Page 31 of Tides of Discovery
Jack laughed. “What’s the point of a menu with options if you always choose the same thing?”
This was the same good-natured argument we’d had dozens of times before. The tension in my shoulders eased.
Nikki returned with our drinks and took our orders—the smash burger for me and the pastrami melt for Jack. Fries and shakes, of course. Once she left, Jack leaned forward slightly and took my hand again, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“We need to discuss something important.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper.
“What’s that?”
“Pet names.”
I nearly choked on my iced tea. “Pet names?”
“Couples have pet names for each other,” Jack insisted.
“I am not calling you ‘snookums,’” I stated flatly.
“What about ‘honey bunch’?” Jack suggested. His eyes danced with amusement. “Or ‘cuddle muffin’?”
Despite myself, I laughed. “Those are horrible.”
“‘Sweet cheeks’?”
“Getting worse.”
“‘My little espresso bean’?”
That pulled another laugh from me. “You’re making these up now.”
“‘Java joy’?”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
Jack’s smile widened. “I’m just trying to find the right one.” His eyes softened. “How about I call you ‘baby’? Simple, classic.”
The word sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Baby,” I repeated, testing it out. Somehow, despite its simplicity, it felt right coming from Jack.
“You like that one?” His voice gentled.
I nodded, heat creeping up my neck again. “It’s…not awful.”
“High praise from Cooper McKay,” Jack teased. But his eyes were warm, and he touched his foot to mine under the table. “Baby it is, then.”
The way he said it, low and intimate, made my stomach flip again. We were just temporary, I reminded myself firmly. That I was enjoying this so much was simply…unexpected.
I hadn’t anticipated how natural this would feel—the easy back-and-forth, how effortlessly we’d fallen into this rhythm of banter and affection. We’d always been comfortable together, but this felt different.
It was dangerously easy to lean into Jack’s space, to let my fingers linger in his hand, to speak in the softer tones that couples used when they thought no one else was listening.
Every shared glance felt loaded with meaning. Every laugh came too readily, too genuine for mere exploration.
It felt more like coming home.
Our food arrived and forced us to separate our hands. I missed the warmth of Jack’s touch immediately, which was both confusing and mildly alarming. I was supposed to be taking things slow.
Dinner continued in an easy ritual. We fell into our usual rhythm of conversation. But underneath it all ran a current of something new, a heightened awareness of Jack’s presence across from me. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. The comfortable way he talked. The warmth of his crooked grin when he smiled.
Had he always been this endearing, or was I just noticing it now because of our bargain?
