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Her mouth was open in outrage, yet she couldn’t contain her laughter. “My brother thinks I lost my virginity with my horseback riding coach? He was like forty years old!”
Which didn’t seem that old at her current age. When she was fifteen, on the other hand…
“He said you wouldn’t tell him.”
“Because it’s none of his business! Why would I tell my brother something like that? Why would he even want to know?”
“To beat on the guy.”
Spoken like that was the most natural and obvious reason in the world.
“He doesn’t have to beat on every guy I get sexy with. If one of them hurts me, yes, but I have him on speed dial for that.”
“You ever called your brother to take care of a guy for you?” he asked but answered his own question. “No, you haven’t.”
“How do you know? Maybe I have.”
“Because I’m his wingman, Genny. It’s my job to have his back… and provide an alibi.”
“You two are ridiculous,” she said as her purse vibrated against her thigh. Her phone. Who would call at that hour? When she read ‘Steeple,’ she answered fast. “Steep—”
“You missed the Monday briefing,” he said in her ear. “Where the hell are you?”
“I missed the…” Scanning around, when did the diner get so busy? And the light from outside. They were… Was this the morning rush? “Oh my God, I’m sorry!”
“You alive?”
“Yes, I’m alive,” she said, grabbing Jagg’s arm to twist it around and look at his watch. Shit. She’d definitely missed the meeting. “I’ll be there A-SAP. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Steeple said.
The line died.
“I’m sorry, Jagg,” she said, sliding to the end of the booth. “I have to go. I’m super late for work. Guess it pays to be your own boss.”
No one called Jagg to chase him down… though that meant no one was keeping tabs on his movements either.
Opening her purse, she pulled out some bills, but Jagg was two steps ahead. He’d put money on the table and was standing up, his hand out toward her.
“I’ll give you a ride.”
Cheaper and faster.
“Thank you,” she said, taking his hand to hurry out into his car.
The morning rush was thinning. Late was very late. Sitting up all night in a crappy diner with an incredible man had been a welcome, if unexpected, diversion. Jagg was… She didn’t know what he was… or what she was to him. They were friends, more now than they had been yesterday.
When he pulled up outside her office building, she was tugging at the neckline of her dress.
“Here,” he said, reaching into a gym bag on the backseat. He produced a tee-shirt, which he offered her. “It’s clean.”
“I don’t care,” she said, putting it on, tying the end into a knot on her hip. “So long as I don’t have to go into work dressed for a night of streetwalking, I appreciate it.” She pulled the sleeve down one arm to expose her shoulder. Casual and obviously not her attire, but better than before. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
His attention slunk back to the windshield. Say goodbye and walk away. Just open the door and… She grabbed his shoulder to boost over and kiss his cheek. The smart thing would’ve been to walk away… Sometimes the smart thing was overrated.
As his head came around, she opened her door. Better to turn her back on his reaction than be told again to cool her jets.
