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“All the more reason to ask why.”
At my eye roll, he rephrases. “Okay, so why do you avoid me?”
I toss the napkins on my tray and sigh. “What if I don’t want to answer that?”
“Since it’s our job to convince a congressman that we’re married, I figure it’s a good idea to discuss. I mean, how can I apologize or change a behavior if I don’t know what I’ve done.”
Jackson holds my gaze, daring me to look away. I hate to admit it, but he’s got a point. Kind of. If we weren’t stuck in this situation, he would never see me and thus wouldn’t know I’m avoiding him.
But we are working together, and I can see how anyone would judge me as acting like a total bitch. I drop my head in shame. This is why I keep relationships shallow_no navigating through messy emotions.
“Look. I’m sorry. I’m not normally a bitch. It’s just… Can we get back to work?”
Jackson cocks an eyebrow and keeps his mouth shut. His expression leaves no room for silence, so I let out a long sigh. “Fine. You haven’t done or said anything. I’m the problem here. I don’t know how to act around you.”
Jackson’s brows knit together, but his posture relaxes. “But I don’t want you to act around me. I want to get to know you.”
My chuckle is dark and humorless. “I don’t even know me.”
“Yes, you do. You’re a badass Marine who loves her job and hates beer. You’d give your life for those you care about, and you think I’m sexy as fuck.”
I look up, laughing with misty eyes. “Now, who’s using humor as a shield?”
Jackson only watches me instead of responding. I give up, knowing I’ve lost. “I grew up only being accepted if I became what people wanted. For as long as I can remember, I’ve molded my personality to fit whoever was around. This is why I don’t like meeting new people in social settings. There’s always a learning curve involved. Humor is my default setting because it’s the most widely accepted.”
A warm hand envelops mine, and Jackson says, “You’ve never tried to make me laugh. Why?”
I shrug and look toward the woods. “I don’t know. You’re just…extra. All my usual tactics short-circuit when you’re around. And you’re not even the hottest guy I’ve seen this week.”
Jackson relaxes on his bench and grins. “Looks have nothing to do with it. Well, maybe a little. I throw you off because you’re attracted to me on a deeper level.” He holds up a hand when I start to object. “Wait a minute. Before you lash out, I say so with confidence because you throw me off just as much. And I am definitely attracted to you.”
This isn’t happening. There’s no way. No one has ever pursued me, outside of guys looking for random hookups, not even Trace. I always had to make the first move with him, even after being together for months. And now, Jackson wants me to believe he desires me after only seeing my bad side?
My guarded heart is skeptical, as always. Real or fake, Chelsea? Real or fake? Since it’s impossible to know, my paranoid mind refuses to yield. I pull my hand from beneath his. “Whether what you say is true or not, you said so yourself. I have self-esteem and trust issues, and nobody is that patient.”
“Then let’s take the pressure off. Let me be a friend.”
Jackson’s offer is so tempting, but I know me. I push around a crumb on my plate and look up again. “I don’t think I can. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, and I swear I’m not trying to be difficult.”
“I know you’re not,” he replies softly. “We’ll just be respected colleagues, then. At this point, we kind of have to be since we’ll be married in twenty-one days.”
I scoff loudly and very unladylike. “Keep that shit up, and I’ll be a widow in twenty-two.”
Jackson grins and offers his hand. I reluctantly accept, we shake on it, and my newly minted partner drops his elbows to the table. “Now, tell me about the Marines.”
Right at two hours later, we walk back to Birdie’s office, this time side-by-side. Knot waits with her, leaning his large frame against the wall. “You guys figure your shit out?”
“Um… Which?” I ask him.
Knot shakes his head, chuckling to himself before walking out the door.
“Ok. Let’s get started,” Birdie says with a clap.
Jackson and I settle into her guest chairs and slide forward, ready to get to work. Our knees are nearly touching, but I no longer have the urge to pull away.
“Alright. I’ve been thinking. We obviously need to hide everything about Chelsea’s past, but Jackson, it makes the most sense for you to go as yourself. Your real military background will make it easier for Harding to trust you.”
“That makes sense,” the SEAL says. “That means Chelsea will probably need to come from money. Otherwise, how else could we explain the mansion in Spain?”