Beloved (Toni Morrison Trilogy #1)(40)

His low voice halts my mental debate. “Stop overthinking. It’s dinner—we can even talk business. Plus, don’t you want to know how bad you lost and if you get your spa day?”

I grab the watch, taking a picture of his final time with my phone. I clear the display and then hand it back to him. His time was outrageously long—that makes me smile. And now that I have the proof in my phone, there’s no way he can deny it. “Fine. Dinner, but we talk about work. Then I’ll show you just how bad you lost.” I grin, walking toward the car.





I climb into the cab of the truck, laughing as I imagine his reaction when he finally sees his ridiculous time.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing. You’ll see later tonight. Unless of course you’re ready to share my time now?” I smile and bat my eyelashes.

He returns my smile and throws the truck in reverse. “Nice try, babe. But if I give you the time now, I’ll have nothing to ensure you show up tonight.”

“It’s not like I can go very far.” I really want him to tell me so I can watch his face fall when he sees how bad he lost. There’s no way he beat me. Well, there is, just not with the amount of lead-time I added in. If he still beat me, even with the extra time, I’m not only signing up for a gym, I’m getting a personal trainer.

“No, I think I have you right where I want you.” He winks and his cheek rises.

We start driving back toward the hotel, but it’s a different way than how we came. When I look off to the right the shoreline is close. It’s beautiful. The homes lining the street are all quaint little beach cottages with white picket fences and trees that cast shade over the road.

“This area is adorable,” I muse.

Jackson looks over, smiling. “I lived on this side when I was stationed here. It’s the locals’ beach on this side of the bay. You get to enjoy the ocean without the crowds.”

“So if you still have your headquarters down here, do you stay in a hotel every time or do you have a home here?”

I wondered this before but wasn’t sure how or if I should ask. Since he thought it would be entertaining to make me run an obstacle course, I think it’s fair game. If it weren’t for him, my legs wouldn’t be throbbing and my arms wouldn’t be numb.

“No, I sold my house when I moved up to New York. I kept the office here because it made more sense being close to the base. Plus, it gives me an excuse to come back to the beach and see friends.” His hand grips the steering wheel and he puts his blinker on.

“Where are we going?” I ask, confused. The hotel isn’t here, not that I know where here is. But still, there isn’t anything here but trees. I look at the sign as we turn—another military base. No. No. No. I’m not doing this again. He’s trying to kill me. “Ummm …”

Jackson laughs but doesn’t answer. He gives his ID to the guard at the gate and keeps driving forward. “Relax, this will be fun.”

My hands are clenching the seat as I try to get a grip. Jackson reaches over and grabs my hand, pulling it onto the middle console as his fingers intertwine with mine. If he keeps pushing against that wall, soon enough it’s going to crumble. Distance. I need distance. I try to pull away but he tightens his grip, continuing to look forward.

“I don’t believe you. You said the same thing about the last base we went to.”

“I had fun. Didn’t you?” he asks.

“Fun? Sure, if you call aching joints, atrocious hair, and a dirt mark on my butt from falling fun. I would call it something else, but we can go with that.” I smile even though I was going for sarcasm.

Jackson’s loud laughter fills the truck as he parks. A little nervous and afraid to see where he’s brought me, I decide to stare at him—the view is beautiful either way.

“You still look perfect even with messy hair and dirt on your ass—which I happen to be fond of.” Jackson’s brow raises and he shifts forward, coming so close our lips could brush. “I want to show you my favorite place in Virginia Beach, or would you rather go back?”

With his breath heating my face, I’m cognitively misfiring. He could ask me to strip and run the course again and right now, I would. “Here is fine.”

His smile is brighter than the sun. “Good, let’s go.”

I climb, or more like hobble, out of the truck. The sea air assaults my nose and seagulls fly overhead. I look around and it’s truly remarkable. The sand is a little whiter than by the hotel. There are no waves. It’s calm and peaceful. But what causes my breath to catch is the huge brick lighthouse. It’s very old but still perfect. The red is muted from years of wind, rain, and storms, but there she stands—steadfast and strong to guide the ships home.

I look at Jackson leaning on the hood of the truck, watching me take in the sights. He walks around and extends his hand. Instead of wavering, I eagerly give him what he wants, reveling in the way his hand engulfs mine.

“I used to come here a lot. Have you ever been to a lighthouse?” Jackson asks in a hushed tone.

“In Jersey there are tons of lighthouses. My uncle had a boat, and when I was young we used to fish right by one. I always thought they were magic.” I smile and Jackson pulls me closer to him as we walk.

“Magic, huh?”