Mine Would Be You (20)

I thought he was happy with me, but I was wrong.

I pause, looking away from Jackson’s watching blue eyes, and focus on the slightly crooked bowtie around his neck. On his hands on my waist, my hips. And I wish my dress was thinner so I could feel their heat.

His eyes burn a spot on the side of my face as we sway for a second in silence.

“I don’t know all—or really any—of the details like you do, but whatever it was that happened, it does matter. His friend or not, he’s wrong for not being clear,” he says, shrugging as if it’s that easy, that black and white. He looks down at me. “But I guess I wouldn’t be dancing with you if it worked out differently. So, I won’t complain.”

I shake my head softly, my eyes flickering back up to his. Unsure of who exactly this honest, open man really is. And why he’s spending time with me.

Jackson has a way with words, and everything he says sticks to my skin like mist. A small part of me knows I’m dancing, flirting even, with Myles’s best man. But that is the sober, more rational part of me, and the tequila is doing a good job of pushing that away.

“You cut your hair.” He dips me to the song before pulling me back up. “And we match.”

He pauses our dance and lifts his pant leg dramatically, as if on a runway, to show me the red socks he has on. They match my dress perfectly.

This time, a tiny smile breaks through at the sight of him giving me a fashion show on the middle of the dance floor.

His smile is wide, both dimples flashing at me, like he doesn’t care who sees.

I feel the gaze of many eyes on us, but I don’t look away from Jackson and his addicting energy as he pulls me back into the beat of a second song, slower this time, and we fall into step. This time his hand holds mine up by his chest as the other finds its place on my hip.

“Took you long enough to give me a smile.”

“Eres un tonto,” I mutter as my free hand lands on his shoulder. The muscles under my fingertips move as he laughs, and I can’t help but thumb over them gently.

“You’re killing me.” He leans down to whisper in my ear, “I’m going to have to learn Spanish to keep up with you.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to keep up with me.”

Jackson raises a brow. “I don’t think that’s the case,” he says. So self-assured.

My skin flushes as his cheek brushes past mine. And I hear the accent again. It’s soft, hardly there, but I hear it. It’s not overbearing at all—instead it’s light. Barely a hint half the time. “Charming southern boy, are we?”

He grins. He’s always grinning. I kind of like it. “So, you figured it out?” I nod, and he continues. “Born and raised in Georgia. Was only right to stay there for school. And somehow I ended up here.”

“I bet that southern appeal works like a charm for the girls,” I say, because I’m not blind to the number of eyes that have been on him all day. From the ceremony to now, it’s like he’s impossible to miss. He’s bright and warm, and when he walks into the room, people’s eyes go to him like a moth to a flame.

“Jealous?” He raises his eyebrows, those blue eyes sparkling.

“Never,” I say as he dips me again, but slower this time.

His hand slides lower on my back to keep me stable, and his fingertips brush the open skin above the back of the dress. The brief contact sends little sparks up and down my spine, like lightning bugs, and my pulse speeds up as my skin sings under the softness of his touch.

He shakes his head softly, his short curls unfurling near his forehead as we fall back into step, and he gives me a gentle smile.

“You’ve got this energy around you. It’s strong but quiet, like a brewing storm, but it’s there. I like it.”

“Well, we can’t all be warm and sunshiny like you now, can we?”

“It’s all the love,” he says dramatically, but I raise a single brow. “I guess under the circumstances, I understand. But come on, love is great.” He pauses. “Love should be great.”

“I agree, it should be.” I shrug. “But it isn’t always.”

“You make it seem like love is a death sentence.”

“Maybe it is.”

I look up at him, and somehow, someway, his lips are still quirked up into a soft smile. He spins me around, and my dress fans out around my legs until I come back into him. My back is pressed against his chest as his arms cage me in, and his warm breath hits my neck, effectively sending chills down my spine.

“You know, Nina, even the darkest storms have to let a little light in eventually.”

His lips are so close to my ear, I’m convinced they’re touching me. But it’s a phantom feeling, like the memory of our drunken kiss. I’m hot all over. From the tips of my ears, deep in my belly, and all the way to my toes. Jackson sets me on fire. He squeezes my hands gently before he spins me back around and recaptures one hand in his own. This time our chests are lightly touching, and those deep blue eyes are focused solely on me.

My cheek is just barely resting on him as his words settle over me, and I breathe in the hints of amber and vanilla wafting off him. I lean in. The physical touch, his touch, is comforting to me.

As I open my mouth to attempt a response, there is a tap on his shoulder from Lewis, mentioning something about some wedding duty or thing that needs to be done. Lewis gives me a smile as he waits for Jackson, and we step away. An instant chill hits me when his hands leave my waist.