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I squeeze her waist in that perfect little indent above her hip, riding the moment because I’m not stupid enough to believe her being this close will last past Gretch’s exit.
Face flushed, Jess inches her elbow toward my gut, but I tug her to my chest, killing her leverage.
Gretchen gives Jess a sticky-sweet smile, then turns to me. “Your mom and I had an exclusive set up. She didn’t show.”
Tension strums off me like a badly played guitar riff. “She’s on vacation.”
Her smile turns vulture. “I’ve left multiple messages.”
Is Gretch fishing or does she know something? Almost on its own, my hand fists in the bottom of Jess’s sweatshirt.
She must feel my stress—that’s the only way I can explain the hand she tentatively wraps over mine that offers support no one knows I need.
“She’s got a new guy, Gretch. You know how she gets.” Forcing my free hand steady, I grab the cup Jess brought me and take a sip, almost choking on the bitter coffee. I taste what’s in her cup next. Mint tea. Better. “How about I give you an exclusive before I fly back to North Carolina?” Or wherever the hell I end up. “I’m in the middle of a date.”
“Five in the morning seems more like the end of one of your kinds of dates, not the middle.”
Jess—who’d make a perfect poster child for the anti-one-night-stand—flinches in my arms.
“Just starting early.” I lift my cup toward Gretch. “Couples who caffeinate together stay together.”
She stands like she’s got rebar shoved up her ass. “Text me before you leave.” Bag slung over her shoulder, she meets my gaze and holds it in some weird power play she’s going to lose. “Tell Meredith I’m trying to get in touch.”
I plaster on my most sincere fake smile. “Will do.”
Finally, she walks out the revolving doors.
Sighing, I duck my head against Jess’s neck and breathe in her addicting spring smell. A few stray waves have come loose from the knot in her hair. They brush against my nose, tempting me to press my lips to her soft skin.
The instant my mouth touches her, Jess scrambles around the table by Gretchen’s empty chair. “Gabe.”
“You called me Gabe.”
“Don’t read anything into it.” She grips Gretch’s abandoned chair. “Not when I help you and then you maul me.”
“I’m showing gratitude.” I kick my feet under the table and put my hands behind my head. “You don’t want me to be thankful?”
“I want you to keep your hands to yourself.” The sound she makes next is definitely a huff.
She’s cute when she huffs. Grinning, I brush my shoe against her bare toe. She’s wearing different colored flip-flops and her big toes are painted purple with white butterflies. “Couldn’t resist theHello Kittypants. Super sexy.”
She stretches her sweatshirt halfway down her thighs like she’s trying to cover bare skin.
I gesture to the chair. “Sit? For a second?”
She slides onto the chair and touches the lid on her tea where I’ve taken a sip. “Please tell me I’m not going to get a disease if I drink this.”
“I’m clean. Promise. Most of my make-out sessions are flanked by a crew of forty people, multiple cameras, and my director who likes to yell—Gabe, move your effing chin!And there’s no tongue.”
Instead of laughing, Jess wipes the lid with the sleeve of her sweatshirt before she takes a sip.
“Lately, I haven’t kissed anyone but you,” I add.
Color rises in her cheeks, and she chokes, spitting tea all over the table.
“Classy.” I pull a napkin from the dispenser and hand it to her.
“Do you live to humiliate me?” She wipes her mouth and chin, then the table.
