So. Deep breath. It wasn’t just confidence in herself. It was confidence in Sarge. That’s what had spooked her back in the clothing store. That’s what allowed the doubt bubble to inflate and pop in the form of verbal sabotage. This experience with Sarge had started as physical but in a short space of time had turned…serious. There had been no formal discussion—hell, she’d just reminded him they were only “friends”—but lip service didn’t stop the pull between them from strengthening.
If he left tomorrow, there would be a gap. A big, funny, sweet, dirty gap where Sarge had made his presence known. She would turn thirty the day after Christmas and he would be back in Los Angeles, surrounded by better, more successful…younger options. So this was where Jasmine had to make a decision. And really, there was only one decision to make, because Sarge would leave. Little by little, she needed to insert tiny air pockets between them until he stopped being so reachable. So Sarge.
As if he knew her exact thoughts, Sarge sighed and put an arm around her shoulders, leading her into the toy store. Pop stars shrieked from the speakers, putting their own spin on classic Christmas songs. Unlike the rest of the mall, this store was packed full of parents making purchases for the big day. They were putting the Santa hat–clad employees through their paces, sending them into the back room looking for toys that couldn’t be found on the floor.
Sarge tugged Jasmine into the warmth of his body to avoid robots demonstrating their skills in front of a colorful display. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him of the cell phone cameras documenting their every move from just outside the store, but Sarge released her before she got the chance.
“All right.” He circled the robot display. “Marcy was disappointed I wasn’t small enough to hold in a blanket. Think maybe she’d like baby dolls?”
“Dolls…plural? How many were you planning on buying her?”
Sarge propped both hands on his hips to survey the store and nodded once. “All of them.”
It took Jasmine a moment to speak around the insistent tug in her chest. “Let’s look a little more. Marcy has quite a few dolls.” Jasmine could feel Sarge following close behind her as they wound through a busy aisle. She missed his arm around her shoulders so much, she felt chilled. “Um. Marcy loves dinosaurs.” Jasmine picked up a Jurassic World figurine set, complete with buildings to destroy. “This could be fun. It even has the T. rex—that’s her favorite.”
Sarge rubbed his chin. “You sure it won’t scare her?”
Jasmine thought of the spunky three-year-old hurling herself off River’s couch onto a pillow fort. “She doesn’t scare easily.”
“Okay.” Sarge stepped back, eyeing the shelves. “Let’s get them all.”
Her laughter turned heads, so she ducked behind his big frame. “You can’t just show up with hundreds of boxes,” she whispered. “Your sister will kill you. And me by association.”
His throat muscles slid up and down. “I wasn’t in Hook for Marcy’s first three Christmases. I have to make up for it somehow, right?”
At once, she couldn’t breathe. Sarge was doing his best to hide the guilt, but it was there in the set of his jaw, the heaviness behind his eyes. It took every molecule of her willpower not to throw herself into his arms and cling. Cling for dear life. Because who could ever top this man? He was everything at once. Good, strong, thoughtful…bad when he needed to be. More, he was harboring pain. Keeping it close so it wouldn’t touch anyone else.
“Sarge. You’ll make up for it without the toys. Just being here now is enough…” Even as she reassured him, an idea occurred. “Actually, hold on.”
Jasmine dodged two children having a sword fight and ducked into an unoccupied aisle, two away from where they’d discovered the dinosaurs. Sarge joined her there a moment later, curiosity painting his expression. “What is it?”
Surprised he hadn’t seen the child-sized guitars yet, Jasmine realized it was due to his total focus on her. His gaze moved over her face, lighting on her cheeks, hair, lips. Tapping into her reserve of strength, Jasmine tore her attention from Sarge, went up on her toes, and unhooked the guitar from its hanging place. “I was thinking you could teach Marcy to play.” Brow furrowed, he took the offered guitar, but didn’t say anything. Jasmine immediately wanted to recall the suggestion. With it, she’d called attention to the four-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. That Sarge would most likely be accepting the new contract. And leaving. “Even when you’re on the road, there are webcams. Skype. People learn to play instruments through the internet all the time now. I just thought—”
“It’s perfect, Jas.” He reached out and cupped a hand over her mouth. “It’s perfect, and no more talking about me leaving. Deal? Nothing else is worth thinking about when I’ve got you standing in front of me.”