Always, Ella

by Sofia Sawyer

  “Sounds like this is Brittany’s problem. Not yours,” he finally said, tenderness in his voice.

  Elena took a deep breath, her breasts grazing Jackson’s chest in the tight quarters of the space. She looked up, finding his blue eyes staring back at her. Inspecting her. An expression on his face she couldn’t quite read.

  “I’m thinking of letting her have the promotion.” Elena looked away and shrugged a shoulder. “I’m just tired of constantly going head-to-head with her, you know? Sure, the book deal is exciting, but it’s not stable enough for me to feel comfortable losing my income. For all I know, it could flop. I need to keep my job another year or so to see how it goes.”

  “Hey,” Jackson said, his voice low. He reached up a hand and cupped her face, lifting it slightly so she would look at him again. A look of determination filled his features. “She only wishes she had a fraction of your talent; otherwise, she wouldn’t stoop so low⁠—push you around.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “But you need to do what you need to do. If you think she’d really jeopardize your career, then I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

  Appreciation flooded through her. “This is a tough decision.”

  Jackson’s free arm wrapped around her waist, and he gently pulled her closer. ”We’ll figure it out, Elena. Let’s just enjoy today together. Just...stay with me in this moment.” His voice was a whisper now, his eyes dragging from hers to her lips.

  He was so close. Elena couldn’t stop herself from leaning more into his hand that still cupped her face, her eyes fluttering closed at the tender way he held her. His breathing shifted to slow and deep. She wanted to give into this moment. Give into him.

  She opened her eyes, seeing his blue irises darkening as he grabbed her around her waist, pulling her closer to him. The feel of his hard chest pressed against hers was addicting. Strong and steady.

  Elena wanted to kiss him. She was dying to see if that heat and spark still existed between them when there weren’t cameras rolling.

  When the kiss was just for them.

  “Hey, Ella, you alright in there?” a voice from outside the door sounded. A few knocks followed.

  Their moment was over. Jackson let her go, giving her an inch of space. And within that inch of space, it felt like the whole world was wedged between them. She ached to reach out, to pull him back to her.

  “Yeah. Ella just needed to splash some water on her neck. She got lightheaded,” Jackson lied as he grabbed the doorknob. He flashed a quick look at her as if he wasn’t ready to leave their private little space, and then opened the door.

  “You okay enough to get some shots by the water?” the cameraman asked.

  Elena forced a smile. “Sure. No problem.”

  “Great. Let’s get over there. We’re running behind. Stephanie will kill us if we mess up her schedule.”

  After they filmed additional footage and left Boone Hall, Jackson drove them for a quick stop to Isle of Palms, the setting for The Beach House by Mary Alice Monroe. An hour later, he finally let them settle in Waterfront Park in downtown Charleston.

  “Well, that was a jam-packed date,” she commented as she helped him lay out a blanket for the picnic he had prepared.

  She took a seat after smoothing it out and watched as he dug into the picnic basket, pulling out different fruits, cheeses, meats, bread, crackers, and even wine he’d secretly poured into a nondescript bottle.

  After making them each a plate, he settled next to her and looked out to the harbor. “I know it seemed random, but I wanted to show you something.”

  “What’s that?” she asked in between bites of smoked gouda and crackers.

  “That there’s inspiration all around you. I know you said Brad wasn’t supportive of your writing. Mae might have mentioned that he was likely the reason you tabled the novel you were working on.”

  Elena shrugged and hung her head down, but said nothing.

  “I wanted to show you that Charleston has inspired so many writers. Love stories. Poems from a heartbroken man. Mysteries. Books about self-discovery. Brad was a dick, and I hate that he made you doubt your passions. But you don’t need Brad. Hell, you don’t need anyone. I wanted you to see that. I wanted you to know that you could simply walk down the street or go to the beach and remember all the stories and authors based here.” Jackson placed a finger under her chin and gently pushed up, so she made eye contact. “And that you could be one of them too.”

  His words warmed her. What had seemed to be a completely random day was anything but. Jackson had taken the time to do his research, not only on the places he was showing her but also about what made her tick. And the fact that he didn’t even consult Mae⁠—someone who would have made it a hundred times easier for him to figure this all out⁠—made this even more meaningful.

  It was true. Brad had made her second-guess writing her novel. Couple that with Brittany’s undermining ways, and Elena had all but given up. It had been over a year since she had opened the manuscript that was now collecting dust on her laptop. Only a quarter way in and she had abandoned it all because Brad made it seem like a silly hobby.

  And here was Jackson, showing her that her writing mattered. Encouraging her never to give up and to not give in to people like Brad or Brittany. Her insides fluttered at that, and whatever murky feelings she was experiencing towards him these last few days were becoming crystal clear.

  She was falling in love with him.

  “Thank you,” she breathed out. “This was the best date ever.” And she meant it.

  “Anything for my girl.” He poured her a glass of wine, and they clinked glasses. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, they looked out to the water as the sky lit up with vibrant orange-reds, leading to pinks and purples. Charleston sunsets like this were always the most impressive to watch. And as Jackson pulled her closer to him, it just made it that much better.

  19

  Jackson

  After the sun had set, Jackson and Elena cleaned up the picnic and dumped it into his Jeep before walking down East Bay to the nearby brewery. Jackson held open the heavy wooden door and followed in behind her, finding the space transformed.

  Tables had been pushed to the sides, creating an open area on the worn wooden floors. A small band was assembling on a makeshift stage adjacent to the bar. The camera crew, Stephanie, and Celeste sat huddled in a corner, likely talking over the events for tonight.

  Jackson watched Elena cross the room to where the other couples sat at the bar. Her posture was rigid, her smile wooden. He reached out and grabbed her hand, twirling her back to him. She squealed in surprise.

  “What’s going on?” she asked after she righted herself.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I should be asking you that. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours? You were all smiles just a few minutes ago.”

  Her shoulders sunk, and her lackluster smile faltered more. She glanced quickly at the bar and back to him. “I’m just thinking about what’s going to happen when I talk to my boss. We have some time to do damage control before the big Ella reveal happens, but he might not think it’s worth the effort.”

  She peered back to the group again, who were all chatting merrily as they took shots and laughed. “I’m going to have to tell them too. It’s the right thing to do. Keeping secrets and lying only give people like Brittany the ability to hold it over me. I’m never going to find my self-worth if I let people control me like that. It’s time to come clean.” Her lips lifted into a sad smile. “They’re going to hate me,” she said, her voice small.

  Jackson rubbed his hands up and down the soft skin of her arms, hoping to soothe her somehow. “They’re not going to hate you, Elena.”

  “They will. I spent this week getting to know them. All their hopes and worries. Their intimate moments. I’ve guided them through issues as if I was some expert in a healthy relationship. Meanwhile, I made it all up. They trusted me, and I lied.” She shrugged and bit her lip
. “If I lose their trust, I have nobody to blame but myself.”

  He stooped lower, capturing her tormented gaze. “You can’t think like that.”

  “I just don’t see how they could feel anything otherwise.” Elena let out a dry laugh and pushed her hair behind her ears. “God, I’m going to need to talk to Christopher about this too before I tell them. This could blow up in my face. Rachel and Celeste might kill me if this gets out.”

  “Well, like you said. It’s time to be in control of your life. If you lose their trust and it causes a rift with your publisher, it will suck. But you’re coming clean now, and that’s gotta count for something.” He held his head up with determination. “You get to write your own story here. And no matter what happens, I’ll be by your side.”

  He thought he saw a small glimmer of defiance in her eyes, a hint of the fiery girl he knew was deep inside of her. Maybe there was some hope for her after all.

  “Ella! Jackson! Get over here and take a shot with us,” Martiza yelled, waving her hand frantically as if it was hard to get their attention in the nearly empty space.

  Jackson grabbed Elena’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Let’s just enjoy tonight. No more worrying about Brittany or your job or telling the truth. You’ll find the right moment. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “What are we having here?” Jackson asked as they approached the bar.

  “Tequila,” Hari said while shoving a small plastic shot glass into Jackson’s hand.

  “At a brewery?”

  “It’s all part of the tango experience. Apparently, tequila is much better than beer when it comes to loosening up our hips for dancing.”

  “I can attest to that,” Elena commented with a small laugh. “Wow. You guys look like you’re having fun.” She took a shot from Natalie.

  “Today was great,” Ana said. “The whole week has been, actually. Zach and I desperately needed a trip like this.”

  “Agreed,” Martiza said as she and Max held out their shots.

  “Ditto,” Natalie added, clinking the cheap shot glass against theirs. She eyed Jackson and Elena, who still had their glasses down on the bar. “C’mon, guys. Glasses up. Let’s cheers to an amazing week.”

  “And to Ella,” Maritza added with an appreciative smile. “You’ve been nothing but kind and supportive this whole time.”

  The group nodded in agreement.

  “To Ella!” they cheered in unison as they threw back their shots.

  Elena shot Jackson a quick look, one of regret and panic.

  Stephanie strolled up with a few members of the camera crew, her clipboard in hand. “How were your dates? The crew showed me some of the footage. Good stuff.”

  They all murmured something along the lines of their dates being good.

  “Cool. Well, in a minute, we’ll have the dance instructors Juan and Carlos get you started. Juan will take the ladies, and the guys will be with Carlos for the first part.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to be dancing together?” Natalie asked as she waved down the bartender for a refill.

  “Yeah. But we want to teach you a few moves before you get paired up.” A slow smile spread across Stephanie’s face. “Your dates were sweet. Now it’s time to bring the heat.”

  The tango was undeniably sexy if you had the right partner. Exactly what was needed to get Elena’s mind off her worries.

  Jackson knew Elena could dance. It was in her blood. When they were growing up, Elena would come over to Jackson’s parents’ house with some new moves she’d picked up from her father, trying to get Mae to learn something.

  Jackson grinned at the memory. Mae was awful. Worse than awful. In her last failed attempt, she threw up her hands and claimed she was plagued with “boring white girl hips” and would never be able to dance the way Elena did.

  He pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a laugh. In his travels around the world, he would immerse himself in the local culture. After a full day of surfing and talking to the locals, they’d often invited him to their local watering holes. Many were divey, hidden holes in the wall. The drinks were strong but cheap. The crowd was lively. The music festive. And the dancing was hot.

  More often than not, the women were eager to teach Jackson some of their sexiest dances, pressing their bodies against him, twisting around him. After years of it, he had actually gotten pretty good. No longer was he just keeping up with the basic steps, he now felt confident enough to put his own fun flair on the dances.

  And Elena had no idea.

  This is going to be fun.

  After the couples dispersed with their respective instructor and they learned the basic steps⁠—ones Jackson pretended not to know because he saw Elena glancing at him every so often⁠—the instructors concluded their quick lessons.

  “Alright, everyone,” Carlos said, his accent strong. “It’s time to tango! Grab your partner, and let’s get started.” He turned to the band, giving them instructions to start.

  The music swelled around them, pulsing through his body, as he slowly crossed the room to Elena. He watched her body sway to the music, a soft expression on her face as she listened to something familiar. Something she loved.

  He took her in his arms, holding them out the way he learned in those beachside clubs in South and Central America.

  Elena gave him a surprised, but appreciative look. “You’ve got some great posture. Carlos must have been a good teacher.”

  He grinned. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  They started with the basic steps. Jackson took a slow step forward, Elena followed with a step back. Another step forward. Then to the right, and a slow drag of the foot. He could tell Elena was taking it easy on him, moving cautiously as if expecting him to be new to this. She watched his feet, probably half expecting him to get the steps wrong or to step on her.

  The couples around them fumbled awkwardly. Laughing as they bumped into each other. Max dramatically spun Maritza, giving up completely on trying to get the steps right.

  “You’re doing good,” Elena commented, still watching their feet.

  “Elena, look at me,” he said quietly.

  As soon as her brown eyes locked on his, he let her have it. No longer were the steps stiff and measured. Now he put his body into it. His heart.

  He moved fluidly, pulling her closer to him as he did so. His hands ran along her body as he dipped her and brought her back up, their faces only millimeters from each other. A look of surprise crossed her face.

  “Jackson?”

  He grinned slowly and spun her, pulling her back against him again. He licked his lips and cocked his head. “What’s wrong, Elena? Do I have more rhythm than a Spanish girl?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “How?” she choked out.

  “I picked up a few things while traveling. Think you can keep up?”

  She lifted an eyebrow, her confidence flaring as she made the decision to rise to the challenge. He loved that gleam in her eyes when she was feeling competitive. “Do you?”

  Jackson brought his face closer to her, a mere whisper between their lips. He looked her deep in the eyes, watching her swallow, her mouth parting. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  He pushed her away slightly so she’d fall into a corte step, both of them lunging. Jackson pulled her back, and Elena wrapped her leg around his hips as he dipped her low, her back arching in his hands.

  There was a fire in her eyes, every teasing look was driving him wild. Her sundress fluttered around them as she spun, dipped, and wrapped her legs around him. It was by far the most erotic thing he had ever experienced in his life.

  Every movement had her body molding with his. They moved seamlessly, their bodies pulling together like two magnets. She ran her hands down his neck, along his arms. He did the same to her. They danced in unison, their foreheads nearly pressed together as they looked into each other’s eyes, trusting each other’s bodies to know where to go.

  The world faded away. All Ja
ckson could hear was the music surrounding them and the sound of Elena’s breath. His gaze broke from hers, watching the swell of her breasts as he dipped her low again. He leaned down, trailing his lips along the soft skin of her throat, tasting a bit of her sweetness mixed with sweat. Her thick hair, now affected by their exertion, transformed into beautiful wild waves.

  For a moment, he could imagine it’s what her hair would look like if he got her naked and made her the happiest, most satisfied woman on the planet.

  The thought of her moaning his name had blood shifting south at breakneck speed.

  He swung her back up, her eyes darkened in the dim bar. Her pupils dilated as she watched his mouth.

  She licked her lips and let out a breath. And that’s when he knew she was just as turned on as he was.

  Everything in Jackson’s body screamed to take her. Every time she wrapped her leg around his waist, knowing only his jeans and a thin scrap of her panties were between them was enough to make him crazy.

  Their near-miss moments this week had been sweet. Innocent. Romantic, even. But this was something entirely different. It’s as if every fantasy he had about Elena this week had culminated in this dance, trying to show her that he was worth it. Trying to entice her to kiss him. Feel him. To give in.

  Elena was tempting him in ways he had never been. Seeing her like this, feeling her like this, sucked the air from his lungs. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder caveman-style, drag her back to her apartment, and bury himself in her.

  The music around them died, pulling them out of their private dancing foreplay. Elena’s arms loosened around his neck, her body pulled away slightly.

  That’s when he heard it—the clapping.

  Jackson dragged his eyes away from Elena and noticed they were the only ones on the dance floor. The couples, camera crew, and instructors were circled around them, amazement crossing their faces.