Page 47 of Second Chance Vacation

I don’t know how he always manages to do that.

He doesn’t give me much to work with for details on what he has planned for us. I am staring into the bathroom mirror, biting my cheek. Jackson asks that I wear the same dress from the other night, so I comply. I stare at myself with far more scrutiny than the other day. Jackson appears in the doorway, leaning his weight against the doorway with his arms crossed. He is the picture of arm porn with the sleeves of his button-down pushed up to his elbows, allowing me to admire his muscular forearms.

I don’t know when that became a thing for me, but when it comes to Jackson, I can’t look away.

“Eyes up here.” Jackson smirks, pulling my attention to his face.

Blood rushes to my cheeks, leaving me flushed. He approaches me to stand only inches in front of me. I think he is going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. Reaching past me on the counter, Jackson grabs his cologne before spraying himself. My senses are assaulted with the bergamot and cedar, leaving me in a sated fog.

“You still wear that?”

He looks down at the Guerlain Vetiver bottle in his hand, the familiar green label facing upward.

“Of course I do—I’ve always worn this.”

Always.

Always since I saved up my babysitting money to buy it for him for his sixteenth birthday. I picked that scent because I liked it, but I’m unsure if he remembers that. That smell has so many memories attached to it. It smells like home.

“It smells nice.” I force a smile.

“I like yours too.” He grins, reaching for the roller ball on the counter,JERSEY Chanelprinted on the label.

“Thanks.” I gulp at his proximity.

“May I?” he asks, his tone hushed as he unscrews the top of the small bottle.

I nod before he pulls the roller ball to his nose, inhaling the floral scent. A faint smile forms as he presses the cold metal ball to the skin right below my ear. A gulp catches in my throat as the contact is gone as soon as it arrives. Jackson then moves to roll the perfume along my collarbone, lingering for a moment before pulling it away. His eyes hold a heat I can’t quite place. Pressing the ball to my wrist, he lifts my hand in his own, pulling my wrist to his nose.

He expels a sound of approval before dropping my hand, leaving me with bated breath.

“Are you about ready?”

“Y—” I gulp, “Yes. I just need to put on my shoes, then I’ll be ready.”

“Great.” He pauses, looking down at me. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

My eyes find the mirror again. This time, my face flushed beyond deniability.

Quickly, I grab my strappy heels from the bedroom floor, making my way to meet him in the entryway.

We arrive at a restaurant we haven’t been to since we arrived in Saint-Tropez. It seems way outside the scope of what Savannah would choose for us. Still classy, but not near the water, and definitely less of a tourist magnet.

Edith Piaf’sLa Vie En Roseis being played by the house band while a beautiful young woman sings the classic French tune. She is maybe a couple of years older than me, but her voice is timeless. Jackson presses his hand to the exposed small of my back as we approach our table.

He speaks French to the server so quickly I don’t catch it. He swiftly approaches with a bottle of white with a French script I don’t recognize on the label. Jackson takes a sip from the tester the man pours, meeting him with a nod. He leaves the bottle on the table, the only sound between us coming from the band.

“What? I don’t get to taste the wine?”

“You’ll like it, I promise.” Jackson winks at me, providing a healthy pour of the wine as he hands me the glass.

He is right, I quite like the wine he chose. I was never a wine person until I was old enough to choose it, so I am unsure of how he was so confident that I would like it. Swirling the wine in my glass, I look toward him.

“Are you excited to join Baker & Park?”

Jackson pauses for a moment before speaking, “I am. I mean—I wish I could have gotten it without my dad calling Stephen, but it’s a good opportunity.”

“There is no shame in using your connections.”

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