Page 34 of About that Fling (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #2)

“It’s not okay.” She shook her head, letting the bag drop to her side. “I’ve been thinking.”

He glanced at the bag. “Would you think better at a table with that food on plates in front of us?”

She laughed. “Hungry, are you?”

“I didn’t realize how ravenous I was until you showed up.”

Her laughter faded to a sad little smile, and she looked at him oddly for a moment. “Funny how that works.”

“Are we talking about something besides pot roast?”

“Come on,” she said, gesturing to his door. “We can talk about pot roast and regrets and everything else once we get inside.”

“Deal.” Adam moved past her and slid his key card into the slot, his arm brushing the side of her breast as he twisted the knob and pushed open the door.

He felt her close behind him as he moved into the room, but he didn’t turn around.

Part of him feared he’d scare her away. Part of him feared he’d give in to temptation and say to hell with it all, throwing her back onto the bed and making love to her again the way he’d been dying to for weeks.

He headed for the kitchenette and pulled open a cupboard. He kept his back to her as he gathered plates and silverware. “Did you bring that apple pie?”

“Two slices. Want me to put it in the toaster oven to warm up while we eat?”

“Yes, please.”

Adam grabbed a few napkins left over from his pizza run last Friday. Christ, was that less than a week ago? His time at Belmont was flying by.

Jenna twisted a knob on the toaster oven and turned away, moving toward the small dining table near the window. He’d left the curtains open, letting Portland’s silvery lights spill through the room. The city sprawled out below like a sheet of black felt sprinkled with glitter.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Jenna said again. He turned to look at her and watched her move his pile of books and spreadsheets to an empty chair. “About my Aunt Gertie.”

“Oh?” Adam carried the plates to the table, his hand brushing hers as she began to unpack the canvas bag of food. He hadn’t expected her to start out discussing her aunt, but something told him this was only a segue.

Jenna looked wistful and so fucking beautiful his chest hurt. “I keep seeing the look on Gert’s face when she told me how hard she’d worked. How badly she wants this.”

“She does seem passionate about it.”

“I know. And I feel bad that I’ve been holding her back. That I’m the reason she writes under a pen name and hasn’t claimed any of the fame she’s worked so hard to earn. She loves what she’s been writing.”

“I could see that,” he said, not sure where she was headed with all this. “Your aunt seems like a very passionate woman.”

“She is. And even though I’m scared about what’s going to happen, I’m excited for her, too. I’m proud of her for going after what she wants. She hasn’t had an easy life.” Jenna nibbled her lip. “Her sister died young—my mother?”

“I’m so sorry.” His brain logged the fact that this was a rare moment of Jenna opening up to him. “What happened?”

“Cancer.” He watched her take a steadying breath. “She died when I was sixteen.”

“I’m so sorry, Jenna.”

She nodded, summoning strength for the rest of the story as she pulled out glass containers of pot roast and mashed potatoes and roasted veggies.

“Mom always dreamed of becoming an author. Children’s books, not erotic romance.

She had all these ideas and a plan for getting published.

She was such a talented artist and so brave.

I—I always wished I could be more like her.

She took care of everyone, every thing .

” When she looked up, she had tears shimmering in her eyes. “I miss her so much.”

“Jenna.” He saw what a precious gift she’d just given him. This woman didn’t share her frailties with just anyone. “She sounds like an incredible woman.”

“She was.” Jenna bit her lip. “I hate that she never got to chase her dream. Being a children’s book author? And maybe because of that, I’ve felt pressure to throw everything I’ve got at my own work.”

“That makes sense.” He wanted to keep her talking, keep her sharing her story and herself. “Your mom sounds amazing. How far did she get with the children’s book?”

“She had her first one mostly finished. Drew all of the pictures and wrote most of the story. She even had an agent for a while, but that fell by the wayside when she got sick.” Jenna swallowed, her eyes getting misty again.

“Even then, Mom kept charging ahead, refusing to let cancer beat her. I didn’t even realize how sick she was.

She kept working on her goal right up until—” Her voice broke, and Adam’s heart ached for her.

“Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat.

“Mom always had everything under control. At least, until she didn’t. ”

“God, Jenna.” He set plates on opposite sides of the table, anchoring napkins beside each one with a knife and fork.

He felt hungry for the food, but even hungrier for everything she might want to share with him.

For this rare flash of vulnerability she’d just offered.

“I wish I’d had a chance to meet her. She sounds like a special person. ”

“She was. I always admired how she held it together. Protecting Gert. Protecting me.”

There was probably a lot to unpack in those details, but Adam sensed she was reaching her limit on sharing. Unpacking the Tupperware seemed like the kinder move, so he helped her pry off the lids. “I’m sorry about your mom,” he said. “I wish she’d gotten to chase her dreams to completion.”

“Thank you.” Jenna looked up, the flash in her eyes signaling a subject change. “What do you want, Adam?”

He blinked. “The pot roast.”

She smiled and handed him the container. “I meant out of life. Your career, your relationships, your place in this world.”

“Pretty heavy discussions on an empty stomach. Give me a sec?”

She nodded as he filled his plate with mashed potatoes, piling it with two slabs of pot roast. He doused the whole thing with gravy while he thought of the woman who’d prepared the feast and the woman who’d brought it here to him.

The woman missing from both of their lives whose loss touched them all in different ways.

He couldn’t imagine the pain Jenna must feel losing her mother like that.

She’d asked him a question, so he owed her an answer.

He gave it some thought as he picked up his fork and dove into the roasted veggies.

“I guess I want happiness.” He stabbed up a big pile of carrots and zucchini, wolfing half of it down before speaking again.

“Stability. Some career milestones to be proud of.”

“I can respect that.”

He moved to the meat, cutting a thick hunk to chew while considering her question.

“I want the career success, but mostly I want people around me who make me laugh.” He took another bite of pot roast. “More than anything, I want the ability to go to bed each night and think, ‘I made a difference for someone.’”

Drizzling more gravy on the meat, he forked up another bite and chewed as Jenna stood watching him. She hovered beside him, not taking her seat, seemingly lost in thought.

Her fingers lightly touched the edge of the table, hesitating there on the edge. “I want all that, too,” she said softly. “And also, I want you.”

Adam choked on his food. Jenna reached over and tried to whack him a few times on the back, but he waved her off.

He stood up and made a beeline for the kitchenette where he leaned over the tap and guzzled at least twelve gallons of water before stopping to fill two glasses.

He made his way back to the table as Jenna watched him, her expression uncertain.

He set one glass in front of each plate and took his seat again. As he dove back into his dinner, he watched her stand there nibbling her lip. Watched her eyes dart to the bed as he wolfed down the food. Did she mean I want you, like that? The same way he ached to toss her back on the bed and?—

“I want you, too,” he said softly. “Very much. Sadly, we can’t do anything about it.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said.

“But I’ve also been thinking about my aunt.

About the look on her face when she talks about her writing.

About the passion she feels when she does something she’s really good at.

I’m good at my job, Adam, but it’s not the same thing. I want the other kind of passion.”

“The sweaty kind?”

“Right. I mean, something like that. I want the kind of passion I felt with you.”

Adam took a slow sip of water, washing down the meal. Doing his best to wash away the urge to take her in his arms. How could he still want one woman this badly? It made no sense at all, but here he was wanting her so much he felt like his skin was on fire.

“I remember,” he said. “Our fling was pretty phenomenal in the grand scheme of flings.”

Jenna nibbled her lip. “It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?”

He nodded, though he wasn’t quite sure they meant the same thing.

But they did. Her next words confirmed it. “The passion was great—the sex, I mean. But it goes beyond that. When I’m with you, I feel alive. I feel seen and heard and understood in a way I’ve never felt before.”

God, he felt the same. “I know what you mean. Something between us just fits.” He took another sip of water.

“I try to stay away from you, not to lie awake at night wishing I could have you again, just one more time. Or wishing we could stay up all night talking and touching and making each other laugh—not just the sex.”

She smiled and nodded as he spoke. “I want all that, too.”

They stared at each other across the table. Everything hinged on who made the next move. What was the right thing to do here? He had no idea. All Adam knew is that he’d never needed anyone like he needed Jenna McArthur.

“Guess our fling became way more complex,” he murmured.