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He takes me by the waist but moves around until my back is to his chest. Resting my head back, I close my eyes, savoring the stolen moment. He kisses my temple. “You don’t mind a little PDA in front of my mom, do you?”
When I catch her spying on us, she’s quick to busy herself. “I adore your mom, but I don’t need witnesses.”
Moving in front of me, he glances inside as if to check that the coast is clear and then back to me. “I told her about us.”
“What did she say?”
He chuckles. “I told you so.”
“And what exactly did she tell you, Jason?”
Leaning in, he rests his cheek against mine. “That my feelings aren’t one-sided,” he whispers.
“What are you feeling?”
“Everything. All at once. As if the world had dulled before you were back in my arms.”
Swooning’s a thing, right? Because I totally do it. “You say the most amazing things to me.”
“You’re amazing to me.” Sliding our hands to the side, he holds my waist with his other, and we start slow dancing even though there’s no music. “What’s with the bandage?”
“Just a little cut. Nothing to worry about.”
“It’s bleeding through. I’ll clean it for you.” He turns and closes the grill lid before we walk inside. “Mom, can you check on the fish?”
“Got it handled, but you’re not going to be too long, are you?”
He laughs, but I’m not amused. I swallow hard from what she must think we’re up to. “She thinks we’re going to have sex.”
“But you notice she didn’t stop us?”
I elbow him. “I don’t want her to think I would be disrespectful like that.”
“We’ll be gone five minutes. No respectful man can make love to his woman in that amount of time.” Angling over his shoulder, he calls out, “I’m going to clean Delilah’s cut. We’ll be right back.”
She doesn’t reply, but I’m laughing too hard to know for sure. I sit on the side of the tub while he digs under the sink. With a small first-aid kit, he sits on the toilet lid. “Let me see your finger.” He carefully unwraps the bandage. “How’d you do this? It’s pretty deep. Fortunately, you don’t need stitches, but it will leave a scar.”
“I have plenty of those already. Most you just can’t see.”
His eyes flash to mine momentarily, but he lets the comment slide. Shit. Shit. Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything. Cole’s earlier visit has knocked my thoughts off balance. I have to collect myself, especially around Jason. I look away to hide the truth from him.
When my finger is rewrapped with clean cotton and tape, he kisses it. “All better?”
I’m touched by the care he’s shown me. My heart’s beating a little faster, my chest a little heavier with happiness. When I finally gaze into the warmth of his eyes, I whisper, “All better.”
Rubbing the sides of my legs, he smiles. It’s gentle like his touch. “It’s okay. It’s just a bandage. I didn’t perform surgery.” I stand and lean my head against him. The unnerved fear I felt earlier has finally disappeared in the safety of his arms. “Hey, everything okay?”
“Yes. Now.”
He leans back and looks into my eyes. “Now?”
“It’s nothing. I’m just feeling sentimental is all.”
A reassuring smile returns to his lips. “Me too.” Kissing my forehead, he chuckles under his breath. “I also told my mom we were dating. I know we said we didn’t need to complicate things, but they’re complicated already, aren’t they?”
We hold hands between us, and I nod. “Very.”
So much more complicated than he knows.
Jason’s not usually very talkative, but tonight around the firepit, he is. He’s shared and demonstrated the repairs he’s made around the house, mentioned his trip to the hardware store, which I promptly steered him clear of since his mother doesn’t owe him an explanation regarding a certain you-know-who. And then he even talked about the motorcycle parked on the side of the garage. That one he guided us away from fairly fast after the topic was broached. He promised to take me for a ride on it soon, though. It’s a side of him I’m completely fascinated by, and I find it sexy as hell.
But then his mother, on her third glass of wine, asks him, “Are you staying?”
He glances over at me. “I’m thinking I might.”
My tongue curls around the front of my teeth as I hold back from revealing my feelings. Too soon, I remind myself. The trouble is, I can hide my feelings, but I can’t hide my smile. His mother giggles in drunken delight, and I finish my wine, feeling tipsy myself.
Changing the subject, something I’m learning he’s very skilled at doing, he asks, “Are we ready for dessert? I know I am.”
His mom says, “We’re skipping dessert tonight.” She looks at me conspiratorially as if we’ve just pulled off a big caper.
