Jackson: A Sexy Bastard Novel by Eve Jagger Read Free Book Online

chair. “Where is your brain today? You’re off in La-La land.”
    “Look at you, you have goose bumps all over you.” I stand up, intending to find her a towel, but then I see that Knox has already beaten me to it.
    “I got her,” he tells me, wrapping her up from behind. She smiles and leans into him, and I sit back down in my lounge chair, feeling a familiar bout of relief. He is so good for her.
    “So you have a profile and everything?” Cassie, ever the stickler for details, gets the conversation back on track. “What site are you on?”
    “I set one up on E-motion a while ago but I don’t really look that often.”
    “Okay, so what’s the plan then?” Cassie persists. “You have the profile, you have your mysterious list . . . what’s stopping you?”
    This girl , I think. This crazy, spontaneous, beautiful girl that I’m stupidly hoping will call me. Who happens to be a stripper.
    “Nothing’s stopping him,” Shelby answers for me. “In fact, he’s going to log on tonight and ask a girl out.”
    I look toward her, ready to protest, but when I see the determined set of her jaw, I know it’s futile.
    “Fine.”
    I look out at the once-again smooth, glassy surface of the pool. My life is in order: job stable, money coming in, house paid off, friends happy. Nothing should be stopping me from checking this next item off my life list. Plus, it will be a relief to finally have an even number on poker night, and fight night, and every other night our crew goes out together. They’re all probably just as sick of my third-wheel status as I am.
    “Fine. I’ll log on tonight.”

8
    Jackson
    “ T his first course is a blistered sunchoke, served with honey yogurt and rosemary salt.”
    The waiter turns our plates just so. Maggie looks down with interest, and I inspect the food again.
    It looks like a fucking tumor.
    Correction: it looks like a fucking burst tumor that is leaking puss all over my plate.
    I don’t usually order these fancy bullshit tasting menus for exactly this reason. Even though the waiter has identified what is on our plates, I don’t actually know what a sunchoke is. I’d assumed it was a vegetable, but now that it’s sitting here in front of me, I’m not so sure; it looks like it could be a gnarled little hunk of meat, or maybe some sort of giant nut.
    Maggie, however, wanted to do the tasting menu. And, so, here we are.
    “Mmm, this is delicious.” She’s way ahead of me, already having sliced off a bite and is now chewing contentedly.
    At least with her, I got exactly what I ordered: twenty-eight and classy, with deep brown hair that falls in waves to her shoulders and a refined beauty that doesn’t try too hard. She owns an art gallery in Castleberry Hill called Wisp Gallery, which I’ve heard of but never visited, and she claims to like a lot of the same movies as I do, which is probably how E-motion matched us up in the first place. She also professes to love good food and wine, which is how we ended up at 97 Park, one of nicer establishments in Buckhead.
    I know it’s pricey , she texted, after suggesting it, but I’ve wanted to try it ever since it opened, and I’ve never had anyone to try it with! My friends don’t have the time.
    “Are you going to try it?” Maggie is pointing her fork at my fully intact sunchoke, still sitting in its undisturbed pool of honey yogurt.
    “Yeah. Of course.”
    I slice off a little knob, dip it in the white sauce, and tentatively place it on my tongue. It’s . . . edible.
    “So, it is a vegetable.” I slice off another bite, and Maggie laughs. She has perfectly straight white teeth and a big broad mouth that reminds me a little bit of Julia Roberts.
    “So, you’re not a foodie, huh?” Her eyes glimmer as she raises her wineglass to her lips. “Why in the world did you let me drag you to this place, then?”
    I shrug and eat my last bite. “I don’t mind trying new things. I’ve heard of this place, and wanted to try it