Page 9 of Hidden & Held

The scary part is I think he means it. “You, two nights ago. But you can always tell me again.”

A slow grin spreads across his face as a laugh rumbles low in his chest. God, I like the sound of it far too much.

“Yeah?” he asks quietly, “Good. I was planning on repeating myself.”

He leans in closer, and instead of repeating himself, he kisses me.

“I think it’s time I show it too.”

My whole body pays attention as his thumb brushes along my jaw, igniting every nerve-end.

He presses forward, forcing me down until my back is flat against the counter, slipping his hand behind my head to cushion it. His hands move down my sides, skimming my torso with the lightest of touches, his dark eyes never leaving mine. His fingers edge the side of my leggings to pull them down when his phone rings.

He groans and gently pulls back, reaching into his low-slung sweatpants to adjust himself before grabbing his phone from his pocket. My body, which was burning with want, is doused with ice water. I don’t like the interruption and how easily it pulls him away.

“It’s my mother,” he comments, clenching his jaw. “Hey Mom, what’s up?” Jackson says, tilting back slightly, his hand absent-mindedly tracing the inside of my thigh in slow sweeps as he listens to whatever she’s saying.

“Yeah, I can’t wait. I’ll see you tomorrow. Uh huh, love you too.” He ends the call, looking back up at me.

“Your mom is coming tomorrow?” I ask, trying to keep my voice level.

“Yup. Her, Dad, and my grandfather.”

“So,” I begin nervously.

“So,” he mirrors, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“I’ve been thinking …” I say carefully.

“Oh no, which project do you want to tackle now? We already added that paver patio, which was back-breaking work, mind you.”

I laugh. “Yeah, but watching you carry all that heavy stone and putting them into place was worth it.”

He smiles, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “All for you, Sugar.”

I playfully grimace at the nickname, even though every time he says it, I get a jolt of pure electricity. “No, not a project. About the whole keeping this”—I point between us—”quiet thing.”

He waits for more. No leading or filling the silence; it is both fantastic and unnerving how good a listener he is.

“There aren’t any rules about fraternization in the employee agreement. I checked,” I ramble.

“Of course you did,” Jackson teases. “Besides, you told me you like to keep your personal life private, and I get that. I’m the same way.”

I nod like that makes sense, not wanting to push for something neither of us may be ready for, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

“You’re right, work should stay separate.” I look away, mumbling, “I wish Cassandra knew you were off limits though.”

“What was that?” He moves his face in front of mine.

“Nothing.” Why did I say that? I hurriedly add, “I’m not saying billboards. But maybe starting small. Your family is coming this weekend.” I’m trying to remain neutral, like I haven’t already rehearsed this twice in my head. “It might be a natural way to⁠—”

“Hey.” His hand finds my knee, his thumb moving in a slow arc. “I want that. I do.”

He pauses, thinking over his next words. “But my mom will make it a whole production. She’ll have opinions, and questions, and she’ll love you immediately, which sounds great but also means she will never leave you alone again.” Something tender flickers across his face. “I don’t want to drop all of that on you yet. This is still new.”

The thought of his mom liking me doesn’t sound like something I need protecting from, but I’ll trust his judgement.

“That’s fair.”