"There’s something I want to get out of it too.”
That, too, was very interesting. “Really? Like what?”
She took a deep breath and focused on his chin rather than his eyes. “It was what you said earlier about me being the most conservative woman in town.”
Right. The thing that had pissed her off in the coffee shop. “I’m sorry if that hurt your feelings.”
In his mind it was a good thing, but she had clearly been upset.
“It isn’t your fault,” she said. “It’s true.”
Her voice was softer now and he moved closer to be sure he heard. “And that’s a bad thing?”
It was a fantastic thing, from where he was standing. Annabelle was not only a good girl, a nice girl, a smart girl—he’d dated very few of any of those girls and he’d never dated one that was a combination of all three—she was also bright and independent. The town would have to believe he’d won her over to get her to go out with him. A woman like Annabelle didn’t get swept up in things like him being a hell of a good time or up for anything in the bedroom. A woman like Annabelle didn’t get swept up at all. She made good, rational decisions based on information and proof—not adrenaline and lust.
Frankly, adrenaline and lust were two of his favorite things.
Exactly why he needed less of both in his life.
“I think I need to be less…like that.” She focused on something over his shoulder and Jackson turned to find what it was.
Or who it was.
He couldn’t tell. The room was full, the dance floor covered.
He looked at her again. “What’s going through that pretty head?”
She met his eyes. “You’re not the only guy here who thinks that. I want to show the men in Quinn that I’m not uptight and unapproachable.”
Ah, this was making a little more sense now.
“Done.” He wanted to date her. For his reputation. And a bunch of other things that were as surprising as they were sudden. But if there was a reason she wanted to date him too—and it involved her not being uptight—damn right he was all in.
Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.
God, he wanted to kiss her. Badly. That wasn’t an uncommon urge when standing close to a beautiful woman, of course. He had a very healthy libido—maybe too healthy sometimes. He found all kinds of women attractive and often felt desire and lust. But with Annabelle it felt different. He couldn’t just push her up against the wall and go for it. He needed a little finesse, would have to work up to it, would have to—
She gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him in, going up on tiptoe and pressing her mouth to his.
Or he could just push her up against the wall and go for it.
Jackson had always been known for being able to think on his feet.
That was what this was.