“Yes.”
Jackson winced. He set his plate down and crawled over to me. Pulling me into a hug, he reclined onto his back, bringing me with him. My cheek pressed to his chest, his arms around my body, and I closed my eyes.
“It’s his loss. I can’t imagine meeting you and not wanting to know you,” he said firmly, making my insides feel warm. “Did your biological father have any more children?”
I expelled a heavy sigh. “Yes.”
“How old are they?”
“I don’t know. I think the youngest is nineteen or twenty.”
Jackson’s fingers began stroking my upper arm in a way that felt absentminded. “What are they like?”
“I’ve never met them.”
His fingers halted. “Really?”
“Really.” I frowned at the sky, my heart pinging, and muttered, “I’m not even sure they know I exist.” My stage name was different from my real name, Raquel Ezra instead of Raquel Zanella. But even if I used my real name, I had no reason to believe my father had ever told them about me.
“They’re over eighteen. Have you ever thought about reaching out?” His absentminded touch started up again, the gentle strokes lessening the dull ache in my chest that typically accompanied any thoughts about this subject.
“I have, but . . .” But what would I say?
Hi. I’m not Kent Brockman, I’m Raquel Ezra. You may know me from such films as Starlight Express and Tabitha Tomorrow. I also happen to be your half-sister. Want to grab a coffee?
And what if they said no? What if they—like my father—didn’t want to know me?
“But?” he prompted when I didn’t continue.
“Can we talk about something else?” I snuggled closer to his warm body, leaving the disturbing thoughts behind by draping my leg over his hip and an arm over his chest. Touching him made everything in me soothe and settle. “What about your family? Your dad is the sheriff, right?”
“He is. He’s. . .”
“It’s okay.” I gave him a little shake. “You can talk about your family, you’re not going to upset me if they’re awesome. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.” Lifting my head, I twisted and placed my hand on his chest, pushing up so I could see his face. “I want to know about you.”
He gazed at me, and I felt his fingers sift through my hair as he admitted, “They are awesome.”
I smiled, turned, and resettled against him, gazing up at the blue sky. “I figured they were.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. You’re just—I don’t know. You seem so well-adjusted. Almost too well-adjusted.”
“You make well-adjusted sound sexy or something.” He laughed, and that made me smile wider.
“It is. It’s so sexy. And your manners. Politeness is sexy to me. You’re . . . grounded. You seem to really know yourself.”
His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and then he tugged on me, changing our positions so we rested on our sides facing each other, but not touching. His handsome eyes moved between mine, like he was searching for something there. “Did you mean what you said?”
“You mean about being your nice, dedicated, hard-working, struggling, unfun woman?”
He grinned, but then quickly tried to arrange his mouth into a serious line. His gorgeous bedroom eyes gave him away, though. They continued sparkling with humor. I love his eyes.
“Yes, Rae. Do you really want to be with me? For more than one night?”
“Yes. Absolutely. I do. I want many nights. I want to give this a try, for real.” I nodded, my hand moving with a mind of its own to grab the hem of his shirt. “Do you want to be with me?”
“Yes. Very much,” he said, his voice a tad rougher than before, and my heart swelled. THIS IS HAPPENING!!!
But then Jackson’s gaze narrowed. “If you don’t, at any point, all you have to do is tell me. I’m not ever going to push you into staying with me or doing something you don’t wish to do.”
That made me smile wider. “I know that. You’re a little infuriating that way.”
“Infuriating? How so?”
“Because it makes you hard to read. Most people, when they want something, they push, or they ask. But not you. I think maybe you see even the act of asking for something you want as pushing.” My hand slid to his and I threaded our fingers together. “I want to be with you, Jackson. I want to give this a try. But I need to trust that you’ll tell me what you want, or you’ll ask, and not believe yourself to be pushy, or impolite, or a bad person just for asking. There’s never any harm in asking, it’s not you imposing your will on me. I’m a big girl. I can say no.”
Jackson frowned, his eyes dropping to the vicinity of my chest. I knew he wasn’t staring at my boobs but rather considering my words.
“And,” I added, “I’ll let you set the pace. I can be patient. We can take things as slow as you need. I’m in this to win this.”
Abruptly, he said, “Okay,” giving me back his gaze. He looked determined. “Okay, I’ll try.”
“Good.” I gave his hand a squeeze. “From now on, I will assume you are asking for what you want and know I won’t go running to the high hills in terror should you make a request.”
He squeezed back, chuckling. “And on that note. Rae. Would you like to go fishing with me on my boat this Wednesday, because I would like to take you fishing.”
I was nodding before he’d finished his sentence. “Are you kidding? Yes, yes, yes!” Flinging myself at him, I ended up lying on top of his body as his back rolled to the blanket. Since I had him in such a delightful position, I peppered his face with kisses and straddled his hips.
His big hands slid to my waist and held me still. “Wait, wait a minute. I have some rules.” He lifted his head to steal a kiss from my lips, then held himself away.
“Okay. Tell me.” FISHING!
“No touching.”
I immediately stilled. And then I lifted myself up, straddling his hips, and crossed my arms. “What?”
“As I’ve said, I’m crazy about you. And every time we’re together, we end up—”
“—almost having sex.”
His long body seemed to stretch and tense under me, his hips shifting restlessly. “Yes,” he said, his voice roughened. “I’d like to get to know you, just be with you, talk. I know there’s this—”
“—pull between us.”
“Exactly. And I want to—”
“—get to know me better without thinking about sex the whole time. I feel exactly the same way.”
“Great.” He squinted at me. “Are you going to keep—”
“—finishing your sentences? No. But I am enjoying the fact that I can totally read your mind.”
Laughing, he slid his fingers from my jaw to my temple and into my hair, guiding my mouth down to his and kissing me sweetly. I gripped the front of his shirt, wishing he’d kiss me less sweetly, but knowing it would be a bad idea. Things between us tended to spiral out of control quickly. And we were in a field. In public. We’d be lucky if some paparazzi a-hole hadn’t filmed us already using a camera drone.