Found in Us (Lost 2)

"Oh, it's easy. She's missing one of her tiny legs so she humps a bit when she moves. She's also a bit apart from the group. There she is."

For the next half hour, I watch her engaging in a back-and-forth game with the squirrel. Jessica waits for the squirrel to come closer, with her hand stretched. Not that the tiny animal makes her job easy. Whenever Jessica takes a step forward, it retreats. But Jessica waits patiently, starting the whole game again.

Taking Jessica to the golf club was one of the smartest things I did in a long time. Usually I go there for business, but today it was pure fun.

"What d'you reckon happened to her leg?" I ask.

Jessica shrugs. "I'm guessing someone hurt her, judging by how afraid she is of people. She just needs a bit of reassuring, and then she’ll be fine."

Watching her so determined to fix the little squirrel, I can't help wondering if that determination also extends to people. Me, for instance. I never thought I needed fixing. Or rather, I thought I was unfixable. But I'll be damned if I'm not starting to change my mind. She's changing my mind. I watch her smile widen, illuminating her features as she takes another step toward the squirrel, and this time the animal doesn't back off. Jessica’s eyes lighten up, and suddenly energy pours off her again, forming something like a bright halo around her. Beneath the self-confident woman I met all those months ago lies much more than I imagined: a fascinating mix of innocence, fragility, and strength.

I want to protect her, and make sure nothing—or no one—hurts her again. I want her to give herself to me every night the way she did last night, and I want to watch her wake up every day.

Simple things like randomly walking through a park have never made much sense to me, unless there was a purpose behind it. With her, they do make sense. I don't care if I have to do birdwatching or watch her feed squirrels if it means I can spend time with her.

"Mission accomplished," she says, straightening up. "She's fed now. Let's get some food for ourselves."

"You can still eat after that food festival last night?"

"You worked me out pretty intensely afterward," she says seductively, putting her fingers suggestively on my chest.

My cock instantly throbs in my pants as I pull her toward me, putting my hands on her perfectly shaped arse. Just thinking of touching her naked makes me groan.

"I like seeing you dressed informally," she says. "Reminds me of how you were in California. You didn't go suited up to work most of the time."

"What's that supposed to mean? And I'm absolutely not at fault for the fact that Americans have such a lousy dress code."

"Well, you look less like you have a stick shoved up your butt when you're like this. And you were so much looser back then."

"I suppose I was more relaxed. James is the face of the companies we own in the US, and no one there gave a damn about all the drama going on here."

"What drama?" she asks.

"I don't want to ruin this day talking about it. So you liked me more in California, huh?"

"Hmm . . . you were up for more fun. But at least now you're up for a good shag." She giggles. "And you're still hot. Thank God for that."

"This is th

e second time you've hinted you like me just for my looks. I might start feeling offended."

"Oh no, I can add a few other things. I like the paintings in your house, your friends, and your taste in presents. You didn't seriously think I liked you for your shining personality, did you?" She grins.

We each grab a pastry from a nearby vendor and walk deeper inside the park. The alleys we choose are almost deserted, and I like it this way. After she's done with her food, Jessica rumbles in her bag, retrieving a pack of cigarettes.

"You're going to smoke?" I ask.

She looks at me in surprise, the cigarette already between her full lips. She smiles. "And why shouldn't I?"

"It's not healthy."

She rolls the cigarette between her lips, leaning with her back against a tree.

"You sound like Serena."

"I mean it."

"Okay. I know you can probably recite ten statistics that smoking reduces lifetime expectancy by I don't know how much, but none have been very convincing. I'll be old, and cranky and useless. What's the point of living a few years more or less? They won't be worth much anyway."