Jackson (Wild Boys After Dark, #3)(16)

Except now she couldn’t help thinking about it.

Jackson wasn’t the kind of guy who would ever settle down—that much she knew for sure. But still, as she slid the ring onto her finger and held it up to inspect the anomaly, part of her wished he’d been the one to present her with the ring, with a future.

With his love.

***

JACKSON STEPPED INTO his jeans and slid his feet into his boots. He hadn’t heard Laney leave the tent, but it was her absence that had woken him. When he’d rolled over and reached for her, he’d discovered that the bag with their cooking supplies was gone, as was her backpack. Laney liked to camp, but she also liked to be clean. He groggily lumbered through the woods toward the lake, where he was sure he’d find her bathed, dressed in clean clothes, and probably sunning herself on the rock again.

Even though the sun was shining, the woods smelled moist, like it might rain. Leaves and sticks crackled under his heavy boots as he neared the edge of the woods. Laney sat on the blanket wrapped in a towel, her hair still bone dry. She turned slightly toward the sun, and Jackson’s stomach sank when he saw the engagement ring on her finger. She lifted her chin, admiring the damn thing and probably thinking about Bryce and what a great life they’d have together.

He shifted his eyes away, clenching his jaw tight and fisting his hands by his sides. He had no business being angry, or being bothered at all for that matter. He didn’t want to switch places with Bryce. He wasn’t interested in walking down the aisle. But he didn’t want her to, either.

Jackson closed his eyes for a moment to regain control of his emotions. Then he strode determinedly out of the woods, keeping his eyes trained on the water, and washed his hands in the lake, his back to Laney.

“You brought that thing with you?” He hated that he snapped, but at the moment he had about as much control over his emotions as a rabid dog. He probably should have gone back to the campsite, but he wasn’t a wimp. He could deal with this. He heard her scrambling behind him, and the snap of the jewelry box resounded like a cannon in his ears.

“You knew I had it in the car,” she snapped back. “What was I going to do? Leave it there to get stolen?”

“Leaving it at home would have been a good start,” he grumbled, feeling exactly like the jerk he knew he was acting like.

“Well, I didn’t, so…”

He heard her walk toward him and sensed the heat of her standing behind him. She pressed her hand to the small of his back, and he closed his eyes, telling himself to calm the f*ck down.

“Why are you so grouchy this morning?” As she moved to his side, her hand slid along his hip, then hooked in the waistband of his jeans.

Because I’m f*cked up about your proposal.

When he didn’t answer, she picked up a washcloth and dunked it in the water, then soaped it up and began washing her legs. She was good at letting him stew. Usually it was something he admired about her, but at that moment his thoughts were clawing to be heard. But they weren’t clear and present—they were muffled and confusing—and before he could take the time to weed through them, they spilled angrily from his lips.

“You should accept his proposal.”

“Why?”

Out of his peripheral vision, he watched her washing her gorgeous legs, the legs that his face had been buried between last night. The legs he knew by scent, by touch, by the gentle pressure she applied as she locked them around his waist when he was buried deep inside her.

Fuck.

“He’s a good guy. You should marry him.” He shifted his eyes away as she reached beneath the towel to wash the rest of her body.

“Really? I didn’t expect you to say that.” She was so matter-of-fact that it pissed him off even more.

“What the hell do you want, Laney? He’s a solid guy. He loves you. He’s offering you what every woman wants.” He crossed his arms, a barrier between his aching heart and the awful words spewing from his mouth.

“You really think I should consider it?” She sounded dumbfounded, but he wasn’t about to turn around and look.

One look at her right now, when his emotions were so raw and he felt so powerless, and he knew his resolve would crumble and he’d beg her not to accept the proposal.

“Yes.” He walked toward the fire pit they’d made yesterday.

“Fine. Maybe I’ll consider it.”

He spun around, shocked by the ease with which she’d caved. “What? You’re going to consider the very first proposal you get?”

Her jaw gaped and her eyes widened in a look of shock Jackson had rarely seen. “You told me to! I trust you!”

“Fine!” Fuck!

“Fine?” She was yelling now, stomping out of the water toward him with a dripping washcloth in one tightly fisted hand and a scowl on her gorgeous face. She poked him in the chest—hard.

“If you have something to say to me, just say it. Stop *footing around.”

He ground his teeth together, unwilling to take her bait. It would do him no good to tell her that he didn’t want to lose what they had.

“Well?” she challenged, eyes narrow, arms trembling as she crossed them tightly. Then her gaze softened and she dropped her eyes to his chest. “That’s all you’ve got? You tell me I should marry him and then you clam up?”