Page 102 of Then You Happened
“They’re wildflowers.”
“They’re pretty,” I murmur as I lean over to smell them.
“I thought they fit you. I thought they fit your wild.”
And if I had dismissed my earlier thoughts of how he had taken a little piece of my heart, blaming them on my exhaustion, I now know I was wrong to do so.
Now I know he has.
36
JACK
“I don’t think I can move.”
&
nbsp; Her groan is as loud as the sky is colorful. When I roll my head on the grass where we’re lying to look over at her, her eyes are closed, her hair is a tangled mess on top of her head, and she’s covered in dirt and grime.
She’s fucking beautiful.
“We’re still not done,” I murmur as I close my eyes and exhale. I need a beer. I need Tate beneath me moaning. I definitely need some food. And I fucking need my phone to stop vibrating text alerts from my sister.
But I don’t necessarily need those things in that order.
“Almost through.” She groans again. “Just a few more things. But, hell, I’m impressed with how much we’ve gotten done.”
“This place looks incredible,” I say and fight the urge to roll onto my side and kiss her soundly.
If I do that, there will be no stopping me, and the last thing Will and Sylvester need to see is us rolling around naked.
Her unexpected laughter bubbles up, delirium edging its sound. “Do you have any idea just how many Jack Suttons there are in the world?”
Internally I freeze and hope she didn’t just catch the hitch in my movement her question caused. Has she made the connection somehow?
“You looking me up, Knox?” I ask, trying to make the playful tone drown out the sudden worry I have.
Another soft chuckle as she reaches out and grabs my hand, threading her fingers through mine. “You aren’t exactly an open book.”
“Says the woman who’s more guarded than a goddamn vault.” When I squeeze her hand, the cool grass beneath them feels nice. It’s odd for me to even notice that, but I do.
“You’ve been here almost three months now.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Where is she going with this?
“We worked together for one. We’ve been sleeping together for the other two . . .”
“And?” I ask without looking at her. She wants to know what happens when the next three months finish and my contract is up.
When I have to tell her the truth about why I’m here and break her heart . . . and her trust.
“And nothing. Never mind. I’m just tired and hungry and thinking way too much.”
“I told you who I was, Tate.”
And I did.
I just never told her who I wasn’t.
