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“Yourmum?” He almost dropped the second slice of French toast, his eyes wide. “Debra said she was your older sister!”
“You actually believed her? I can’t believe she just let you into my real sister’s house. Oh my God!”
He threw back his head and groaned. I tried not to think about how much I liked that sound.
“To be fair, I was very busy catching you from hitting the pavement rather than judging if your sister was old enough to be your mother.” He sighed, pulling at Cody’s tee. “Would you prefer I didn’t wear this? Debra did say I could have it.”
Cody was broad across the shoulders, and somehow, Jet managed to stretch the tee shirt further. I licked my lips, contemplating the idea of having Shirtless Jet serve me breakfast, then shook my head.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” I gulped down several mouthfuls of water. “I am totally going to kill her and bury her in this yard. Turn her into compost for the veggie patch!”
“You take hangry to a whole new murdery vibe, Ari.” He held up a plate of French toast. “Whereas, I’m going to deal with the mortification of someone’s mum letting her drunk daughter go home with a random dude by eating this excellent breakfast.”
Jet sprinkled parsley on my French toast. He’d even cut up some tomatoes to go with it. He smiled sheepishly, holding a plate right under my nose. “Care to join me?”
I groaned. “You sprinkled cheese on one side and fried it?”
“Of course.” He smirked, his voice low again.
It was a known fact that if anyone wanted to kidnap me, all they’d need to do was leave a trail of cheese and I’d follow the trail all the way to the kidnapper’s lair.
I followed Jet as if under a spell to the kitchen table, where his leather jacket was draped over a chair. I sat beside him, and we ate in silence.
Jet finished first and placed something on the table between us. “Does your name have a special meaning? If so, what is it?”
I gave him the side eye, my mouth full of breakfast. “Um, what?”
He’d placed one of my mother’s speed dating card packs on the table, with one flipped over:What’s the meaning behind your name?
“You stole a pack of cards from last night?”
“Oh, shit.” Jet’s face had turned ashen as if he had committed grand theft auto.
I grabbed his hand. “Wait.” I swallowed the last bite of French toast, trying to ignore the zing of electricity up my arm from touching him. “It’s okay. Keep them.”
Jet inhaled through his nostrils, completely still.
“So, what kind of name is Jet?” I removed my hand and, after a beat, he laughed, a full belly laugh, wiping his eyes.
“It’s short for Jethro.” His cheeks pinked.
Something from my childhood watching reruns on regional TV stations came to mind. “Oh yeah, Jethro Cummings. Were you named after the Beverley Hillbillies character Jethro?”
“Ha, no. I’m named after Jethro Tull, the band.”
I blinked with a shrug.
“They were kind of a big deal in the seventies and later. My parents were huge fans but had to settle for tribute band nights because Jethro Tull didn’t tour Australia after their 1974 tour. They love to tease me that I was conceived during one of the tribute band concerts.”
“Oh. My. God.”
“I know, right?” His cheeks were pink again. He gave the speed dating card the stink eye. “These cards have some kind of voodoo. Not even sure why I said that.”
“But it’s true?”
“Yeah. I’m Jethro, and my younger brother is Tully.”
“That’s sort of sweet. It’s a thing for some people to name people after where they were conceived.”
