Chapter 8

8

JACK

Planting her hand on my hip, the woman in my room, who apparently found my bed Just right, says, “Yeah, Jack. I came here to woo you in my Halloween boo pajamas. The real picture of seduction.” The sarcastic words slip out, sounding a little annoyed.

I’ll admit she’s kind of adorable with her messy brown hair and sleepy eyes. She’s medium height with a buttery tan—she must be enjoying the resort amenities. A smattering of freckles splatter her nose and the smooth skin of her cheeks.

“Not a morning person, huh? It’s not like I barged into your hotel room,” I counter, unsure why she’s so hostile.

“Not a you person. Maybe the night in the Jeep, eating cheeseburgers, and then sneaking a swim—not to mention our long conversation—didn’t mean anything to you.” Her expression crushes in on itself before she replaces it with one of annoyance.

I balk, trying to recall who she is, but come up blank much like I did with Cassandra. It doesn’t help that I can barely see her since she’s syncing her circadian rhythm or whatever .

“Listen, I didn’t ask you to come here. If this is about the game, my conversation with Remy—or wait, Aston didn’t put you up to this, did she?” This has @QueenAston written all over it.

Her jaw lowers because she has no idea what I’m talking about, she’s deflecting guilt, or shocked that I’d accuse her of doing something so absurd.

Bark Wahlburger whines, making my stomach sink like I’m as far from the truth as I am from winning another hockey game.

Squinting in the low light, I step closer, still in the towel.

She moves to cross her arms in front of her chest and her finger catches in her hair and the hoop earring she must’ve slept in. “This isn’t fair. You’re not allowed to look this handsome, dare I say, alluring with a bit of woo in your swagger—while I’m so hideous in my second-hand pajamas and muddy Big Bird-in-a-windstorm hair.”

My eyebrows shoot up, amused at the description.

Brown eyes bulging as if realizing what she said, she adds, “Oh, um, that’s just me talking in my sleep.” She attempts to make a snoring noise that sounds more like a snort.

A laugh escapes.

But she huffs, shutting me down, then tosses the pillows around, looking for something. One flies toward my head.

“Oops. Didn’t mean to try to take you out.”

With a chuckle, I deftly catch it. Bark Wahlburger snags one in his mouth like a frisbee.

“What a good boy! The dog. Not you.” Her lips bunch together. “You’re a first-class jerk.”

“Are there other classes?”

She grumbles in response.

Crossing the minefield of pillows, I throw open the curtains, letting the pale gray light of early morning pour in .

“I’m not ready for that.” She turns abruptly away, practically cowering and shrinking into the shadows like a creature from a lagoon.

Only she’s not. She’s beautiful, backlit by the glowing sun as I step into her space. She radiates warmth, yet goosebumps pebble my skin. I swallow.

I wasn’t ready for that either. My breath catches.

Her hair is messy, but in a sexy way. Those big brown eyes that I’ve thought about more than once sparkle, and her curves are deliciously feminine.

My thoughts come to me slowly, fitting together one piece at a time. “Tell me what’s …” but my gaze lingers, lengthens as I take her in.

“Wow. I must be the most atrocious thing you’ve ever laid eyes on.”

I shake my head, blinking because this cannot be.

She proffers a slim smile. “My ego is on fire, drowning, and being smashed to smithereens all at once.” She starts to turn, as if ready to cut her losses and she mutters something about getting her stuff when she cleans up later, but it doesn’t make sense because finding her here again, after all this time, seems impossible.

I grab her wrist and the wrinkles in my memory smooth and my voice surfaces as if from a dream, I ask, “Jasmin?”

A shaky breath escapes her chest and she nods slightly.

I feel myself brighten with the sun and an amused smile lifts onto my lips. “Your hair is longer, lighter.”

“And out of control.” She smooths her fingers through the strands like an old nervous habit.

“No, I like it. I mean, it’s natural.” And that was one of the many things about her—she was so real, genuine, very much herself, even though I still don’t know her real name.

I whisper, “Jasmin. It can’t be. ”

She nods, then tips her head from side to side.

I ask, “Did you know this was my suite or?—?”

Holding up her hands as if approaching a large animal—and a medium-sized one given the dog—she carefully says, “No, nothing like that. I don’t know who Aston is and I’m not sure what you meant about a game or anything else you said. I just, um, needed a place to sleep.”

I regard the bed like a sailor who’s been out to sea far too long. She follows my gaze and sighs as if she knows the fatigued feeling well. “Yeah, me too, but can you explain?”

Glancing at the clock, she says, “Maybe later?”

“Promise?”

“No. This is humiliating. I should officially spend the rest of my life in a hermitage—whatever that is.”

My lips quirk with laughter. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”

She squawks a laugh as if that’s absurd and pulls her wrist out of my hand. I hardly realized I was still holding it, though now I’m chilly like I’m on the ice without my uniform.

I bite my lower lip, unable to quell my smolder. “So later? Goldilocks, meet me for dinner.”

She rapidly shakes her head, eyeing the door like a cornered but very cute animal. “I can’t.”

Concern ripples across my features and I take a step closer. “Are you in trouble? Hiding from someone?”

She blurts, “Yes. No. Kind of.”

Decreasing the space between us, I incline my head, ready to take down anyone in this world who so much as thinks about touching a hair on her head. I’m not sure where the carnal rage comes from, but I dare anyone to cross me.

She presses her fingers to her face. “I would like a full Halloween costume—mask included—because my cheeks have never been redder. ”

Breezing past her comment, my expression sharpens. “Listen, I can help you. Whatever you need?—”

“No, it’s not like that. Much. However, I do live in fear of whenever Slater returns to the island, which could be any day now. Thankfully, I haven’t heard another word about the son of the billionaire gracing us with his presence, but I’m ever vigilant.” She squeezes my biceps as she continues to ramble before her lips fall slack.

I chuckle. Not going to lie, I like having this effect on her. “I think we could both use coffee for this conversation.”

“Your intimidating muscles would’ve come in handy after Slater and I had a blowout argument and I ended up with a broken finger. It gets achy ahead of a rainstorm.”

“Who? He what?”

Bark Wahlburger growls in warning. That’s my boy!

I run a palm up her arm and grip her shoulder. “If there is anything I can do?—”

At my continued touch, the heat in her cheeks spreads like wildfire through the rest of her body. Or maybe it‘s me that’s burning up. She wears a foggy expression and her heart pounds. Or perhaps that’s mine.

“You don’t have to do that. Everything is fine. Fine-n-dandy-o.” Her mouth forms a circle and she glances at the bed as if wondering if she can crawl underneath. “The clock is ticking and I can’t be late. I’m so close to my raise.”

“Dinner, please? Same thing as last time,” I say, my voice scratchy.

She hesitates for a long beat. “Fine. I can’t say no to a burger and milkshake. Fries, too.”

I chuckle. “Using me for a meal and not my charming personality and good looks?”

“It’s the puppy dog eyes.” She gestures to Bark Wahlburger. “They tipped the scales. ”

My lips quirk with a grin. “Same place, earlier time. How about seven?”

“Seven p.m.? I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Full day at the spa?”

“Something like that.” She mutters about cleaning.

I yawn and point to the wardrobe. “I should put on some clothes.”

“Yeah. Me too. I mean get dressed. I have to—” Flustered, she waves her pointer fingers in the air and then flies into what very well may be housekeeping mode as she starts un-making the bed.

“You don’t have to bother. I’m getting right back in it,” I say.

“But I can refresh the sheets and—wait, you just got here?” What looks like hope plays peek-a-boo in her eyes. “Does that mean I was right about that being your watch?”

I nod.

She bites her lip, studying me for a long moment.

If only we could rewind.

“I’ve had a long few days. The whole week.” I slide my hand down my face as fatigue suddenly catches up to me. “Seriously, make yourself at home. I’m just going to—” I flop onto the bed. My eyes drop closed.

Before I pass out, I hear her whisper, “Folks, nothing to see here, except a lot of skin even though he’s still in the towel.”

I chuckle. My pulse races for multiple reasons, and it’s the only thing telling me that I’m not already dreaming.