Tackled by Lisa Suzanne
CHAPTER 11
In the morning, I toss my hair into a ponytail and pull on clothes appropriate for a morning hike—a racerback tank and mesh shorts—and I find Jack giving JJ a bottle as he sits on the couch. There’s no electronics around to distract him from this simple task, and it’s frankly adorable.
“Morning,” he says when he spots me. His eyes seem to brand me to my spot for a beat as they move from my face down my body.
I offer a small smile. “Good morning. How’s JJ?”
“Much better thanks to you. I gave him some Tylenol this morning after talking to Brooke. Did you sleep okay after I interrupted you?”
“Great,” I lie. The truth is that I kept thinking how I just wanted to crawl into bed beside him. I kept thinking about how sweet it was that he wanted to take care of his son.
“There’s yogurt and berries in the fridge and granola in the cabinet if you need something before we head out.” He nods toward the cabinet where I can find what I need, and his eyes return to his child.
“Thanks.” I move in that direction to grab myself some breakfast, and shortly after that we’re on our way toward La Jolla. It’s a half hour trip, and as he pulls into a lot, I find another gorgeous view of the water.
He straps on a baby carrier and I help set JJ into it so he’s riding on Jack’s back, and then we start an easy stroll on a paved path along the rocky oceanfront. We’re both wearing sunglasses, so I take a second to stare unabashedly at him since he can’t see my eyes.
God, he’s hot.
He’s quiet at first as we both breathe in the salty ocean air. It’s comfortable between us rather than an awkward silence, and I take in the scenery on both sides of me—the ocean to my right and Jack carrying JJ to my left, a perfect view all around.
“So what did you want to be when you were a kid?” Jack asks after we’ve been walking maybe fifteen minutes or so. “I’m sure it wasn’t an adult babysitter.”
I laugh, and I have the sudden urge to reach over and grab his hand in mine. I don’t. “Not babysitting. I didn’t even want to babysit kids when I was younger, which is funny since I ended up being a nanny for two years. I wanted to be a princess when I was really young, and then I wanted to be a ballerina until I discovered I have zero coordination when it comes to dancing. I went through a short phase where I wanted to be an actress, and then my high school psychology teacher was super hot and it seemed like kind of a cool subject so that’s what I majored in.”
He laughs. “You majored in psychology because your teacher was hot?”
I lift a shoulder as I ignore the heat creeping up my neck. “He looked a little like you, actually.” Oh, God, Kate. Really? Those are the words you decided to let fly out of your dumb mouth? “Uh, I mean...” Nope, no way to get out of that one.
“Is your dream job still psychology?” he asks, comfortably shifting back to the topic even though I’m an internal hot mess.
I shake my head. “It never was, actually. I worked in a school a couple years and found there wasn’t much actual psychological practice. I hated it. It ended up being whatever the administration determined I needed to do on a daily basis because they were too busy to do it...including subbing for teachers who were out sick. Including lunch duty. Including scheduling classes. I got out of it when a friend told me I could make bank as a nanny, and the first day at my new job, I discovered my real passion.”
His brows dip as he glances over at me. “Being a nanny?”
I shake my head. “Interior design. Mrs. Van Astor, the woman I worked for, owned her own firm, and getting an inside look at what she did and how she did it made me see how much more interesting that was than pushing paperwork. But my dream isn’t to work in design. It’s to own my own firm. To be my own boss.”
“Ambitious,” he says.
I nod. “I’m slowly working toward my degree, and everything was on a great track until the Van Astors decided to move across the country. But apparently Mr. Van Astor is Calvin’s lawyer, and he recommended me for this unconventional position, and now here I am walking along the ocean with Jack Dalton.” I shake my head, still not quite sure I believe how this all came together.
He’s quiet as he takes all that in.
“What about you?” I ask. “Was football always your dream?”
He shakes his head. “It was always my dad’s dream. I love the game, of course. Winning is my passion. But when I was a kid, I didn’t dream of playing it forever.”
“So what did a little Jack Dalton dream of, then?”
“I was always interested in real estate. I loved checking out construction sites or walking through model homes. I loved building things, from Tinkertoys when I was really small to Legos and Lincoln Logs when I got a little older.”
“Is that why you started Dalton Developments?”
He nods. “It was a way for me to enjoy another passion in the offseason, and eventually when I retire from the game, it’ll be there waiting for me.”
“How long do you think you’ll play?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Another decade if my body holds up.”
“It’s not what you dreamed of doing, but you still want to do it anyway?”
He presses his lips together as he looks far out over the ocean and his head tilts up toward the sky for a beat. “Gotta keep making my dad proud.”
My eyes fill with tears at that, and I’m reminded once again how I don’t really need to be here.
But after this walk, and after bonding a little, and after watching the seals as they lie lazily on rocks near the area that was supposed to be for children...I don’t ever want to leave.
That feeling like I want to stay here forever only intensifies as we spend the day doing touristy things in this gorgeous beach town. Jack is more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him as he pulls JJ out of the carrier to quietly point things out to him. I help get him back in, and we chat more about vacations and traveling—mostly surface topics that don’t allow me into his head, but still things that assist in helping me fall in deeper.
It’s frightening.
Once we’re done with our short hike, we walk up a steep sidewalk toward the shops and restaurants he’d mentioned earlier.
We walk through some art galleries and candy shops, through jewelry stores and souvenir shops. JJ is content in the carrier on Jack’s back as he looks around at everything, and I get the distinct urge to reach over and grab Jack’s hand more than once during our outing.
“Are you hungry for lunch?” he asks as we stop outside what looks to be a nice restaurant. He pulls off his sunglasses to glance at the menu posted out in front.
I glance down doubtfully at my outfit. “Is this okay to wear inside?”
He turns and his eyes travel down my body. The way he looks down my body is unnerving as he judges my clothes...except when his eyes lift to mine, the heat in them tells me he wasn’t checking out my shirt.
“It’s fine,” he says gruffly. His eyes dart away from me and back to the menu, and I move in a little closer to read the menu beside him. “They have chicken tacos if you’re too scared to try the shrimp.”
“I’m not scared,” I protest. “I just don’t like seafood.”
“Because you’re scared.” His words are so finite, so sure, that I decide to get a goddamn shrimp taco just to prove him wrong.
Even though I’m scared.
And all right, fine. It’s the best damn taco I’ve ever had in my entire life.
I don’t tell him that, though. I can’t let him see how much an effect he’s having on me.
