Looking for Trouble (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 1)

“What do you want to talk about? The lawsuit?”

“God no.” She took off the apron and turned to leave the kitchen, but he snatched the apron off the counter.

“Hey, no need to leave that behind. You might need it later.”

“Oh, my God!” She laughed. “You’re naughty.”

“Oh, I’m the naughty one?” he teased, loving the way she laughed until she collapsed into the couch.

“Shut up. You’re not supposed to bring any of that up!”

“So, just do it and never mention it after?”

“Exactly. I’m shy.”

That ridiculous lie was like a stroke of fingers down his belly. She wasn’t shy, she was a coy little vixen, and he had a sudden urge to make her admit it in the most breathless way possible. “That lie is even naughtier than what we did yesterday.”

“Not even close to true. And I am shy. A little.”

He shook his head and shot her a look that let her know he wasn’t fooled. “So no talk of last night? Or the lawsuit?”

“Nope. Tell me more about Alaska. Or tell me where else you’ve been.”

“Where else? Canada, California, Texas, Colorado, South Dakota, the Netherlands—”

“The Netherlands!” she yelped. “That’s crazy! I don’t know anything about it. Tell me everything.”

It was his turn to laugh. “I don’t know all that much. Some of the food was good. Some was really...fishy.”

“Were you on the sea?”

“No, strangely, their production is mostly on land. I only work on groundwater. Ocean hydrology is a whole different thing.”

“Did you see a lot of windmills?”

“Yep. It’s a beautiful country. Flat but really green. The people are fairly reserved, but friendly as hell when you get to know them.”

“Did they speak English?”

“Most of them.”

“Wow,” she breathed.

He suddenly remembered the pictures on his phone. “Here. This was my favorite place. The biggest town where I was working was a university town. Every single building is older than anything you could see here.” He called up the picture of the ancient row homes on the main canal and handed the phone over.

“Oh.” Eyes wide, lips parted in wonder, she stared at the picture. “Oh, Alex, I can’t believe you were there. Can I...?” She gestured at the screen, and he nodded, giving her permission to scroll through.

She slid through the photos slowly, pausing over each one to study it. Her eyes sparkled. Alex glanced at each picture, but his eyes always rose to her face again. Jesus, she was cute, with her little nose and black glasses and wide-eyed fake innocence.

“Oh,” she said suddenly, and pushed the phone back at his hand. “Sorry.”

She’d gotten past his pictures of the Netherlands and stumbled over a picture of a woman perched on his bike, her tank top dipping low over tan cleavage and her sunglasses hiding her almond-shaped eyes.

“I probably should’ve asked before now,” Sophie said. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No. She’s my ex.”

“Ex-wife?”