality of this hitting us both.
“So,” he says finally. “This is weird.”
“Extremely weird.”
“Want to get wine and pretend it’s not?”
“God, yes.”
He signals the waiter. “Do you have a…” He peruses the wine list briefly. “2019 McKenzie Estate Otago Pinot?”
The waiter’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Excellent choice, sir. That’s a particularly good vintage.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Jack says casually, then glances at me. “If that’s alright? Or would you prefer something else?”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, wondering briefly at the coincidence of the name.
When the waiter leaves, Jack leans back, studying me.
“For what it’s worth,” he says quietly, “I was going to ask you anyway. Just…hadn’t worked up the nerve yet.”
“Really?”
“Really. Though Dr. Lee’s face was a bonus.”
I laugh despite myself. “Tasha’s probably started a betting pool by now.”
“Rodriguez already tried to get me to put twenty on whether we make it to dessert.”
“Did you?”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Fifty on us closing the place down.”
The wine arrives. The waiter presents the bottle with particular care, and I notice the elegant label, with what looks like mountains in the background. Jack examines it briefly, nods approval.
