Can't Get Over You (Fortune's Island, Book 2) (12 page)

“I didn’t. I was just there. Every day. Eventually she realized I wasn’t going anywhere, and she started talking to me. That’s not to say I haven’t done anything stupid since then, but coming home to Gracie…” His eyes got misty and his voice grew thick, “was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

Zach missed walking into Jillian’s apartment and seeing her there, smiling at him, welcoming him into her arms, her bed. Now he went home to his own tiny, crowded, messy place and felt like something was missing, like there was a hole in his life. But she was already dating someone else, kissing someone else. Maybe even loving someone else. “I don’t know if Jillian even wants me back. She’s dating someone.”

“I can’t say if she does or she doesn’t,” Whit said. “That girl knows her own heart. And I know better than to try to guess what any woman’s thinking.” He chuckled, then clapped Zach on the shoulder. “But I do know my daughter loves you, and that’s something. Whether you two have a future or not…well, that ball’s in your court right now.”

Whit’s hand lingered a moment longer on Zach’s shoulder, then he headed out of the bar and back over to the host station. Zach nursed his soda and watched the door that Jillian had left through earlier, as if she might magically appear again. She didn’t. Which meant he needed to figure out what he wanted—and how he was going to get it.

If what he wanted was even there for him anymore.

ELEVEN

Maybe she should get a dog.

Or a turtle or a fish or something, anything with a heartbeat that was glad to see her when she got home. Jillian had a good time at the bonfire with Ethan—well,
goodish
. The northern end of the island wasn’t her world, and the conversations the others had about yachts and trips to Europe and the latest collection from Marc Jacobs left her feeling like she was living on another planet all together. Ethan had tried to draw her into the conversation, but it had been clear that this was his world, not hers, a place where he felt at ease. He’d dropped her off a little after eleven with another of those short, sweet kisses. He told her he had to fly out in the morning for a quick trip to New York, but then he’d be back. For a second, she thought there’d be more…more kisses, more connection, but he had left with just the one.

Jillian should have been pleased. But somehow, she was left feeling…disjointed. She curled into her sofa, grabbed her cell and texted Darcy a quick,
home now, had an okay time.

Darcy texted back a few minutes later.
Just okay?

I don’t fit in there very well. Feeling like the lone zebra at a horse ranch.

LOL. It’s them who don’t fit in,
Darcy said.
We’re the cool kids, over here at TLS.

That made Jillian laugh, too. If anyone would understand, it was Darcy, who was marrying Kincaid in a few days. He’d grown up in that Mercedes/Marc Jacobs world, yet he much preferred the rough and tumble environment of The Love Shack. For years, Darcy had thought she would never fit into Kincaid’s life, when it turned out all he ever wanted was to be a part of hers. It had worked for them—did that mean maybe it would for her and Ethan?

And did she want that? Right now, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. Her traitorous mind kept straying to Zach, even as she was texting about Ethan. She sent back a smiley face to Darcy, then,
How was work?

Is the hidden question, was Zach all mopey and miserable without you tonight?

Jillian hesitated a long time. Darcy knew her well.
Maybe…okay, yes.

He was. Looked like a kid who lost a puppy. He didn’t stay after with the guys, just went home. Alone.

That made Jillian happy, in a weird way. Maybe she wanted Zach to suffer. Maybe she wanted him to go through those same feelings of loss she’d had months ago.
Me too,
Jillian said.
Just a quick kiss from Ethan, and now I’m watching a sappy movie on A&E
.

Come on over to my house for some wine and girl time. I’ll be home in an hour.

Thanks, but I’m already in my pajamas. Next time.
The last thing Jillian wanted to do was go to Darcy’s and see the happy little family of three they’d formed—Kincaid, Emma, and Darcy. She loved them all, but right now, that was too masochistic.

Jillian thought she’d wanted to be alone, until she actually got home and realized the place almost echoed. She definitely needed a dog. Except a dog required someone who was home, to feed it, walk it. Between school and work…

Maybe she should get a potted plant. But with her luck, that would die, too.

She pulled open the fridge, grabbed a beer, popped the top, then headed out to the balcony. She sat back in an overstuffed wicker chair, put her feet up on the railing, then leaned her head back and let her eyes close.

Ethan had texted a couple times after he left, saying he was looking forward to getting back to Fortune’s Island in a couple days. She replied that she felt the same. Maybe once Ethan was back, they could have a chance to see where this would all go.

Especially if that meant kissing Ethan again. Because thus far, none of Ethan’s kisses had made her forget Zach. And then there was Zach’s kiss…

He knew her too well, knew exactly how to touch her to make her want…more. To want him. His kiss had lingered on her lips, in her mind, tingled along her nerve endings, for hours afterwards. She found herself craving another kiss like that, craving one more moment with Zach.

It was just post-breakup regret. Nothing more. Either way, she wasn’t thinking about Zach, or kissing Zach, anymore.

She paced a little, but even the sound of her footsteps seemed to echo. She couldn’t stay in this empty space, not for another second. But then her gaze traveled to the window, to the vast darkness outside.

It was late, close to two in the morning, and a sane person would go to bed. But the emptiness of her apartment seemed to mock her, so Jillian slipped into a pair of flip-flops and headed outside. She was just going to sit on the stoop for a minute, soak up some fresh air.

Fortune’s Island was dead at this time of night. One or two lights glowed in the houses and condos on the island, and a ribbon of streetlights cast yellow puddles across the road, but all the other businesses were closed.

Jillian closed the door to her apartment, walked down to the ground level, then stood on the top step of the front stoop. A slight breeze danced across her skin, like a friend beckoning her over.
Take a walk,
it seemed to say,
soak up the night
.

Darcy often walked home at night from The Love Shack, but Jillian always drove, even though she lived less than a half a mile from the restaurant. For too long, she’d been afraid of walking in the dark, afraid of being alone after midnight. Standing outside now, while the dark draped across her shoulders like a heavy blanket, that old familiar fear shivered down her spine.

Even though she knew, rationally, that no one was behind her, that no one, in fact, was outside beside her, she still felt those prickles of awareness. Her foot turned, her body followed, ready to go back inside. To where it was light and bright…

And empty.

Jillian reached for the door handle, then stopped. No.

She was tired of being afraid. Tired of letting one event rule her life. Her brother was right—she was allowing the fear to be in charge of so many things in her life. She couldn’t change all of them right this minute, but she could change one. It had been eight years since that night on the beach. Eight years was long enough. Time to do something about it.

Jillian stood in the warm glow of the stoop light for a long moment, then took a deep breath and stepped into the dark.

The ocean was only a couple streets away, and she could hear its soft song as she walked. A bell clanged, maybe on an old boat, a melancholy sound that seemed to echo in the quiet. No cars traveled on the road, no businesses had their doors open or lights on. It was just Jillian and the dark.

Her heart raced, and her breathing tightened. She kept her apartment keys clutched in her fist, telling herself she was just going to go around the block, just a quarter mile, nothing more. She had her phone if she needed light, but really, there were enough streetlights peppered along the route that she was never in the dark for very long.

She rounded the first corner, hitting a wall of black ink for one long scary second, before she passed the burned out streetlight and made it to the next one. Still, her pace increased, and her heart kept racing. There was no one behind her. No one. It was okay, it was all okay.

Deep breath. Another. Her grip tightened on the keys until the hard metal made a deep indent in her palm. She was done being afraid. Done.

It was time to take charge of the other aspects of her life, starting with this one. Jillian rounded the second corner, and did a little internal cheer. She was doing this, something so simple that other people did every day.

She was fine, just fine. One step, another, a third, and the distance grew. Her heart hammered, her pulse raced, but she kept going. Corner number three approached, and she slowed her pace. The air was warm, sliding along the bare skin of her arms and legs, scented with a salty ocean tang. It was a nice night, a really nice night.

She rounded the last corner, ready to do a little victory dance, when she saw a shadow under the awning of her building. Her heart stuttered, her breath caught, and she stopped walking. There was someone there, someone standing outside her building, and her mind went straight to all the worst case scenarios.

Why had she gone out at night alone? Why had she thought this street was safe? What should she do now? Run? Turn around? Call 911?

The figure stepped forward, and Jillian froze. She couldn’t move her feet, couldn’t open her mouth, couldn’t seem to work her phone, couldn’t—

“Jillian, I was just ringing your doorbell.”

Zach’s familiar voice filled the dark space between her and the door. A whoosh of relief flooded her and she stepped forward, until she was under the light. His face, familiar, warm, met hers, and a sense of calm settled over her. He was here, as if he’d known she would need him.

For a second, she wanted to step into his arms, to feel the comfort of his touch surrounding her. Catch the scent of his cologne, and lean into the strength of his chest. To rely on him like she had so many times before. To just slip right back into where they had been.

“Zach. You scared me.” She pressed a hand to her heart, but it was still running wild in her chest. She shifted a little closer to him, but not close enough to touch. Still, her body yearned for it, seeking Zach’s oh-so-familiar touch. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk about…earlier.”

That kiss. The kiss that never should have happened.

A kiss that still lingered in her mind, still sang along her nerves. But if she told him that—if she admitted for a second that she still wanted Zach—he would think there was a chance they were getting back together. Today was the first step in conquering her fears, in moving forward, and the last thing Jillian wanted to do was make a U-turn with Zach, and end up right where she started. “There’s nothing to talk about. We made a mistake and—”

He moved closer, and her heart raced with anticipation. Clearly not listening to the rational side of her brain. “What if I don’t think it’s a mistake? What if I think it was a sign?”

“A sign?” She scoffed. She forced herself to move back, to insert some brain-clearing distance. “Of what?”

“That whatever this is between us isn’t dead, not yet. And that it deserves another chance.”

She cut her gaze away. It was as if he’d honed in on the very thoughts she’d just had. The part of her that still wanted him, that still…

Loved him?

No. Impossible. And standing out here, fantasizing about kissing him again, wasn’t going to get her anywhere but stuck in the same rut she’d already escaped. She brushed past him and slid her key into the door. “I’m not having this discussion again.”

Zach laid a hand on her shoulder, and gently pressed until she turned around. His dark eyes met hers, then his fingers tiptoed across her collarbone, and up to her jaw. He knew, oh, he knew, exactly how to touch her to make her putty in his hands. She knew she should resist him, should slip inside and shut the door, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could only wait.

Zach. The one man who knew everything about her, the one man who could still make her melt with nothing more than a smile. The one man she wasn’t supposed to love anymore.

“Are you saying,” his voice was low and dark, “that you feel
nothing
when I touch you?”

She swallowed. In the night air, in the intimate, cozy space on the front stoop of her building, everything about being near Zach seemed to amplify ten times more. She felt so many somethings when he touched her; it was as if her entire body was on a low simmer. Zach could have been a magnet, drawing her hips, her hands toward him, seeking, wanting, knowing how good it would be.

“We were together a long time,” she said. Like that explained anything.

“We were.” His finger skated across her lips. Her nipples puckered, her gut tightened, and desire pooled deep inside her. “And we had some really good times while we were together.”

“We…we did.” She wanted to open her lips against his finger, to taste him, to watch him take that moistened finger and trail it down the front of her shirt, parting the panels until he reached the crest of her breast…

Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad.

“And some incredible sex,” Zach said, his voice dark, deep, hot.

Sex.
Three letters, and her hormones reacted like she’d been set on fire. A reel of being in bed with Zach, being touched by Zach, sliding her body against his, began to play in her mind. She could almost feel him entering her, that moment when they first joined that had always made her gasp and arch against him. See the smile on his face at that second, the way his eyes met hers, and the two of them knew…just knew that what was to come would be wonderful and heated and incredible.