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Dezmond is about to blow. Before he does, he throws the papers to the ground, then runs his hands over his hair. “What the fuck. You guys are really getting involved in this.”

“We certainly are,” Cadence says, her tone as jagged as an icicle. “We love Lori. It's our job to make sure she's happy, just like it'syours,Dez. Why do we need to remind you of that?”

“You don't,” he mumbles. Eyeballing her one final time, he sticks his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “Fine. You win. Let's plan a fucking wedding. God, I need a smoke.” He strides through the lobby, straight out the front doors.

Cadence looks extremely proud of herself. Then her smile drops. “Crap, what if he's so upset, he finds my car and does something to it. I'll be back, hold on.” She rushes after Dez. I don't blame her for being paranoid, vandalizing things isn't above him.

Looking at the papers scattered on the floor, I bend down to pick them up. A boot claps down on the sheet before I lift it. “Leave it,” Jordan says.

“Why?” Staring up at him, I keep my hand on the paper.

“I don't want you touching those. That's why.”

“But I can't just leave them here. It's a mess.”

“It's my job to clean up after Dezmond.” Jordan stares at me with such intensity I shiver. “Not yours.”

Inching my hand away, I let him crouch so he can collect the papers. The black print is small, but I can still spot the wordsmarriageanddocument.I fight down a wave of anxiousness.I avoided it this time. How long until I can't anymore?

“Lori.”

I lift my head. Jordan stands over me again, his shadow longer than he is tall. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” I ask, though I have a few things I want to say to him myself.

He parts his lips, pauses. “Everything.”

Chapter 22

Weexitoutthefront, but there's no sign of Cadence or Dezmond. My phone buzzes—I check it, see the message. “Cadence had to go to work,” I explain to Jordan.

He stares at my phone. “I just realized you don't have my number.”

“Oh. I actually do,” I chuckle nervously. “It was on the slip from when you ordered all those engagement party flowers.”

Jordan shuts his eyes. I wonder if he's thinking about that day, like I am right now. “Text me,” he says suddenly, staring at me with fresh intensity. “I want to be able to reach you whenever I need to.”

“When would you need to?” I ask cheekily, typing into my phone.

“I'll correct myself. Whenever Iwantto.”

I fumble when I hit the send button. His phone chimes in his pocket, and he smirks, whispering huskily, “Good girl.”

A tremble begins in my knees. It sticks there even as I descend the steps. “Where should we talk? Right out here?”

He shakes his head. “I want privacy. Where did you park your car?” I point around the building, leading the way. It's a quick walk, but it feels like I'm treading through tar. Jordan is beside me the whole time; I don't have to shorten my stride the way I do with others. He's one of the few men I've met who is taller than me.

“Here it is,” I say, unlocking it as we approach.

“How's the new tire?”

I blush, climbing inside while he enters the passenger door. “Perfect.”

“Your mother, did you ever tell her about—”

“No. She has no clue about the accident.”

He nods, staring out the front window. “Do you know a quiet spot where no one will bother us?”