Page 68 of Black Jack (Advantage Play 5)

“Fine.” She stands up and takes a few steps toward the bedroom before turning on her heel to face me again. “And as for being in Kingston’s pocket, he’s not a bad guy. I mean, maybe by law enforcement standards he might be, but when it comes to real shit, he’s a good person to have on your team. I don’t think you’ll regret that connection.”

“I hope I won’t, either.”

Then she disappears down the hall while I try to cut myself some damn slack before realizing that’s a hell of a lot easier said than done.

21

Bianca

He’s already seen it.

He’s already seen it.

He’s already seen it.

I continue to chant the same four words over and over again as I grasp the door handle with sweaty hands while avoiding my reflection in the vanity mirror like it’s the plague. Rolling my shoulders back, I stride into the family room, then wait for the look of disgust to spark on Jack’s handsome face.

A bowl of popcorn rests in his lap as he flips through the channels on the television in search of something decent to watch. Or maybe he’s just searching for another mind-numbing basketball game. Regardless, he’s so immersed in his options that he doesn’t acknowledge my presence. Which leaves me awkwardly rocking back on my heels as I cross my arms defensively across my chest and wait for his judgment.

“So, when I said get comfortable, did you take that as an order to stand next to the couch instead of sitting your ass down on it?” Jack asks without bothering to look at me.

I clear my throat, then force myself to plop down next to him. “I didn’t know you were so bossy.”

“I didn’t know you were so uncomfortable relaxing with your husband,” he returns with a mischievous smirk.

Husband.

The word makes my heart skip a beat, but I ignore it and reach for the bowl of popcorn. When my fingers come back greasy, I purse my lips before popping the kernel into my mouth.

“It’s buttered,” I point out.

“It’s popcorn,” he returns just as quickly. “Of course, it’s buttered.”

“Not all popcorn needs to be buttered.”

“It does if you want it to be edible.” He grabs a handful then shoves it into his mouth but keeps his eyes glued to the television. “What do you feel like watching? Sitcom? Rom-com? Action? Thriller? Horror? Basketball? Throw me a bone, will ya?”

Gah! He’s so damn irritating!

“Jack,” I seethe. “Will you just look at me?”

He glances over at me, then tosses another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“What?” he asks through a mouthful of snacks.

“You’re not gonna…say anything?”

His gaze bounces around my face but doesn’t linger on my cheek before he turns his attention back to the giant-ass screen on the wall. “I like your hair up like that.”

I touch the lazy, messy bun I’d piled on top of my head, shocked that that’s what he noticed.

“Oh.” Reminding myself to breathe, I drop my hands back to my lap and twist the fabric of my worn, red T-shirt like a wet dishrag. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. How ‘bout a sitcom? I think we could both use a good laugh tonight.”

Just like that, my nerves melt away, leaving a regular girl next to a regular guy who is about to waste an entire night in front of the TV. I settle into the couch and grab another greasy, overly-buttered handful of deliciousness while ignoring the foreign elation that pulses through my veins. “That sounds…that sounds perfect, Jacky Boy.”

And it really does.