Page 14 of Just One Look

Jackson

“So, are you going to tell me why we’re here?”

Pip asks for the second time since we entered Bunny’s.

I ignore the question again and flag down the bartender.

“Your usual?”

I ask. Pip nods, and I place the order.

“Two vodka sodas and one classic red sangria, please.”

Pip bumps me with his elbow.

“With extra ice,” I add.

I tap my fingers against the counter while the bartender gets our order. It’s been a day. Actually, it’s been a tough few days, and I need a drink and someone to talk to. In that order.

I pay for our drinks, and we find a quiet, well-lit spot at a high table near the back of the bar.

“You’re not going to punch anyone again, are you?”

Pip asks, lifting himself up onto the stool.

“Not tonight, no,”

I say, throwing back a swig of vodka number one.

“Good. I’ve seen enough violence to last me several lifetimes.”

He sure has. I can’t even begin to imagine some of the fucked-up shit he’s witnessed. And maybe even experienced himself.

“So if we’re not here for you to beat someone up, why are we here?”

I take another swig, letting the vodka settle on my tongue before swallowing it, feeling the burn scorch my throat on its way down.

“We lost a horse today,”

I announce glumly.

“Oh, shit. Which one?”

“Wheeler.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long shot. He came in with a neurological condition a few weeks ago that made it hard for him to stand or walk safely. The vet prescribed meds, but it didn’t help. He had a seizure this morning. I had to make the call to let him go.”

“That’s such a hard thing to go through. You did the right thing, though. The compassionate thing.”

I lift the tumbler and take a big gulp.

“Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Is that why you look so…”

Pip circles his hand in front of me.

“Like this?”

“That’s part of it. It’s been a week from hell.”

“It’s only Wednesday.”

“Exactly. It started with a tough training session with Chips on Monday. He came at me and sent me flying. Everyone at the sanctuary has been pissing me off more than usual. No one uses their fucking brain. I know Maverick is doing a staff review, but he needs to hurry the fuck up and get rid of all the deadwood.”

I drain the rest of my drink.

“I’ve also had a killer headache for the last two days. Bottom line, I’ve been in a mood. Which I may have taken out on a few staff…and Maverick.”

Pip’s eyebrows shoot up.

“What did you do?”

I shuffle in my seat, not proud of the way I spoke to him today.

“I was rude to him. Flipped him off in front of his friend. Refused to meet him in his office. Basically told him that even though he owns the place, he’s not the boss of me, and I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Pip’s mouth falls open.

“Why did you do that? I thought after the way you two were the other night at Clancy’s, things would be moving in a totally different direction. A direction that involved less clothes.”

I’d wondered about that, too. I had a really good time with him. He’s easy to talk to, interesting, and attentive. Fantastic boyfriend material. But I’ve well and truly fucked things up now.

“Well…” I start.

“What happened?”

I push the empty glass away and slide my second vodka to within pickup range. I’m going to need it for this.

“He kissed me.”

Pip gasps.

“You’re kidding?”

I circle my hand in front of my face.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Holy shit! This is great.”

“It is not great. And stop smiling like that. You’re worse than Clancy. Neither of you have cute smiles, just for the record.”

“I’ll smile however and whenever I like, thank you very much. This is great news! Why do you not see that?”

I make a start on vodka number two.

“You know why. Remember that little speech I made to everyone last weekend?”

That settles Pip down. Nothing like a life-changing diagnosis to snuff out the possibility of something good. He chews on a piece of ice for a while, then says.

“Your condition doesn’t prevent you from pursuing something if you want to.”

“But I don’t. Not now. The timing is all wrong, and Maverick is all wrong.”

“You don’t honestly believe that, do you?”

Truthfully? No, not entirely. Under different circumstances, I could definitely see myself being interested in the guy. But life isn’t about hypotheticals; it’s about dealing with the hand you’ve been dealt. No matter how crappy it is.

“I have a firm boundary about this,”

I tell Pip.

“I’m not interested in dating anyone. Especially not Maverick.”

“Why especially not him?”

he prods. He’s like a dog with a bone sometimes.

Because I may actually like him.

I knock back half the glass at once.

“Because I said so, that’s why. Boundaries are boundaries, and boundaries don’t need to be explained.”

“I’ll give you fifty bucks if you stop saying boundaries.”

My lips twitch.

“Sorry. Look, I know this might not make a lot of sense to you, but I’m going through a lot, and I just don’t have the capacity to deal with anything else at the moment. I’ve hit my limit.”

“I can understand that. I won’t push anymore,”

he says. I bring the rim of the glass to my lips and fix him with a skeptical look.

“Okay. I won’t push any more tonight,”

he admits with a goofy smile because, just like Clancy, he’s incapable of letting shit like this go. He takes a sip of his wine and scans the bar. His face drops. “Oh no.”

“What is it?”

I ask, looking out into the bar. I can make the first few figures out reasonably clearly, but behind them, everyone else is blurry outlines.

“Ridge Duporth is here.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to be on my best behavior and keep my hands to myself.”

Pip ignores me, staring out to where I assume Ridge is. “Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“He saw us.”

“What’s he doing?”

“He just smiled and…fuck.”

“What?”

“He waved.”

I follow the direction Pip is focused on, lift a hand into the air, and give him the finger.

“What’s he doing now?” I mutter.

“Not smiling.”

“Good.”

Pip turns back to face me.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on there?”

“Nope.”

He releases an exasperated huff.

“You’re just as pigheaded as Clancy.”

“I can say the same about you.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll let the Ridge thing go because it’s probably nothing anyway. On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You tell me all about the kiss with Maverick.”

I shake my head but accept his terms anyway. The less I think about Ridge, the better. The less I think about Maverick, the better, too, but that one is proving a lot harder to stick to.

“It was…pretty good.”

Pip rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Pretty good? Pretty good? You kiss one of the…say it with me…hottest eligible billionaires in the country, and it was…pretty good?”

“Okay, fine. It was extremely good. He’s a very good kisser.”

I feel the apples of my cheeks lifting, and shit, I’m smiling just recalling the single best kiss of my life.

It might have had something to do with it being so unexpected. I didn’t see it coming at all. One minute, we’re in the middle of a fight; the next, he draws me into him and brings his lips to mine.

Definitely one way to shut me up.

Or maybe it was the timing, coming so soon after making the hard decision to euthanize Wheeler. I was feeling terrible about that, lashing out at Maverick like a total jerk, and then he sprung something so beautiful and tender on me. I was vulnerable and totally powerless against it.

“Real talk, Jackson,”

Pip says, tilting his glass to swirl the sangria around.

“Are you ready for some truth bombs?”

“No.”

I polish off the rest of my second and final vodka of the evening.

“But please don’t let that stop you.”

“If you’re not ready to admit with words that you like Maverick, that’s fine.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He groans, like my denial physically pains him.

“If we did a side-by-side of your face when we got here tonight and your face a few seconds ago when you drifted off into la-la land, thinking about the kiss, you’d get it. But let’s push your delulu to the side for a minute, shall we? Because we need to deal with a more pressing matter.”

“Enlighten me, please. I’m on the edge of my seat,”

I mutter dryly.

“You guys work together. You can’t go on fighting with him because one, it’s not cool to treat your boss like shit, and two, at some point he might actually have enough of your behavior and fire you. And then what? You may have bluffed well and fooled him into thinking you’d quit, but we both know that center is your life. Is it really worth risking?”

“That’s it. You’re right.”

I tap my knuckles against the wooden table, excitement skittering through my veins.

“You’re absolutely right.”

“I am?”

His head jerks back.

“I mean, I know I am. But just to clarify, why don’t you explain it to me in your own words.”

“What if my whole attraction to Maverick is based on the fact that we argue?”

“Huh?”

“You know me. I get riled up. I see an injustice like rich assholes moving to Silverstone and taking over, I get pissed off. When Duporth runs his mouth about me, I get angry. Rage is sort of my MO.”

“Sort of?”

Pip scoffs with a grin.

“But see, what if the thing I like about Maverick is that he pushes my buttons?”

“I’m not following.”

“I need to take the heat out of it. The more we fight, the more feelings get involved.”

“Kind of messed up, but that tracks. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying the best way for me to stop this thing with Maverick going any further is to change our underlying dynamic.”

I tap the table a couple of times, thrilled with myself for having come up with such a great idea.

“Screw fighting with the guy. I’m going to be nice to him.”

Pip arches a brow.

“And by be nice, you mean acting the way a normal person would?”

“Exactly. Let’s see how he likes that.”

He shakes his head.

“Jackson, I love you to pieces, but sometimes you really are…say it with me…batshit crazy.”

I cross my eyes and stick my tongue out.

“I know, right?”

Because that’s precisely the point.

This idea is so wild, so unexpected, so left of center, Maverick won’t see it coming.

And that’s exactly why it just might work.

“What are you doing here?”

Maverick asks.

I’m perched at one end of his desk with a laptop open in front of me, bright and early the next morning. I’m not wasting any time implementing my genius idea.

I aim the sweetest smile I’m capable of at him and reply.

“I thought we could discuss ways to reduce veterinary expenses.”

As he approaches his desk, he comes into sharper focus, the charcoal slim-fit jacket he’s wearing wrapping snugly around his shoulders.

“You do?”

he asks, dropping his leather briefcase beside his desk.

He unbuttons his jacket and drapes it neatly over the back of his chair. Despite owning the place for over a month now, for some odd reason, he hasn’t given up wearing a suit. His biceps flex under the navy-blue cotton of his shirt as he props his hands on his hips, curiosity flickering across his face.

“I do. I checked your diary and saw you’re free this morning, but if now isn’t convenient for you, we can reschedule this meeting for another time if you prefer.”

He drops into his seat and shakes his head, as if he’s trying to make sense of things.

“Diary? Meeting? Reschedule? Why are you using professional words?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Maverick?”

I ask, leaning forward, my voice bordering on overbearingly syrupy.

“To be professional?”

“Yeah,”

he says slowly. “But?—”

“But what?”

I steeple my fingers for possibly the first time ever in my life.

“You’re scaring me.”

Excellent.

I test the limits of my smiling ability, stretching my lips to show as many teeth as I can. I might be pulling it off, or I might look deranged. Too early to tell.

“Oh. Why is that?”

“For starters, you’re smiling. That’s…unsettling. Then there’s your voice. You sound like a news anchor who’s popped one too many Prozacs. Then, let’s see, what else? The fact that you’re here, in my office, using a laptop, wanting to discuss reducing costs, I’m…I’m confused.”

“There’s no need to be confused. It’s really quite simple,”

I reply sensibly.

“Our veterinary bills are through the roof. I think it’s time we discuss partnering with a clinic and negotiating a service level agreement.”

Maverick’s jaw falls slack.

“What is happening here? None of this makes any sense.”

And that is entirely the point.

I keep smiling at him as I prattle off more reasons why teaming up with a vet clinic makes economic sense.

From the moment I laid eyes on him outside Bunny’s, Maverick has done nothing but confuse me. He’s a rich, entitled asshole who makes it hard to keep thinking he’s a rich, entitled asshole because he doesn’t do typical rich, entitled asshole things.

He does sweet, considerate things like making soup for people when they’re sick. Or heartwarming things like hanging out with his adorable nephew. Or trust-building things like sticking to his word when he says he’s going to do something. Or lust-inducing things like filling my head with all sorts of unwanted images of what his body might look like underneath that corporate armor he insists on wearing every day.

I can’t allow my interest and attraction to him to go on unabated.

If I want to make it stick—really stick—that nothing can happen with Maverick and me, I’m going to have to bring out the big guns. Avoiding him at work hasn’t worked. Throwing up in front of him hasn’t worked. Heck, even acting like a rude jerk didn’t put him off.

In fact, that’s what earned me my first kiss.

And our last kiss.

I need to extinguish whatever this is between us because nothing more can come of it. And since everything else has failed, I’m going to have to resort to the one option I haven’t tried so far: I’m going to act professional, I’m going to be nice, and I’m going to kill Maverick Benson with kindness.