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“Really? You’re just going to let that keep going on and on?”
I shrug. I know it’s my sisters, and I can read through them later. Important issues get phone calls. The fact that’s bothering him—it’s just icing on the cake I would like to have for breakfast. I wonder if the diner has cake ready for the day.
His eye starts to twitch, and I smile. I hope it’s the one that Fritz calls my villain smile. He says when I smile like that, people should know they are fucked.
“You know you don’t scare me with that smile.”
“Hmm,” is all I say to that.
“How can you just let the texts keep coming and not answer them?”
I shrug. “I learned how to put the brakes on being connected to my phone all the time. It’s a hazard in my industry.”
This comment catches his attention, and his eyes focus on me once more. God, I am going to have dreams about those eyes.
“You have an industry?”
“Yes.”
“You call teaching people how to post on social media an industry?”
Disdain drips from every word. “You create apps for a living.”
“I’ve created a few, but my primary focus is security. People spend too much time on social media.”
“I agree with you to an extent. That’s why I have no problem ignoring texts. But I do have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Don’t you find it hypocritical to develop apps and have such hatred for social media?”
“First, I don’t have hatred for social media. I just think that time away from apps is a good thing.”
I agree, but I refuse to let him know that I do. Truth is, I teach my folks that social media might be essential to build their brand, but you can’t make it your entire life. Stepping away from time to time is necessary.
“Don’t you date models? They basically spend their entire lives online these days.”
His mouth straightens into a thin line. Oh, I hit a nerve.
“I didn’t say that I…wait, we were arguing about your job.”
“Were we?”
And just like last night, he gets that grumpy look. And oh, fuck me, it’s hot. Maybe Liv wasn’t wrong about me wanting to jump his bones. Ugh. Smoldering is no good. I can’t have him sit in a t-shirt and jeans—old, conform to his ass kind of jeans—and look at me like that. I will do something foolish.
“I have to get ready.”
I put Meredith down, grab my coffee, and rush out of the room. I can’t be having thoughts about Jon Howard. I mean, okay, thoughts are okay. I have thoughts about Travis Fillmore, but I would never jump his bones. First, I don’t poach. Second, he doesn’t even know I exist past being a friend. Third, Nancy is scary AF.
I get to the top of the stairs a little out of breath because I practically ran up them and decide to go out for breakfast. I’m volunteering at the senior center today. Hopefully, they will distract me from this insane need to lick Jon’s chest.
Dammit, now that I had that thought, it’s all I can think about.
“I’m fucked.”
“Meow,” Meredith says from my bed. I glance over at her.
“Exactly.”
