Beg, Borrow, or Steal (When in Rome, #3)(75)

But then he steps so close I can feel his body heat. “I haven’t been in a bar since I was nineteen. My dad used to be a functioning alcoholic most days and then occasionally he’d disappear for days at a time and drink himself into oblivion.”

“Oh, Jack. I’ve never heard that about him.”

I could swear he’s sneering in the dark. “No one has. It was his best-kept secret that the man who could charm millions during his television interviews would get blackout drunk at night. And that when he was drunk, he would yell at his wife and rage at his son and somehow manage to twist it every time to where it was our fault for not understanding what he was going through.” This time, I squeeze his hand. “And one day, my mom was a wreck and asked me to go get my dad from a bar near our house for her. I did. And when I got there, I tried to get him to get up from the bar, but he wouldn’t budge. There were a few people watching and I was so pissed and humiliated and hurt that this was who I had for a father . . . so I told him for the first time that I hated him. I told him he was worthless and the biggest fucking fraud I’d ever seen in my life. And then he finally stood up, only to smack me in the face while everyone was watching. I brought it up to him once, several years later, and he just denied it and told me I was being dramatic and making stuff up to embellish the story. He didn’t apologize and I quit hoping for one.”

“Jack . . .” I grip his shirt and he rests his hands gently over my white knuckles.

“I’m telling you this because I haven’t stepped foot in a bar since that day. I’ve tried to go with friends before and failed because I could never fully face that memory. Didn’t want to. But knowing you were inside tonight and needed me, it got me through the doors.” He pauses. “You are not alone, Emily. I would walk through my worst memories to get to you every single time.”

My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. “Jack. Can I . . . Can you . . . Can we . . .”

He slips his hand around my lower back and pulls me up close. “Can we what, Goldie?”

“I don’t know exactly because it’s complicated being neighbors and colleagues and now a friend that I really don’t want to lose . . . but . . . I can’t ignore this anymore either. I want more with you. I need to go slow, but . . . I can’t just be friends anymore.”

His response is a kiss that nearly knocks me over. We collide in a desperate tangle. He cradles the back of my neck as his mouth slants over mine again and again. I grip his back and sides and shoulders until I ultimately settle my hands into the back of his hair. His perfect color-changing hair. It’s brown tonight.

Jack’s hands glide down my body, grip my hips, and lift me onto the counter. We never stop kissing, though. It’s the kind of desperation I assumed only existed in the movies. In books. Now it lives under my skin. Rushing through my veins.

But then all too abruptly, Jackson pulls away. Not just pulls away, he takes a full two steps backward. Opening up a cavern between us. “Shit. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

The lights turn on like the universe is forcing us to take a good long look at what we just did.

“I’m sorry,” I say, embarrassment swallowing me up. I press my palms to my overheated face. “I thought we were on the same page, but . . . this is why you haven’t kissed me again? You didn’t want to? God—I’m sorry—”

“No! That’s . . . so far from the truth.” He huffs a laugh, and his smile is so fragile and uncertain. I’ve never seen him look like this. “Believe me, I have wanted to kiss you again, Emily. Every second of every damn day. But I promised myself I wouldn’t until I was ready to be honest with you about something. And I haven’t been able to find the right time because . . .” He rubs the back of his neck and meets my eye with resignation. “I’m scared to death it’s going to change everything.”

I swallow thickly. “You have a secret family, don’t you?”





Chapter Twenty-Four


Jack


“No! I do not have a secret family,” I say to Emily, who looks like she’s sitting on pins and needles instead of a bar top.

All week I’ve been searching for the perfect moment to tell her the truth, but I’m realizing that the perfect moment is never going to come. And the longer I wait, the more difficult it’s going to be to tell her.

I walk back to Emily and stop just in front of her, not touching. My heart is thundering in my chest, and breathing has never been so difficult. Other than my agent, Zoe is the only other person I’ve told about Ranger. It was easier to tell her. I knew she wouldn’t care. But Emily . . . our long history of competition rolls out in my mind and threatens everything.

“You’re scaring me, Jack. Just tell me.”

I breathe out and rub the back of my neck. “Umm . . . shit. Okay. First, let me say, this isn’t something I tell anyone. So I didn’t keep it from you out of malicious reasoning. It’s just a secret I’ve always kept, and I plan to keep from now on too.”

Emily looks like she might be sick. The feeling is mutual.

“But I want you to know now, because . . . well, shit, no, I’ll tell you that after.”

Emily shakes her hands out like they’re wet. “Oh my god, Jack! Spit it out!”

“I’m AJ Ranger.”