Page 17 of He Loves Me Lots


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I replay the whole day so far over and over in my mind, absent-mindedly finding myself plucking a few petals from the bunch of flowers that I’m gripping as hard as I want to hold Jasmine.

Remembering that thing some people do. Mostly in cheesy movies or books. Surely nobody actually does it, least of all a two-hundred-and-twenty-pound slab of man.

But I can’t help it.

It’s the one thing burning my brain as well as my balls right now.

I’m not kidding when I say I need to know and fast.

She loves me. She loves me not.

She loves me. She loves me…

“You look like a man who could use this,” a friendly but cautious voice says, popping the thought bubble in my mind. A steaming mug of hot cocoa slides in front of me.

My eyes drift left, and I could swear it was my Aunt Rose for a split second, but no, just another friendly-looking old lady. I’m guessing she’s the coffee shop owner. Aunt Rose passed about ten years ago, so it’s been that long since I had the luxury of a wise, older person listen to me ramble on.

I hear caution in her voice because it just makes sense to be wary of a big, wet man in your store gripping a bunch of flowers and plucking at ’em.

“Thanks,” I murmur, scalding my mouth a little, but it’s the first thing to pass my lips since God only knows.

The old lady hovers, studying me, only speaking when I shoot her a look that asks if there’s anything else. I’m good with the cocoa if that’s what she’s worried about.

“Well?” she asks with a little grin, lifting her hands to her hips and cocking a brow. “Does she, or doesn’t she?” she asks.

“I’m not sure…,” I start to reply, suddenly stopping once I wonder how the hell she’d know what I’m thinking. How come Jasmine can’t see for herself what I’m thinking if my mind’s so easy to read.

My Aunt Rose always said the most when she hardly said anything. Whoever this old lady is, she reminds me of her so much. I feel a pang of guilt for not thinking of her more often.

“Some things take time,” she murmurs, leaning in a little, at ease with me now. It’s as if she’s telling me a secret. The smell of baked cookies and warm milk coming off her make me feel like I’m five years old all over again.

“If she loves you, you can bet your bottom dollar that whoever she is, she’s feeling just as crazy as you right now.”

Creasing a smile, she pats my hand. Disappearing through the little curtain that leads out back, I half wonder if I haven’t just seen a ghost.

But I know she’s right.

And Jasmine sure acted weird when I asked for flowers, but I wouldn’t say she was down on all fours, barking crazy like I’ve been since yesterday. I definitely picked up her vibes.

But until I hear it from her own mouth, I don’t want to speculate. That’s the attorney in me.

The professional man in me wants to speculate. Calculate.

The beast in me wants to procreate. Ejaculate. Inseminate.

Mate for life. With Jasmine. The one.

And soon.

CHAPTERSEVEN

Jasmine

Okay. So maybe I am nuts after all.

The man of my dreams comes into my store twice in one day, and I still don’t know how to feel about it.

Is he crazy, or just driving me crazy?

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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