“I keep forgetting to ask someone what that means. Are you ever going to tell me?”
“Maybe someday. The literal translation kind of ruins the beauty of the words. Why, don’t you like it?”
She shrugged her shoulder. “It sounds pretty, and I like that it’s something you only use with me.” Black lashes narrowed over green eyes. “Right?”
“Only you, I promise.”
“Then I guess I can wait. Or maybe I’ll remember to ask a native,” she finished with a sly grin. “Now, what is it you wanted to tell me?”
Jax took a deep breath and let it out, trying to release his tension without success. “Remember our encounter at the airport?”
“How could I forget?” she said wryly.
“I went there expecting… Well, I’m not really sure. But I sure as hell wasn’t expecting a fiery Scot who refused to be charmed and made it a point to call me out on my bullshit.”
“You underestimated me. That was your first mistake,” she said very matter-of-factly with a single haughty brow raised. He’d found her arrogance sexy back then, and he found it the same now.
“You’re right. But I made a much bigger mistake after that. It’s just that I’d never met anyone like you. You intrigued the hell out of me, and when you tried taking your bag back and you fell into me, I lost it. It was like a switch that I didn’t even know I had got flipped, and I wanted—no, needed—to spend time with you.”
He closed his eyes briefly, ordering himself to continue when all he wanted to do was forget the whole thing as he buried himself deep inside her again and again. But starting something based on a lie was destined to crumble, whether it was a month from now or in ten years.
“You dismissed me, V. Said good-bye and that you’d see me at the wedding, so I—”
A short, tinny melody played from the direction of his backpack. He recognized it as the text message alert on her phone. She reached over to grab it from the side pocket, but he held her arm. “Don’t worry about it. You can check it later.”
“Jax, what if it’s Robért with a wedding emergency? Lucie and Reid will be here tomorrow and if everything isn’t taken care of, she’s liable to have a panic attack. It’ll just take a second.”
She planted a firm kiss on his mouth and then rolled over to retrieve the phone. He blew out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair. He felt like he’d been trying to tell her the truth for two hours instead of two minutes. Confessions fucking sucked.
Vanessa gasped and cried, “Oh my God.”
Her tone was one of terror, her fingers covering her mouth as she stared at the screen of her phone with tear-filled eyes. There wasn’t a wedding problem in the world that garnered that severe of a reaction.
“What is it?”
“My sister. She’s in the hospital.” V looked at him like he’d never seen her. Lost. “She was s-severely beaten.”
Five minutes to pack up camp and another thirty minutes to hike back down the mountain to where she finally got full cell service again. Up at the falls she didn’t have enough for a call to go through, but thankfully she heard her sister’s text coming in.
Instead of wasting more time heading back to the Mau Loa, Jackson suggested they hang out at his place so she could talk to her sister and find out what the situation was.
When they’d parked earlier, he’d done so next to a small white cottage with bay windows. It was old with wooden siding and weathered shutters, but it had a certain quaint charm about it. She hadn’t asked whose it was, and he hadn’t offered. But now she had a pretty good idea, since he was unlocking the front door and letting them in. He flipped the lights on and closed the door after her.
Sky blue paint disguised what appeared to be wood paneling and a worn Berber carpet the same color as the sand on the beaches covered the floors. The kitchen to the left was small but functional-looking for a bachelor. The living room had a set of tan couches and a matching easy chair facing the TV. Down a short hallway looked to be a couple of rooms, most likely the bedroom and bathroom. He didn’t have much as far as decor. No window treatments, no paintings on the walls. Though he did have a small shelving unit with pictures of his family and trophies.
Vanessa wasn’t sure what she’d expected Jackson’s home to look like, but she hadn’t pictured this. She had no idea what a UFC fighter made, but apparently they fought for love of the sport and not the money. Not that it mattered one way or the other. He could live out of his Jeep for all she cared. But if this was how he had to live as a champion, what would happen when he couldn’t fight at all anymore?
Rule #3: Never date a man without a stable future.
Shut the hell up, Rules!
“Uh, I know it’s not much, but I don’t really require a whole lot.” He started picking up a few stray pieces of clothing and threw them into what she assumed was his bedroom. “I wouldn’t have given the maid the day off if I knew you were coming.”