Page 10 of The Intimacy of Control

“You’re the best. I’ll put in an order and head out.”

“At least no one can ever say you aren’t determined.”

I laughed at that. I’d always been ambitious. I’d always chased my dreams, no matter how difficult the path seemed to be.

If Jack was still in my dreams, then maybe I needed to chase him.

Driftwood Jack’s wasn’t very busy, which I expected since it was still daytime. I assumed they’d get a lot busier throughout the night. I still wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but I was already committed to it.

If rejection was in my future, then so be it. I could handle rejection—I couldn’t handle the idea of him swimming around in my brain for this long and me not even trying to do something about it. There must’ve been a reason for it. For the way we’d connected so easily, taking to each other easily like we’d known each other for years despite never having met each other.

I was used to hookups needing more communication and bumping heads. I’d never met someone who bared themselves that easily and that freely, taking each step by storm as if we’d done it a hundred times over.

So, I walked right through the doors and scanned the room, spotting Jack at the bar like I’d been hoping. He was wrist-deep cleaning out a glass, talking to the other guy who worked there. I started off on a march, far too eager to talk to Jack before I realized I probably looked weird doing that.

My mission wasn’t to scare him off. It was actually to do the opposite. Stay cool, Forrest. Stay cool.

I cleared my throat as I approached the bar, slowly sitting on one of the stools. I waited for Jack to turn his head before smiling at him. “You look familiar.”

“Mr. Castillo. What a surprise seeing you here again.”

I shrugged and tucked some hair behind my ear, hoping I still looked cool and nonchalant. “I said I’d come back for my shirt, didn’t I? I’ve been busy with work.”

Jack tilted his head a little. “I didn’t think you’d be busy for this long. I’m afraid I don’t have it with me.”

“What a shame. Maybe you could bring it to dinner with you.”

One of his eyebrows rose, his eyes widening. The light caught them perfectly, the green in them damn near twinkling. Ugh, I could stare at them for a very long time. “Dinner?”

I put my elbows on the bar, resting my chin in my palms. “Yeah, dinner. Me and you. Your choice of restaurant, I’ll pay, drop you off at your house, where I’ll give you a quick goodnight kiss, and then I’ll drive away like a gentleman. Don’t worry, I’ll text you the next day.”

“I never agreed to dinner.”

“Oh, did you not?”

He rolled his eyes and ran a hand over his chin. “You never asked. You seem to have just assumed.”

“Where are my manners?” I let one of my arms fall to the bar, resting my cheek on my other palm, looking up at him. “Will you go to dinner with me? Limited package this time, though.”

“Limited package? What does that entail?”

“No hanky panky.”

He blinked at me a couple of times before laughing. Why did that phrase make people laugh? “I’m not sure what kind of impression I gave you when we last saw each other, but I’m going to have to take a rain check on that.”

Well, he said, “rain check” and not “no forever.” Maybe I still had a chance later? I sure hoped I did. “Fair enough, buttercup.”

“Buttercup? You are just full of surprises.”

“Not really. I’m a pretty boring guy.”

“I wouldn’t peg you for a boring guy.”

I trailed my gaze down the slope of his nose, taking in every tiny detail on his face. I knew what his cheeks looked like with a light blush on them. I knew what his mouth looked like when his lips were parted, my name a moan on his tongue. I knew exactly what lines deepened on his skin when his brows came together, and his eyes squeezed shut, and he came all over my bed while he screamed my name. Fucking screamed. The only thing different was the slight beard he had now.

I’d just have to try again another day, which wasn’t a hardship for me in the slightest. I wanted to know Jack Manning beneath the surface he’d given me.

Jesus, I’d had crushes before, but never like this. That had to mean something. It had to, or else I’d need to be seriously concerned.