Page 23 of Second Chance Vacation

“Gen!” Savannah’s voice rings from the other side of the bathroom door, a sound of concern in her voice. “Are you okay?”

I pause, my eyes darting up to Jackson’s. The look on his face is unreadable as I drag my hand from his grasp.

“Yeah,” my voice cracks, but I push through, “just a surface burn. I’ll be right out.”

“Okay. We’re wrapping up. Ours is probably enough for the four of us to eat, I think.”

“Sounds good, Sav.”

I listen for the sound of her feet hitting the tile, fading away as my eyes don’t leave Jackson’s. The air is thick with what just almost happened. I’m positive he is going to speak, but as seconds pass by, I only feel the air get thicker with his silence. Time exists in a vacuum.

“You should probably ice that,” he cuts through the silence like a blade. His eyes continue to captivate mine.

“Oh—okay. I’ll grab some.” I gulp.

“Viv—”

I shake my head. I’m not about to talk about what just almost happened. We can pretend nothing happened becausenothinghappened.

My eyes stay on his. He seems just as determined to keep my gaze as I am to break it. After what feels like the longest moment in existence, I manage, by some small miracle, to grab the doorknob and pull it open with the focus that he previously stole.

TEN

JACKSON

Of all the ways I envisioned our trip going, I didn’t expect Gen to shut down and not talk to me for days entirely. I also didn’t imagine spending my evening currently pinned in the corner of a dark club, leaning against the bar, as a platinum blonde beauty talks my ear off.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy female attention, but I amfixated. My gaze is stuck on Gen across the dance floor, twirling around to the repetitive electronic music, venturing into the eardrum-blowing territory.

It has been two days, and I can finally say that I feel a routine forming; too bad it isn’t the kind I want. Gen hasn’t ventured to my side of the bed since that first night, and honestly, I think that has given her a level of confidence she didn’t have when we first arrived. That would be fine if it wasn’t paired with her being up before I wake up every morning and to bed well after me every night. It is as if developing a distance between us is giving her a stable footing she is clearly holding onto, and I don’t have it in my heart to push her even if I want us to talk.

“You want to dance?” The unfamiliar glazed-over cobalt blue eyes twinkle up at me. If I was another man, I would tell her to kick rocks, but I don’t have it in my heart to hurt her feelings. Her name is Marie, and she and her sister are in town from London for a bachelorette party. Is she celebrating her best friend…or is it her cousin? I stopped listening to her a while ago. Marie is on what looks to be her fifth gin martini, and it is hitting all hundred and twenty pounds of her like a ton of bricks.

“I’m not a big dancer.”

I force a reassuring smile as my eyes divert back to the chocolate waves coasting over tanned skin. Gen is a transfixing vision as she moves rhythmically to the thumping bass. Savannah’s hand skims over the delicate skin of Gen’s exposed curves, her shirt riding up with every new movement she makes. The two girls move around each other fluidly as Wes stands off to the side a few feet away. I have to admit, he is excellent about giving Savannah space to exist independently.

If the guys in this club were looking at my soon-to-be fiancé like that, I would be livid. The thought of a ring on Gen’s finger causes my lip to quirk upward, but the thought is soured as I remind myself that while that is bound to happen, it probably won’t be from me.

I shift myself out of my trance and back to Marie when I notice I am venturing into asshole territory. It is only then that I realize she is now talking to another guy on the other side of the bar.

Something tells me she will be just fine.

Pulling my pilsner to my lips, my line-of-sight drifts back to the dance floor only to find Wes now dancing with Savannah and Gen dancing with a stranger. A familiar feeling of possessiveness crawls up my spine.

Absolutely fucking not.

I don’t know what comes over me in that instance, but I find myself intervening before I can find the will or interest to stop myself. Pushing through the crowded dance floor, I am at Gen’s side within a matter of seconds.

“I’ll take it from here, man.”

I smirk at him, smarmy in nature. I’m giving myself the ick, but I will be damned if I let some spray-tanned douche in a dance club in France touch Gen.

“Buzz off,” he says, his thick French accent toying with my patience as he shifts his attention to me for a split second before looking back at Gen with a grin. The doe-eyed expression she is sporting makes it clear that I have made a grave mistake, and she will make me pay for it.

I don’t care.

“Let me talk to my friend for a sec.” Gen forces a smile, tilting her head to indicate for him to walk away. I don’t allow this to give me a false sense of calm. She is fuming.

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