Page 72 of Jinxed Hearts

Oh, you know—and I’ve been busy juggling my double life.

“You weren’t arrested again, right?” I tease, standing by the doorway.

Her eyes widen. “Let’s not talk about that.” She waves it off. “But I have another event for you to plan. My funeral.”

I roll my eyes. “Not funny.”

“Fine, my birthday.” She sighs. “But it might as well be my funeral. I’m old.”

“You’re turning forty and in better shape than most twenty-five-year-olds.”

She shrugs. “Maybe. But I’m serious. You’re really good at this stuff.”

I half smile, unable to say no. “Looks like my schedule got a whole lot busier.”

She tilts her head, eyeing me a little too hard. “So, where have you been disappearing off to for lunch these days? You’ve been ditching me a lot.”

Her tone’s light, but her eyes don’t match.

I force a laugh, walking towards my desk. “Just errands. Target runs. The girls’ school always has last-minute spirit week stuff or random projects. They act like parents have unlimited time.”

She raises a brow. “You sure you’re not having midday margaritas without me?”

I exhale, relieved she’s letting it go. “If only. Tomorrow, lunch is on me. You pick the spot.”

“Deal.” She leans back, still watching me.

At lunch, I slip away for another “Target run” with Dylan at the same hidden spot near the bridge again. But today he has other plans. Before I can protest, he pulls me into his truck, and we go for a ride. We end up at Piercy Lake for another stolen moment carved out from real life. It’s all we have. Fleeting. Fragile. And yet, somehow, it feels like everything… and still, never enough.

Sunlight flickers off the water as Dylan strips off his shirt, his muscles flexing under his sun-kissed skin. He then flings it aside like a damn Chippendales dancer at a bachelorette party, already working on his jeans.

“Trust me?” He smirks.

“Absolutely not,” I say, crossing my arms, leaning against a rock.

“How about you drop the ‘not,’ and take a cold plunge with me… naked?”

“You’re insane!” I shout, covering my eyes.

He grins, tugging at his waistband. “You’re way too clothed.”

Before I can protest, he dives into the lake, water splashing everywhere. “Come on,” he calls out. “Live a little!”

Thunder rumbles, and a raindrop kisses my skin. Dylan runs a hand through his hair, eyes locked on me, waiting.

My heart pounds. My mind screams no. But my body moves anyway.

I strip down to my bra and underwear as I sprint to the water. The lake bites my thighs, stealing my breath. Then Dylan is there, pulling me against him, his heat burning through the chill rushing down my spine.

“Fuck, you look so good wet.” His voice is husky and teasing.

The rain falls harder as his fingers curl around my waist, and his lips crash into mine, melting the cold and the world away.The kiss is explosive. Desperate. Like it’s our only chance to be together.

He lifts me from the water, drenched and breathless. I shiver, not from the cold, but from the fire he ignites inside me every single time he touches me. I let go and wrap myself around him as he carries me back to his truck.

Dylan cranks the heat and slips his sweater over my head. It’s warm, oversized, and smells like him—like comfort and danger wrapped in cotton. I wish I could take it home and keep it forever. I curl into the seat, turning some music on while he gets our clothes and a lunch cooler.

He settles next to me, and we just talk.