Jackson was saved from answering by his cell. He frowned when he glanced at the screen, giving her a wary look.
Mollie raised her hands. “If it’s Madison, I had nothing to do with it.”
Instead of responding, Jackson answered the call, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Hey,” he grunted.
Whoever was on the other end talked for a moment.
Jackson took a sip of his beer, then lowered the bottle to the counter with an angry clank. “Fuck, dude. Don’t do this.”
Mollie tensed. That didn’t sound good.
Jackson’s eyes narrowed as he listened. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work. I swear to God— Okay. Fine, I’ll tell her. But don’t think for one second— Hello? Damn it!”
Jackson ended the call and braced both hands on the counter, his expression furious.
“Who was that?”
He glanced up, his expression unreadable. “Lincoln.”
“Oh. Oh. He’s not coming?” Mollie asked, torn between relief and disappointment.
“Something apparently came up.”
Relief. “No worries. We can reschedule for some other time.”
Jackson stood up, a finger creeping under the collar of his shirt in the way she’d learned was becoming a habit. “He…he suggested we don’t let the reservation go to waste.”
“We?”
“You and me.”
“Yeah, I got that, but why would Lincoln think that you and I should spend a Friday evening together?”
“Got me.”
Mollie took a sip of wine and studied his scowl. He obviously wasn’t jumping all over Lincoln’s suggestion that they use the reservation. The man looked ready to vomit at the thought.
Okay, then. No biggie. She could call Kim or one of the other girls, but when it came to weekend activities, her friends were definitely in the shots-of-tequila category, and Mollie wasn’t sure she had that kind of energy.
Mollie slid off the stool, taking another sip of wine. “Well, roomie, looks like you’re going to have some company for that game tonight. I don’t suppose I could talk you into mixing a Gilmore Girls rerun into the mix?”
He frowned. “You’re staying in?”
“Yup. Just as soon as I change.” She took one last sip of wine before pointing at him. “While I’m gone, how about you figure out how to impress me with those white-wine cooking skills?”
Jackson said nothing as she made her way back toward her bedroom, and Mollie couldn’t help but wonder if the old Jackson—the charming one—was really, truly gone. He’d always been a little gruff, a Texas cowboy through and through. But he’d also been able to laugh. Tease. Smile. Now, though, it seemed as if that Jackson was dead. Or, at the very least, on a long-ass vacation. The man left behind was an empty shell. Her chest ached for the man he was and the man he’d become.
Mollie had just shut the door to her bedroom and was about to undertake the contortionist performance known as trying to reach a back zipper all on your own when Jackson knocked at the door.
She opened it to find him standing there, her red Chanel clutch in his big hand. She smiled when she realized he was holding it the way a man would hold a football.
He held it out.
“Oh. Thanks.” She took the clutch.
They both stared it for an awkward moment before he lifted his eyes to hers. “You kept that?”
Mollie let out a little laugh. “Jackson, it’s Chanel. Of course I kept it.”
“Ah.” He gave her a considering look, as though searching for another reason she might have kept his gift.
“Okay, then,” she said, starting to close the door.
Jackson’s hand came up, his palm stopping the door before she could shut it. “Have dinner with me.”
“Well, yeah, I wasn’t going to eat in my bedroom. I’m just changing, then I’ll be back out.”
“No, I mean have dinner. With me. At a restaurant.”
Her breath caught at the intensity in his gaze. “Jackson—”
“Don’t say no.”
She blinked in surprise at his cocky command. “Why shouldn’t I?”
His grin was slow and sexy as he braced both hands on the door jamb and leaned in slightly. “Because I really like you in that red dress, Molls.” He backed up before she could respond and gave her a little wink. “We head out in five minutes. I’ll go call a car.”
Mollie stared after him as Jackson walked back down the hall, whistling a Tim McGraw song.
Well, whaddaya know, she thought. Maybe Jackson Burke hadn’t forgotten how to smile and tease after all.
Chapter 15
Somewhere around the arrival of the appetizers, Jackson quit trying to find reasons why asking Mollie out to dinner had been a mistake. It was time to accept that he enjoyed this woman. Had always enjoyed her.
The kiss might have been a mistake, but it didn’t change the fact that it was only with Mollie that Jackson felt he could relax.
“So anyway,” she said as she heaped a generous portion of steak tartare onto some fussy little piece of toast, “getting to have my own team would be huge, but…I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Isn’t that a promotion?”
“Of sorts,” she said, taking a bite. “But the thing is, I only have my master’s degree right now.”