Page 71 of One Time Only (One Time Only 1)
“I’m not in love,” I whisper.
He squeezes my shoulder. “By the way, your boyfriend’s back.”
I whip my gaze so fast to see Jackson stroll back in, and Zane cracks up. “Busted. So busted.”
I drop my face in my hand and groan.
He squeezes my shoulder again. “I won’t even collect. I just want you to say I was right.”
“You’re not right,” I grumble.
There is no way I can be in love. No way at all.
When Jackson and Grams rejoin us, I repeat that mantra, even as they talk about the musical Jackson’s sister’s going to be in, even when he shows her pictures of Bethany, even when she asks him all about his family.
Even when I hang on every word.
But I’m not in love with him.
I swear I’m not.27JacksonAfter the game ends with the Hawks coming back in the fourth quarter, we pile into Stone’s limo and peel away from the stadium. I told the backup bodyguard I’d cover him the rest of the evening, so he’s done for the night. The driver winds through the streets of Las Vegas as the four of us chat, recounting the game-winning touchdown, the energy in the stadium, and the play that the quarterback pulled out of his pocket at the last minute.
“That’s why football is an awesome game,” I say.
Stone’s grandma nods sagely. “I couldn’t agree more. But I do like baseball too, so if you ever feel like going to a ball game, you know where to find me,” she says with a wink.
Zane’s lips round into an O as he nudges her elbow. “Grams, are you trying to take Stone’s bodyguard out on a date?”
“I like having someone to chat about sports with who knows what he’s talking about,” she says.
Zane brings a hand to his heart, gasping. “I know sports.”
“But not like Jackson,” she says, patting his knee sympathetically.
He mock-pouts as I smile at her. “I will talk sports anytime, Marianne. And I would love to go to a baseball game with you.”
Stone turns his gaze to the window, but I catch the hint of a smile on his face, almost like he’s trying to hide it.
We drop them both off, since Zane is going to spend the night at her house. When we get back in the limo, I close the door, and now it’s only us. Stone doesn’t even say a word. He slides closer to me, stretches his hand across the seat, and reaches for mine. As the car pulls away, he threads our fingers together.
My heart stutters.
“I want to do this in public,” Stone says, his voice warm, like whiskey.
“Me too.”
“So many times, I’ve wanted to take your hand when we’ve been walking around. Put an arm around you.”
I look at our joined hands, bring them to my lips, and plant a kiss on his knuckles. “I want to do the same. Kiss you on the cheek. Ruffle your hair,” I say, reaching my free hand across to show him what I’d do. “Put a hand on you, but not as your bodyguard.”
“You’d do all that? In public?” He sounds surprised.
I laugh. “Out and proud, babe. Out and proud.”
“Well, I know that now. I just like the idea.”
“I’d do all that with you. Anywhere, anytime.”
Stone leans his head back against the leather seat, sounding dreamy. “I’d be amenable.”
“If you weren’t my boss, I would.” I squeeze his hand harder. Rub my thumb across the top of it. These are his instruments. This is the way he makes music, the way he entertains crowds.
And right now, after hours, I get to hold these hands and touch this man.
“I’m not your boss,” Stone says softly, a futile denial.
I link our fingers more tightly, like I can send a message through touch—and the message is don’t lose sight of the truth. “You are, and you know what I’m saying.”
With a heavy sigh, he whispers, “I do.”
“And that’s the trouble, isn’t it?” It’s not the first time I’ve mentioned the problem. The big problem. But it bears repeating. It’s not going to disappear. We can’t sweep it under the rug.
“Yes, that’s the damn rub.”
As we pull into the portico of The Extravagant, the car slows, but I don’t let go of his hand. Instead, I inch a little closer and lean into the make-believe. “But if you weren’t, I’d get out of the car, open the door, put my arm around you, and walk into the hotel like that.”
His green eyes sparkle even in the darkness. “Like Jackstone.”
I laugh. “You know our ship?”
He shrugs lightly. “I’m not oblivious to the internet.”
“I thought I was, but then my sister mentioned it to me,” I say as the limo stops.
“And what do you think about the fact that we’re shipped?”
What do I think? I love it. It makes me so damn happy. It feels like all the possibilities we can’t have.
