Lifting me slightly away, he gazed up into my eyes, giving me that hazy, happy look of his, and my insides turned to melted crayons, a permanent mess.
“Finish this sentence,” he whispered, his attention trailing down to my lips. “I love it when Rae . . .”
Hmm. “When Rae?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
He wore the small, secretive (and shy) smile I loved so much, pulling me down to whisper in my ear, “Guess you can’t totally read my mind.”
I dipped my mouth close to his ear and finished his sentence, “—yet.”
Chapter 20
*Raquel*
“I think Mick Jagger would be astounded and amazed if he realized that to many people he is not a sex symbol, but a mother image.”
David Bowie
“I’m starting to understand what you meant about Jackson being a boy scout,” I whispered, smearing suntan lotion on my face and neck in front of my mirror.
Nor, apparently, could I read his mind.
Charlotte stood behind me in the doorway to my bedroom, a coffee mug in her hand, and I met her eyes in the mirror. She and the kids had spent the night. The kiddos were at the main house, Charlotte had slept with me in my bed, and Miguel slept in the second bedroom that had become his room. Dave slept on the couch in the living room, he said he preferred it.
I was currently getting ready for my fourth fishing date with Jackson. Every Wednesday morning at 5:00 AM, he picked me up in his truck, hauling his beautiful boat behind him, and we drove over to a big lake. He’d told me the story of the lake on our first date, some sort of old gold mine that the locals filled up with water. Now it was a huge fishing spot but also quite secluded; the lake could only be accessed by those who had property around it. Jackson used a friend’s property, backing his truck up to their boat launch.
Anyway, we would launch the boat, he would park in front of his friend’s house, we’d get on the boat, and we’d spend all day fishing and just generally having the best time talking about anything and everything. But no touching. Like, never. Never ever. And it was driving me ca-ray-zee.
“I warned you.” Charlotte sent me a sympathetic look, her voice raspy with sleep. She’d woken up around 4:30 AM, even though summer school was now at an end and she could sleep in if she wanted.
“You didn’t warn me, it’s not something to warn me about. It’s—” I huffed, turning and motioning for her to come inside my room and shut the door. I didn’t want Miguel or Dave to hear this. One of them would be getting up soon to follow me to the lake. They didn’t come on the boat with us, but they parked in front of the empty house and waited for us to finish fishing.
At first, I’d felt bad. But then Dave told me to get over it. “It’s my job, Raquel. I don’t want you feeling bad about me doing my job. If I didn’t like this job, I’d get another job.”
Dave was good people.
Charlotte closed the door and crossed to the bed, sitting on the corner of the mattress. “If me telling you that Jackson is a boy scout wasn’t a warning, then what was it?”
“It was two friends talking about their dating experiences and preferences.” I stood in front of her, spreading the extra suntan lotion up my arms. “Jackson is wonderful.”
“Yes. He is. But he was a boy scout with me for months, we had no spark at all.” She took a sip of her coffee, inspecting me. “But I thought things were different with y’all. I’ve seen your chemistry firsthand, I figured you’d been using that boat as your love shack. It’s got a bed, right?”
“It does have a bed,” I said, the words coming out like a wistful lament. “It has a double bed, and he keeps it covered with a tarp, and on top of the tarp he’s placed supplies.”
“You mean he’s gone and put a chastity cover on the bed?” She chuckled, shaking her head. “He’s reverting to his puritan ways. You need to do something about it before the time finally does come and he keeps a sheet between your bodies when you have sex.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing, but it didn’t help. I still laughed, my shoulders shaking.
She wasn’t finished. “Then he makes you wear a scarlet—”
“Okay, stop. Just, stop and help me figure this out.” I sat next to her on the bed.
“I’m happy to help, but first you have to tell me what’s going on. Or, you know, what’s not going on.” She gave me a meaningful look.
I knew exactly what she meant. I’d been tight-lipped about stuff with Jackson. I felt certain he didn’t want Charlotte—or anyone else—to know the details of our relationship. But I needed to talk to someone. Surely it was okay to speak in generalities?
She must’ve seen my reluctance because she sighed, setting a hand on my knee. “Listen, I don’t need details. In fact, I don’t want them. But if you have a problem and you need help, you should be able to talk to someone about it. If you don’t talk to me, who can you talk to?”
“Sienna?”
“And?”
I shrugged.
“Oh, baby.” She patted my knee. “Then just talk to me. You know I won’t say a word to anyone.”
“Do I know that?”
Her mouth dropped open.
I rushed to explain, “You and Sienna were gossiping about Jackson that one night, and although none of it was bad, per se, I know he doesn’t want to be the subject of any gossip. I know it bothers him. I also realize you would be doing me a favor, helping me think through this, but I need your promise that whatever I say never leaves this room. You will tell no one.”
A frown of concern appeared between her eyebrows. “It bothers Jackson? That the womenfolk talk about him and his legendary sexual prowess? I thought guys ate that kind of stuff up.”
I shrugged again, not willing to divulge more on this specific subject. She didn’t need to know the depth of Jackson’s aversion to being gossiped about, or why he felt so strongly about it. Just that he did.
“Okay, yes. Absolutely. You have my promise. I will say nothing. And I’ll shut down talk when I hear anyone else gossiping about him. I’m—I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s in the past. Now you know. Don’t beat yourself up.”
“I’ll try not to. I care about him, you know. He’s always been one of the people around here who has never pitied me—for what happened with Kevin. He’s a good friend. So, I’ll be a better one.” She wore a self-deprecating smile, patting my knee again. “Now, let me help. Tell me what the issue is.”
“Jackson won’t touch me.” The words burst out, and I covered my face.
“Like . . . at all?”
I shook my head.
“But I thought—wait a minute. Y’all were missing from the group Friday at the jam session. Sienna found you all flustered with your shirt untucked.”
“Okay. Yes. You’re right. There was that one time.” I dropped my hands from my face.
In addition to our fishing excursions, I’d also seen Jackson sporadically over the last month. Sienna had invited him over for dinner a few times, we’d run into each other downtown while I was with Charlotte or at the community center for jam sessions on Friday nights.