“October 17th,” I said flatly.
“That’s soon. I’d love to help you celebrate.” He was trying to distract me.
“You’re twenty-nine.”
“Exactly. That means I’ve had twenty-nine years of experience celebrating birthdays, and I don’t mean to brag, but I’m kind of an expert now.” He laughed nervously while I stood there unable to form actual words. Finally, he asked the necessary question. “How old are you?”
“Not twenty-nine,” I fired back.
“I gathered that.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Not because I think you don’t look it, but because you keep saying the word ‘twenty-nine’ like it’s poisonous or something.”
“I’ll be thirty-seven,” I said finally.
“Okay.” He shrugged.
“When I was thirty, you were twenty-two.”
“Believe it or not, I can do basic math.” He held up his hands and wiggled them. “Without even using my fingers.”
“When I was twenty, you were twelve.”
“Way to make it weird,” he teased.
I stared back at him blankly. “I think it’s time for me to go home.” I started to brush past him, but he grabbed me gently by my arm.
“Whoa, wait a minute,” he pleaded. “I was messing with you. There’s nothing about this that’s weird.”
“Jax, I’m eight years older than you.” I wasn’t sure what part of that he wasn’t getting.
“Yeah, and I don’t care.” Jax’s hand slid down my arm until he held my hand. He looked at my delicate hand in his strong one for a moment before focusing his intense eyes back on me. “I like you, Liv. I don’t give a fuck about your age.”
“You may not think so now, but—”
“But nothing,” he said emphatically. Visions of Jessica Rabbit the supermodel danced in my head. You never think it matters until it does. He looked at me earnestly as if I’d spoken my thoughts out loud. My gaze fell to my feet, but he hooked his finger beneath my chin, bringing my eyes back to his. “I don’t pretend to know everything you went through with your ex, but I can tell you one damn thing for sure. I’m not him.”
I don’t know if it was the way his spicy, woodsy scent mixed with the crisp autumn air, the sugar rush from the donuts, or if it was the way he looked at me like I was something special, but something inside me wanted to believe him.
“I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve felt a connection between us ever since I saw you standing outside that dressing room, and I think you feel it too.” He took a step closer to me, my hand still enclosed in his. “So, I’m going to ask you again. Will you let me know you?’
“I don’t know, Jax.” I shook my head.
“Please.” His mouth stretched into an adorable grin. “I promise I’ll grow on you.”
“Like a fungus?” I asked, my lips curling into a smile against my will.
“Exactly like that,” he murmured, reaching for my other hand. I relished in the feeling of his calloused fingers against my skin.
“Okay,” I agreed. I withdrew my hands from his, and a flash of disappointment flickered across his face. “Friends. We can be friends.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Uh-huh.”
“Friends,” I insisted.
“You drive a hard bargain, Olivia Sinclair.” He nodded slowly, pressing his lips together. “Alright. Fine. Whatever I have to agree to for you not to shut us down.”
“There is nous,” I reminded him, tilting my head in warning.
“Not yet.” He grinned at me playfully. “How can you be so sure you won’t find me irresistible?” That was exactly the problem. I already found him irresistible, but I just couldn’t let myself go there.
