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“I just said it seemed unlikely, okay? But I didn’t say it was impossible.”
“I know you.” I rocked back on the balls of my feet and struggled to keep my tone level. Even after the better part of two years, she still didn’t grasp how well I understood her and her reactions. At least most of the time. Sure, sometimes she threw me for a loop, but I’d made a damn good study of her since she’d been with the band.
Chump.
“Yeah, and you’re assuming I’m reluctant to accuse him because I’m, what, still carrying a torch for the guy?”
“You tell me.”
She shook my hand free and crossed her arms. “Hardly. I wanted to jump Noah a few months ago, so obviously, I’m not still hung up on Pat.”
A couple of parts of that sentence struck me at once.
Wanted—past tense.
Not still hung up on Pat.
And most of all, that she’d finally admitted she had a thing for Noah. Which scorched a path through my chest like whiskey, leaving behind fiery ash and regret.
It should have been me. I should have been the one who nudged her beyond her feelings for that asshole in her past. Instead, it had been her lustful fantasies over Jordan.
Anyone but him.
I mirrored her crossed arms. “Past tense?” I needed to know. Had to hear her say it again.
She blinked. “What?”
“How you felt about Jordan.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She scrunched a handful of her curls. They sprang beautifully into place, framing her heart-shaped face. “Honestly, it wasn’t so much feelings as I just wanted to bang him.”
So, the second time hearing that theoretically should’ve felt less like a scapula carving out my heart before serving it to Hannibal Lecter. And yet, no.
“You never went for it?”
“Uh, you’re at my house all the time. Did you ever see him there?” When I didn’t answer—because there was a rock in my throat—she shook her head. “I mean, he’s a good guy, but it’s not like that with him. It was a thing, then it wasn’t. He never saw me as anything other than furniture anyway.”
“How could he not?”
She stopped scrunching long enough to arch a brow. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve been labeled cute as a button all my life, and some guys aren’t into adorable?” She wrinkled her nose. “Like kittens and bunnies and redheads with a ton of freckles and braces.”
“You don’t have braces anymore.”
“Thank God.”
“You’re beautiful and funny and smart. And smart-assed.” To save the moment from being weird, I reached out to yank on one of her bouncy curls. “What’s not to like?”
“I’ll remind you of that when my snoring keeps you awake.”
Thinking about us sleeping within the same four walls sent my mind spinning into a place it definitely should not go. “It didn’t this morning.”
“You were down the hall. I was just getting started.”
“Oh, it gets worse, huh?”
“Yeah. Especially when my allergies are acting up or I’m overtired.”
“After a night of that wine-soaked sex you mentioned earlier.” This time, when I touched her hair, the backs of my fingers brushed her cheek. Her throat bobbed, and I knew I should move back.
