The room was set up to put Hallie’s sister in the spotlight. There was a table in the center of the room covered in white linens to accentuate her and her husband-to-be’s bloodred formal wear （yes, Riley had opted for a red suit to match his bride）。 A huge, glowing chandelier hung over their table, literally putting them in the spotlight.
Everyone else was seated at white tables dispersed around the room in near-darkness, aside from the candelabra centerpieces.
Hallie had to hand it to her sister; the girl knew how to create a mood.
“So what’d you two do all day?” Chuck had already loosened his tie, and it was very crooked. “I figured we’d run into you somewhere.”
“We just walked around the town,” Hallie said, thinking about the way Jack had been nervous about their facade and their sleeping situation. The way he’d referred to their friendship as something to protect. “What about you guys?”
Chuck and Jamie launched into a story about getting stuck hiking with family, but Hallie couldn’t focus. Her skin was prickly with awareness of Jack’s proximity, of zippers and calves and soapy showers.
What was wrong with her?
The minute they finished their story, Hallie stood and said, “I’m getting a drink.”
She walked over to the bar, regretting that decision instantly because she’d been able to avoid relatives all day by sneaking away with Jack, but now she had no escape. By the time she finally had a vodka cranberry in her hand, she’d spoken to a handful of cousins and three uncles.
And none of that had cleared Jack out of her head.
The meal was finally served, but she wasn’t even hungry. She was too . . . antsy to eat. She mindlessly participated in dinner conversation, and she was beyond grateful that Jack had swapped their seats, because Chuck and Jamie were keeping him entertained, so Hallie was able to silently spiral in peace.
I was this close to begging her to go back to the room with me.
“Hal.”
“Huh?”
Jack was looking at her questioningly. His blue eyes searched her face for something and apparently didn’t find it, because he said, “Come outside with me for a sec?”
Her heart started pounding in her chest and she just nodded.
“We’ll be right back,” he said to the table as he linked his fingers tightly between hers and led her out of the room and into the hallway. Her mind was spinning, but she couldn’t think of anything specific, which was bizarre. She just felt . . . nervous . . . ?
He didn’t take her outside, didn’t stop until he reached an unlabeled closet. He pulled open the door, led her inside, then closed the door behind them. The closet smelled like a mix of bleach and clean laundry, and it was dark except for the tiny bit of light coming through the door vents.
She could barely see his face.
“What are you doing?” she said as he turned so her back was against the door.
“Why are you freaking out, Hal?” he said, his voice deep and a little husky in her ear.
She wanted to deny it, but this was Jack. He knew her too well. Her breathing felt shallow as she said, “I don’t actually know.”
She could smell whiskey when he spoke. “Does it have to do with what I said about begging you to go back to the hotel room?”
She swallowed. “I mean—”
“I knew our games were a bad idea.” She could feel the closeness of his body, even though they weren’t touching, and he said, “I’m not losing you over sex. For the rest of the weekend, I think we should fake date without any of the PDA bullshit.”
Disappointment surged through her; his suggestion was kind of the opposite of what she’d been thinking. She said, “Well, wait a minute—that’s a little rash, don’t you think?”
He chuckled darkly in her ear. “Then what do you suggest?”
“Um,” she said, not wanting to give up the intimacy they’d shared since arriving in Colorado, “maybe we just set a hard and fast rule about sex.”
“That it has to be hard and fast?” he growled, and she felt his teeth on her earlobe.
“You know what I mean, perv,” she said in a near-whisper.
“I do.” He nuzzled his nose against her neck, his breath streaking over her skin. “We solemnly swear not to have sex this weekend, no matter how many times you bite me.”
“Exactly.” She laughed. “And no matter how nice your calves are.”
He lifted his head. “My calves?”
“I’m so distracted by them, you don’t even know,” she confessed.