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“Should I open it?” she asks, her voice a haggard whisper. Her hands, I notice, are starting to tremble, the envelope vibrating between her fingers.
“Or I can,” I offer and she nods, thrusting it at me with a force usually reserved for a dodgeball game. Recovering myself, I undo the clasp at the top, then turn the envelope upside down. Two photographs slide out. The first photo is covered by a yellow post-it that reads: missing something? Beneath the post-it is a picture of the sweatshirt I left behind on the fence. Nora gasps, but I’m only halfway through this reveal. I hurry to look at the second photo– also covered by a yellow post–it, one that reads: I know what you did…
I snatch the post-it off the photo and stare in shock at the up close image of myself driving Ian’s car.
I blow out a long, very relieved breath even as Nora lets out a loud squeak of dismay.
Chapter 20
Nora
“WHY ARE YOU NOT freaking out?” I exclaim as Jack calmly slides the photos back into the envelope then starts the car, putting it in reverse before I’ve even fully processed what’s happening. “Wait, where are we going? Not to my office still? We need to do something!”
“Nora,” Jack has the audacity to sound amused by my panic, “calm down.”
“Calm down?” I echo. “Calm down? Who are you– Taylor Swift? I will not calm down! On the contrary, I’d like to invite you to join me in freaking out!”
“Not going to do that,” he replies, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across to my seat as he looks over his shoulder to ensure the street is clear before backing into it. I’m temporarily distracted by the way this puts both the sinewy muscles of his neck and the sharp angle of his jawline on full display. I used to run my fingers across that jawline, which has to be why they are currently buzzing with electricity, eager to test out the theory of muscle memory.
Wait. I’m supposed to be freaking out.
Someone put a picture of Jack driving Ian’s car on his dashboard! And they have his sweatshirt!
Whew, freak out reactivated.
“Shouldn’t you dust that envelope for prints?” I demand. “Or-or…” I realize belatedly that I don’t have a second suggestion and just trail off stupidly.
“Nora,” Jack repeats my name, “that right there is what we call a weak attempt at scaring me. So they have my sweatshirt and a picture of me driving Ian’s car. The important thing is that neither of those were pictures of you.”
The rebuttal I’d been planning dies on my lips.
“Oh.” I flop back against my seat. “Oh.” I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat. “So you’re not freaking out because this threat is against you and not me?” I say in a tiny voice.
Jack glances my way, pinning me in place with his steel gray gaze. His answering nod is almost imperceptible, the tiniest of gestures, but it unravels something deep inside of me.
Longing for him sweeps over me, violent in its intensity.
“Pull over,” I hear myself demand.
“What? Why?” Jack asks, but another glance my way must tell him I’m not messing around because a second later he jerks the wheel to the right, bringing the car to a stop on the side of the road. “Nora, what’s wrong?” he asks, turning to me. “Because I gotta tell you, if this is the best these people have on us then–”
I don’t let him finish. Instead I launch myself across the car and capture his words with a kiss.
His whole body freezes as our lips meet, but then, then he takes over, leading this kiss like that was his intention all along. I don’t fight it. Jack can do what he wants with this kiss–I am a willing participant in this guided tour. His hands slide into my hair and when a soft sound escapes me he groans in response then lifts me over the seat and into his lap.
Some distant part of my brain is yelling, Mayday, mayday! Frantically attempting to alert me to the danger of crossing the line I just chose to cross. Correction, I didn’t cross the line–I leapt right over it. But since I landed safely in Jack’s arms, I can’t bring myself to pay attention to that voice. Not when all of my attention is consumed by Jack.
The initial urgency of the kiss slows as Jack’s hands shift from my hair down to my back, settling there as if to hold me in place. It’s laughable really, because I have zero plans to go anywhere that isn’t here in his arms.
All too soon, though, Jack pulls away. I bite back a moan of protest as the adrenaline from the kiss fades and reality crashes around me; the lines I just professed not to care about slash across my heart, forcing it back into submission. That’s right, heart, no falling back in love for you.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I don’t know why I did that.” My cringeworthy apology is made all the more awkward by the fact that I’m still in his lap. I’m going to have to climb out of it to get back in my seat. The shortest walk of shame ever–and yet, somehow the longest.
No point delaying things. The longer I sit on this man, the stupider I feel. I kissed Jack! And a judge didn’t even tell me to!
I put one hand on the seat behind him, intending to push myself off of him with the least amount of touching possible, but to my surprise his grip on me tightens.
“Nora, please look at me.” His husky voice sends a shiver down my spine and despite my shame I do as he requested and look at him. His gray eyes contain a fierceness I can’t make sense of. Is he angry at me? He’d have every right to be given the lack of preamble to that kiss on my part. Perhaps we should have made rules before entering into this marriage of convenience. Why didn’t we make rules? Jack loves rules! In fact, I’m starting to feel a little angry myself. This whole situation could’ve been avoided if he’d stayed true to his character and had us establish some rules.
