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“Somethingwrong?”
“Whereis the damn rolling pin?”Iseethe into his back.
“Thisrolling pin?”Jacksonsays with a laugh, andIfeel the rolling pin press into my hand.
“Whatthe hell?”Leaningto the side,Ipeek around his arm.Thehalf-rolled out pizza crust is right there in front of him.Itotally could have reached if he wasn’t such a jackass, hiding the rolling pin from me.
“Wantto try the other way?”
“No,”Imutter against his back. “Thisis perfect.Thisis howIteach all my new bakers.”
“Hell, if it is.”Jackson’swords are a growl as he turns in my arms to face me. “Youbetter not have your arms around any other man like this, your tits rubbing all up against his back.”
“Whatabout my women bakers?”
Henarrows his eyes at me. “Iguess we can talk about that.”
“You’rean idiot.”
“I’myouridiot.”
Ireally, really wish he wasmyidiot.Andnot just for the next two weeks.
AfterJacksondecides the pizzas are done—at least five minutes afterItell him they’re done—he serves us each up a couple of slices on my mismatched vintage dinner plates.Hecuts the pizza too soon without letting it cool down, so it’s a saucy, cheesy mess, but every bite is delicious.
“Thisis good.Imake a mean pizza.IthinkIneed to get a pizza oven.Maybeput it out in the backyard.”
“Ithought you weren’t eating carbs for the next decade.”
“Somethings are worth a little extra time at the gym.Andthere’s other ways of getting my cardio in.”
WhenIroll my eyes at him, he flashes me his best big-screen smile.
“Whatwas it like growing up inRiverside?”
chapterseventy-two
selena
“Areyou seriously going to come back here before five o’clock in the morning to take me to work?”
“Ofcourse, baby.IsaidIwould.”
“Jackson, it’s almost eleven.Yourplace is forty-five minutes away.That’san hour and a half of driving.That’snot even giving yourself four hours of sleep.Juststay here.Andthen you can drop me off at the bakery in the morning, and you andOatscan head home.”
“Areyou sure?Idon’t want to invade your space.”
“It’sfine.Andyou invaded my space when you invited yourself over for dinner hours ago.”
“Whydon’t you takeOatsout for one last pee?I’msorry,Oatsie.Idon’t have a big backyard for you like your dad does.”ThenIturn from the cutest, fluffiest faceI’veever seen to the handsomest one. “I’mgoing up to get ready for bed.Youcan sleep… wherever.”
Irefuse to inviteJacksoninto my bed after sort of breaking up with him only the night before.Andafter he hasn’t made a move to do anything more than hold my hand or touch my lower back all freaking day.Rollingpizza dough with my arms around him and my breasts pressed hard against his back didn’t even lead to us having sex.Somethingweird is definitely going on here.Ijust don’t know what it is.
Myface is washed, my teeth brushed, andI’msafely in my pajamas under the covers of my queen-size bed whenIhearJackson’sheavy footsteps andOats’ nails on the old parquet wood floors downstairs.IhearJacksonlock the door, turn the deadbolt, and use the chain, and then check all of them again.
Ihold my breath whileIwait to see which way his heavy footsteps are going to go.Tothe living room and a night on the sofa?Orup the stairs to spend the night with me.Idon’t have a guest room, like he does.So, those are his only options.
ThesecondJacksonputs his foot on the first step, a flurry of nails start tapping on the stairs, and then eighty pounds of fur land on the bed on top of me.
