Page 37

JACK

“Rumi.”

I say her name again, loving the way it feels on my lips.

Almost as much as I love feeling her lips on mine.

The thought of Rumi ever being a bad idea seems so laughable now—this moment with her, opening up to her, just further proved that my feelings for her are developing into something worth exploring.

Sure, maybe this kiss will make this friendship between us harder, maybe I’m jumping the gun in assuming she even wants to be more than friends with someone as fucked up as me.

But what I do know, deep in my soul, is I would do anything to make myself worthy of her and Evee. I want to be a man she can depend on, someone who will care for and cherish her the way she deserves.

The person she can trust to protect them and keep them safe—something I’m not too sure she’s ever had before.

While I want to be better for myself, I want to be better for Rumi and Evee too. I want to be a man I can be proud of.

A man Bennett would be proud of.

With one hand on Rumi’s cheek and the other wrapped around her waist, I hold her close—and I’m already dreading having to let go, knowing how her skin feels beneath my palm.

I can see all the questions in her blue eyes as she looks into mine, the same questions that I have but have no intention of asking right now.

What does this mean?

Where do we go from here?

How soon can we do it again?

I smile to myself at the last one ready to lean in and close the distance between us, needing to kiss her like I need air to breathe.

“Jack!”

I freeze, my lips only mere centimeters away from hers when the voice says my name again.

Moments like this make me wish I was an only fucking child.

I let go of Rumi’s cheek, watching as that familiar blush appears, my heart stuttering at the way she bites her lip, hiding a smile as we both turn over our shoulders to see my sister and Ava, with a sleeping Evee strapped to her chest, standing just outside the front door of Hey Honey’s.

Part of me feels like a teenager caught with his pants around his ankles.

But then I remember I’m 36 years old, and if I want to kiss my friend against the trunk of her car, that’s sure as fuck what I’m going to do.

It’s taking everything in me not to throw her in her backseat, away from prying eyes, so I can kiss her over and over again. On her lips, her neck, her chest, everywhere and anywhere she’ll let me.

With the image of Rumi, laid out and flushed in the backseat of her car—or even better, my bed—now at the forefront in my brain, my answer to my sister comes out much louder than anticipated.

“What?” I bark as Rumi pushes herself off from where she was leaning on her car, interlacing her hands behind her back as she walks over to Emerson and Ava.

I hear a little giggle come from her as I do the same, following close behind her.

“We wanted to see what you were up to next weekend?” my sister asks. I don’t miss the raised brow as she looks between Rumi and me, and I’m sure Rumi notices Ava do the same.

“I’m off Friday but work Saturday.” I don’t bother asking why, knowing she’s going to tell me anyway, images of Rumi under me, on top of me, her sweet skin against my palms, her soft lips against mine fading to the back of my mind.

I don’t even attempt to not pull her close to me, grabbing one of the hands locked behind her back, using it to bring her close to my side, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist.

Now that I know what it’s like to have her in my arms, I have a hard time believing I’ll be able to fight the urge to touch her whenever she’s near.

“Great.” Emerson’s eyes, along with Ava’s, slightly widen at my public display of affection, and for a second I’m worried I crossed a line—one I’m not sure Rumi was ready to even approach.

But then I feel Rumi sink into my side as Emerson continues, my worries melting away.

“The drive-in theater is doing a showing of your favorite book-to-movie adaptations.”

She waits for me to say something, but I just wait for her to continue.

“You really are a man of many words,” Ava mutters, but it’s loud enough for me to hear. “Let me guess, not one for small talk either?” she says a little louder.

“Waste of time,” I answer.

“Anyway,” Emerson interjects, stretching out the world. “Ava and I thought it would be fun for us all to go.”

Ava nods, but I don’t have time to ask her what movie she’s talking about—having no idea what cozy mystery I’ve read recently has been turned into a movie—because Rumi asks, “All of us?” I squeeze my hand around her waist, fighting a smile at the way her voice raises an octave.

“Yes, all of us,” Ava answers matter-of-factly, using a hand to gesture between the four of us. “I’m letting Drew, Mia, and Annie know too because I know how much they love the franchise.” She turns to me. “And maybe you can bring your friend, Anderson?”

I can’t stop my brows raising at the mention of my co-worker. He’s still stuck to me like glue, no doubt keeping an eye on me for the chief, even though I have yet to miss a therapy session or have any issues in the field.

“Anderson?” Rumi questions, but I look down and see the curve of her lips, even with her mouth slightly ajar in shock.

The three of us look at the redhead as she sways side to side to keep Evee asleep against her. “What?” she asks, looking around at us. “He’s cute, and I need to get laid.”

“And maybe he’s a Twilight -lover too.” Emerson turns to me and realization dawns.

“I am not a Twilight lover,” I tell my sister, but it’s too late.

Rumi turns to me, and I miss the contact of her body the second she’s no longer at my side but standing in front of me, her hands on her hips, her eyes wide. “You too?” The way she says it is as if it’s the biggest betrayal.

“What do you mean, ‘you too’?” Ava exclaims, causing Rumi to turn and face her.

“You’re the weird one here—the only person on the planet who hasn’t even seen five minutes of one of the Twilight movies.

You didn’t even read the books in middle school like a normal person.

You skipped straight to the vampire sm?—”

“Hey!” Rumi interrupts her, but I know enough about romance genres to figure out what she was about to say.

“Yeah, even Jack read them,” Emerson adds, helping Ava’s argument but making me want to strangle her in the process, the same way Rumi looks like she wants to do to Ava.

Rumi’s eyes get even wider as she looks back at me. “ You read the books?”

I put my hands up in surrender, shaking my head, ready to explain. “It’s not?—”

“Of course he did,” Emerson answers for me.

“He joined my mom’s book club during one of her chemo runs when they read the first one—he read it to her because she was so tired from the treatments.

” I look to my sister, more surprised than upset that she offered the information so willingly to Rumi and Ava, knowing my mom’s cancer journey and the impact it had on her isn’t easy for her to talk about.

“Then, he read the next three on his own.”

Ava and Rumi both look at me, and I decide it’s not worth arguing. I shrug my shoulders. “I wanted to know how the series ended.”

I don’t mention that the books were something I talked about with my mom, her having read the rest of the series on her own when she went into remission. We saw the movies together, knowing they weren’t masterpieces, but it was something we shared.

Rumi and Ava turn to look at each other, Rumi shaking her head, seemingly already knowing what Ava is about to say. “See, now you have to at least watch the movies.”

Rumi’s head falls back, and she lets out a dramatic groan.

“That’s the spirit,” Emerson quips.

Rumi’s eyes turn to slits when they land on my sister.

“If I knew becoming your friend would result in another person telling me to consume Twilight media, I wouldn’t have said anything about Hey Honey’s hiring in your presence.

” She crosses her arms, and I have to roll my lips together to hide my smile at her defiance—one of my favorite sides to see of her.

Not that I could ever really pick a favorite.

Emerson brings a hand to her chest. “Aw, Rumi. I love you too,” she teases, making Ava snort, and my smile finally becomes too big to hide.

I watch Rumi roll her eyes, and she’s close to accepting her defeat. “What time is the showing?”

“At 7 p.m.,” Emerson and Ava say in unison.

With a sigh, she relents. “I’ll have to see if Sadie is free to watch Evee.”

Ava looks at me. “You’ll text Rumi what Anderson says, so she can let me know?” She raises a brow, and I’m not surprised her and my sister get along so well, their scheming tendencies are much too similar for my liking.

I nod, pretending not to notice her eyes flit to my sister who gives her a subtle nod, as if they’re two masterminds watching their plan come to fruition. “He should be free.”

Anderson works the same rotation as me, and he hasn’t stopped asking me about my friend’s “redheaded roommate” since the night we did the inspection at their duplex.

“Then it’s settled,” Emerson says. “You and Rumi can ride in your truck—the back will be perfect for the drive-in theater. Anderson and Ava can ride in his car.”

“What about you?” Rumi asks my sister. She’s found her place back at my side throughout this exchange, gravitating toward me slowly like she didn’t even realize she was doing it. I wrap my arm back around her waist, the smell of vanilla enveloping me.

“Oh, I’m not going,” Emerson answers.

“What?” I snap. After this whole ordeal, interrupting Rumi and me, orchestrating this whole plan, scheming with Ava, she’s just not going?

“Don’t get me wrong. I love the movies—didn’t read the books though—but I don’t want to be a fifth wheel.” She turns to Ava. “If Anderson ditches, let me know. I’ll be your date.”

“Who said anything about dates?” Rumi exasperates, her skin goes hot. I can feel it even through the fabric of her shorts.

Emerson and Ava both look at Rumi and tilt their heads as if to say seriously? The corners of their mouths twitch with what I can only assume is suppressed sarcasm.

Again, it’s no wonder they hit it off so well.

Rumi looks up at me for backup, but even I can’t pretend to not see what’s happening here. With her cheeks the prettiest shade of pink, she looks down at her feet, and I don’t care that we have an audience. “What is it, pretty girl? Don’t want to go on a date with me?”

“Are you asking me on a date, firefighter?” she asks, her voice soft and breathy.

“Absolutely not,” I answer. “I’m accepting this date that your friend and my sister planned for us.”

Rumi laughs as Emerson and Ava walk around us, heading to Ava’s car, and I’m thankful for the reprieve of their knowing eyes.

“But, if you’ll let me, I’d love to take you and Evee on a date tomorrow.”

Rumi’s eyes slightly widen. “Are we sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something.” The answer comes as natural as breathing, even if I might not be so sure of how to navigate what the fuck is happening between us.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks, her pretty blue eyes shimmering with golden flecks from the sunset.

“Anything.”

“Are we sure this is a good idea? It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date, but I’m pretty sure it’s not something friends do.” The word “friend” makes my skin prickle, the thought of Rumi as my friend—while intriguing when I first met her—now makes me irrationally angry.

Instead of admitting this to her, I say, “You don’t sound too enthusiastic about going on a date with me.”

“Would you like me to scream my acceptance instead?”

The laugh that escapes me makes her lips roll together, trying to fight a smile of her own. “I’m still waiting to hear it to begin with actually,” I tease.

Her smile falls slightly. “Friends don’t go on dates.” She’s trying to keep distance between us, distance that sounded good when we first met but not anymore. Not after I felt her lips on mine, not after I learned what it's like to have her in my arms.

I want nothing between us.

Unless it’s Evee.

“Then it’s a very good thing I plan to be more than just your friend, Rumi.”