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“I beg to differ.” I hold her close until we get to the guesthouse, then pull away to unlock the door. “I stared at perfection for a couple years before I worked up the courage to tell you how I felt.”
Jen bites her lip, staring at me as if she can’t decide whether or not I’m telling the truth. When I push open the door for her to step through, she relents and walks inside. Her eyes dart around the room, landing on her perfectly organized shelves.
She’s thinking about the other day, when her clothes were mussed. When she thought someone had been in here.
Then Jen shakes her head and turns to me. “I’m getting paranoid. I need to get a grip.” She puts a hand to her head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have had all that whiskey.”
“If you start blaming the whiskey for what we just did, I’m not going to be a very happy camper.”
Her eyes glimmer, a smile tugging at her lips. “Temporary insanity.”
“Well, let’s work on making it permanent.”
She laughs, then jerks her head to the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed.”
When she comes out again, Jen crosses to the cot where I’m sitting and slides her hand through my hair. I pull her between my spread knees, wrapping my hands around her thighs.
“Bathroom’s all yours,” she says. “And when you’re done, we can see if I’m still insane.”
Grinning, I close my eyes as she gently massages my scalp. “God, I hope so.”
Chuckling, Jen pulls away and I head to the bathroom. As I brush my teeth, I look at her electric toothbrush and perfectly organized toiletries, and I realize this feels better than anything else I’ve ever experienced. I like the intimacy of bedtime routines. I like that she teases me in that logical, rational way of hers. I like that we can share a space—and a bed.
If she’s insane, then I should be committed, because I wouldn’t change a damn thing about her.
But when I exit the bathroom, Jen is in bed, her eyes closed with her lashes fanned over her cheeks. My body still aches for her touch, but my heart softens at the sight of her steady breathing, her slight body curled up on top of the blankets.
Moving quietly, I check the door to make sure it’s locked, then slide under the blankets, flipping them up on top of her. She turns into me in her sleep, clutching a fist against my chest as she lets out a little feminine whimper, nuzzling closer to my body.
I stare at the ceiling, fingers sifting through her hair, amazed and grateful for everything that’s happened—and wondering when Jen will wake up and realize she’s too good for me.
CHAPTER 16
Jen
“Jen got screw-ed,” Candice says in a singsong voice when I enter the library above Four Cups the next morning.
Simone glances up from her seat on one of the plush couches, interest sparking in her eyes. “Oh, she did. Look at that face!”
“What’s wrong with my face?” I slap a palm to my cheek, frowning. “And no, I didn’t.”
It’s not totally a lie. Somehow, I fell asleep last night before Fallon and I could take things any further. This morning, he told me he had to go meet with his sister to talk to her. We drove to town together and I made a beeline for my home away from home—the café.
“How was it? Does Fallon have a huge dong? I bet he’s hung like a horse.” Simone leans her elbows on her knees, rapt eyes glued on me.
“What—no—I don’t know! It’s not—” I splutter, cupping my fingers around my cup of chai. “You guys are perverts. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Candice whistles. “Dorothy is going to love this.”
“Dorothy won’t know a damn thing!” I screech.
Simone throws her head back and laughs. “Now I see why everyone was enjoying watching me with Wes. This is a lot more fun when you’re on the other side.”
“Nothing is happening between me and Fallon,” I lie.
“Uh-huh.” Candice arches her brows. ”Keep telling yourself that.”
“Jen, your face is flushed and you have a bounce in your step. You’ve had at least one orgasm in the last twenty-four hours.” Simone leans back and crosses her legs before spreading her palms. “It’s science.”
