I gasped a little as I visualized the movement of his hips as he hovered over me and what lay beneath his jeans.
Needing to distract myself, I made small talk with Pedro as I kept busy, keeping the table full and replenishing the drinks.
Hadn’t I apologized? Hadn’t I chased him for over a mile trying to explain myself? I stood fuming as the workers dispersed and Jack remained in his position, fucking beautiful and completely out of reach. I cleaned up quickly, no longer able to handle his blatant disregard for my olive branch. With each piece of trash I threw away, I mourned our late night talks, and the possibility of a new tradition of being naked in the meadow with him. I hated his absence and his silence.
He was giving me a taste of my own medicine. I got his message loud and clear.
I left a single sandwich and drink on the table for Jack. Looking up to him one last time, I found him staring right at me. His stare was curious, as if he was seeing me for the very first time. I met his stare but only for a moment, afraid he would see the truth of what his rejection was doing to me. Seconds later, I walked out the doors, less the burden of food I walked in with and yet heavier with the idea that I may no longer have Jack to look forward to.
Guilt had proven to be my biggest hindrance in moving on without Grant. It wasn’t just the sex with Jack. It was the feeling that went with sharing the most intimate part of me with him. I’d assumed our attraction was mostly physical, but Jack was both disarming and charming without bounds. He’d lifted his figurative finger at me in summons, and I’d walked toward him willingly. What I had not counted on was the new algorithm that danced in my heart.
After my shift, and another day of painful silence, I decided on a plan b. I walked into the center, claiming the bottle of Maker’s that we’d started on. I went home to shower and jumped into my convertible before I had a chance to second-guess my actions. I pulled into Jack’s motel and sat outside in my car next to his bike, working up the courage to approach as I took sip after sip of bourbon. Memories of the way it felt to be filled by him trickled in and out as I took a deep breath then pushed open my car door. I stood outside his room, hesitating only briefly before knocking softly twice.
“Jack?”
I got no answer and looked back at his bike, puzzled. Sudden fear crept over me that he might not be alone. I jerked away from the door. My heart pounding as every worst-case scenario raced through my mind, I gave the door the one finger salute.
“Temper, beb,” Jack said behind me as he caught the bottle I almost dropped when he startled me. He slid his key into the door, a fresh bucket of ice cradled in his arm. “I saw you pull up about thirty minutes ago. I like my booze on ice.”
Cheeks heated, I followed him into the room and blew out my embarrassment with my breath.
“You thought I wasn’t alone,” he said as a statement as he pulled my purse from my arm then set it down on the table next to the bed.
“Yeah,” I said, refusing to play games.
“Why?” he said as he took a seat at the edge of the bed and placed his hands on his thighs. I wanted nothing more than to bare myself, tear off my clothes and dive into him, knowing what he could do to me. I didn’t want meaningful conversation, not tonight. I wanted to be handled and by Jack.
“Because, Jesus, I mean, look at you.”
He tucked in his lip, his face hard with disdain. “Yeah, well, I don’t think that way.”
“You are totally sexual,” I protested as I took a step away from the door and picked up the bottle to pour our bourbon.
“Only with the women I want to be sexual with,” he said harshly.
“Why are you so defensive?” I asked as he took a mind-numbing drink out of his glass.
“Because you put me here,” he said, aggravated.
“This was a bad idea,” I said as I went for my purse and gripped my keys.
“Take off your clothes.”
“What?”
“Take off your clothes and we’ll see just how bad of an idea