“Rae. It’s late.”

“I know, but—”

“Rae,” he ground out, using my hold on his hand to bring us back to a stop. I faced him, my stomach erupting in uncertainty butterflies as I encountered the stern line of his jaw and the glittering, frustrated spark behind his eyes. “We need everyone to believe we’re just friends, right? And if we go inside the house, I don’t think I’m a good enough actor to pull that off.”

My mouth formed an O, and I released him, folding my arms over my chest while I wrestled with a strange combination of disappointment and pleasure at his words. I wanted to spend time with him, talk to him, get to know this mystery of a man so I could understand my feelings better.

But . . . I conceded his point.

We couldn’t seem to be around each other without kissing. Bringing him inside a dark, empty house in the middle of the night was something better left to my fantasies.

For now.

Oh really, inner voice? Now you’re impudent? Now?

He exhaled a short breath, it also sounded frustrated, but his tone was soft as he said, “Hey.”

I placed a tight smile on my face, it was the best I could manage. “Hey.”

Jackson seemed to be considering me, debating what to do next. He didn’t take too long. “Do you want to go for a drive?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “Yes, I do. Let me grab a jacket.”

“Okay. I’ll wait here.” He shifted his weight to his back foot and hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets.

I wanted to take a picture of him like this, all handsome reluctance and sexy self-control. This man, he just did something to me. I couldn’t explain it.

But maybe if we took this drive and spent some time together talking—just talking—I’d start to figure it out.