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“Actually, we don’t.”
He looks surprised. Almost excited. But as quickly as his smile springs up, he flattens it back to a neutral expression. “Any particular reason?”
“He’s been so busy with work, it’s hard for him to get away.”
“I understand that.” He pauses. “Well, we could do something after work on Friday.”
Jake wants to spend time with me? “You want to?”
“Why not? I think it’d be fun doing stuff together. As friends, of course.”
Of course. He thinks I’m dating someone else. “I’d like that.”
Should I have lied and told him I was busy with Vance? Maybe, but a part of me wants to see what Jake plans. Something about being near him feels good. It feels right. Hiding from him won’t get me the answers I want.
“Good.” He smiles.
I pause. “What do you have in mind?”
“Why don’t you let me cook for you? I make a mean stir fry.”
“Sounds yummy,” I reply. “You’re on.”
We spend the next few hours in the living room talking about anything and everything. We laugh. We get philosophical. It feels cozy. Intimate. Easy. I don’t realize it’s almost midnight until I see the clock on the wall.
“Crap, is that the time?”
He turns to the clock. “Oh, damn. We should probably hit the hay, huh?”
“Yeah.” I stand. “Thank you for tonight. This was fun.”
“Of course.” He stands with me. “Did you get enough to eat?”
“Yes, and then some.” I laugh as I start down the hall to my bedroom, Jake trailing behind me. “I can’t wait for lunch.”
“When lunch is leftover pizza, hell, yeah.”
When I reach my bedroom door, I turn to face him. “Do you need help with the dishes? I’m sorry; I just remembered we piled them all in the sink.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll take care of it. Get some sleep.”
“Right. Okay, thanks.” I should say good night, yet I hesitate. I’m so nervous, I can’t help but look down at my feet.
He hooks a finger under my chin. I swear I feel my heart skip a beat. How does this man keep confusing me? “Good night, baby girl.”
Jake has called me that nickname so often, one hundred percent of the time to tease me. Now he’s using it as a term of endearment? And I like it? Yes. This is serious.
“G-good night.” I turn from his touch, something I regret the minute I walk through my bedroom door and close it behind me.
A part of me wishes he followed me and crawled into my bed—preferably naked—and patted the sheet beside him, his eyes full of hot expectation. The more I imagine the scene, the more I burn for his touch. What the hell is going on between us?
Is what I’m feeling actually real? And does he have feelings for me? If so, how soon will the other shoe drop? Dread mixes with excitement. The last time I let myself want Jake Hall, it didn’t end well. How do I make sure it ends differently now?
Chapter Thirteen
January 6
Mia