AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s not like I’m unhealthy or reckless or anything.”
“I’m not talking about the exterior stuff.”
“So, youdothink I need a relationship to be happy,” I reply, cocking an eyebrow.
“No, but I wish you’d cut yourself some slack. You’re too hard on yourself most of the time, probably because you’re busy trying to be someone you’re not,” she says, pointing an accusatory finger. “I think Loren has known you long enough to see you for who you really are, andthatis what you need.”
I purse my lips and look away, and another text alert comes through. I sigh as I look at the screen again, figuring it’s Jase’s unwillingness to take no for an answer, but I swallow hard when I see Loren’s name.
Loren R
Keep in mind my current predicament and ignore how crazy these next couple of messages are going to sound.
Do you have peanut butter at your house? Or should I bring my own?
Jada clicks her tongue, bringing me back. “Look at you. You are a smitten kitten, Blake Bourgeois.”
I tap on the text thread with Jase and flip the screen to face her. “See how much you know. I was replying to an invitation for Friday night. Jase needs me to be his wingman.”
But another message pops up before I have the wherewithal to turn my phone around.
Loren R
Do you keep it in stock regularly, or do you run a BYOPB household?
I need to know these things if we’re going to be an item.
“Right, right. And what is it that I’m adding to your shopping list to keep your girlfriend happy?”
I sigh. “Peanut butter. And other sandwich paraphernalia, I guess.”
“Is Loren a strawberry or grape girl?”
“Strawberry, I think. I’ll let you know if I’m wrong,” I say, resigned.
“I know you will, my little smitty-kitty,” Jada says with a wink on her way out of my office.
CHAPTER 12
Loren
“This feels like a terrible idea now,”I say as we pull up to the home of one of my coworkers.
Her husband’s family was from a long line of farmers, and around here, that was the equivalent of “old money.” They have a huge home and an even bigger outdoor kitchen and patio area, and since Mrs. Julie loves entertaining, she ends up hosting most of our faculty gatherings. This time, it’s a retirement party for our former assistant principal, Mr. Vidrine.
Blake shrugs. “It won’t be so bad. We’ll go in, shock the hell out of everyone, rip off that Band-Aid, then interject a little PDA for good measure,” he says, bouncing his eyebrows suggestively.
“Fine,” I reply with a grin. “Let’s do it.” I’m not sure why or how, but he’s managed to earn my trust pretty quickly. Well, I probably trust him with my life, but my heart is another story.
He comes around to help me out of the passenger seat, which is fortunate since my legs aren’t quite long enough to make that hop gracefully. Then he reaches down and laces his fingers between mine as he leads me toward the backyard.
The sounds of country music and laughter ring out as we approach the party, and the first thing I see when I round the corner is a huge “Happy Retirement James” sign. There’s also another, smaller poster beneath that reads, “Good Luck Sucker,” with a line drawn through the word “sucker” and “JD” scrawled above it.
I’m snickering to myself when I look away and realize everyone’s eyes are on me—well, onus. I swallow the lump in my throat, and it takes all I have not to pull my hand back, but Blake holds on firmly, grounding me.
How am I already becoming so codependent on him? This is a recipe for disaster.
I mean,moredisaster.
