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“Are you going to kiss me?”
“You just threatened to shoot me if we broke up.”
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It’ll only be a flesh wound.” Never in a million years had she guessed she’d be able to mess with Jackson Haley like this. That he clearly loved being messed with was the biggest thrill.
He gave her the kind of look that could’ve steamed up his glasses. “A flesh wound.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m good with that.” He didn’t kiss her, and that should’ve been so frustrating, but whatever showed on her face made him laugh again.
Jack’s local was badly lit and a little shabby, and not in a chic way. It was the kind of place he could go without needing to worry he was going to be hit on, and the food was great. The sudden silence that hit during the meal was uncomfortable. Too soon to make assault jokes?
“What if this is some kind of accelerated learning process and we’re actually done?” she said, toying with her salad.
“Meaning?”
“It might’ve taken weeks, months to get through all the questions. We did it in a couple of hours all put together.” And then they had each other forty-two different ways to the moon and back. “What if we’re already over each other?”
“Because we’ve been quiet for the length of time it takes to eat a steak?” he said, putting his knife and fork down in the proper order on his empty plate. She hadn’t been able to finish everything on hers. Typical taking on more than she could chew. “I don’t think we’re done.”
“When was your last actual long-term relationship?”
“That’s a question I’m glad you didn’t ask before I introduced you to my clean sheets.”
Uh-oh.
“College.”
“That’s—”
“A long time ago. Casual is the new black, but I don’t want to be casual with you. I’m not saying that’s going to be easy. My experience with devotion is woefully limited.”
Never be the first to break a barrier. Those that come second get it easier. She was sure she’d read that somewhere. “But Martha loves you.”
“Martha loves anyone who feeds her.”
“Some people have no respect.”
He leaned toward her, his hand on her knee under the table. “Come home and let me disrespect you some more.”
It was a date, but she had a call to make first. She sat on Jack’s sofa with FaceTime open while he worked at his desk, sorting through email and clicking through the key headlines of rival media.
“Mom, hi.”
“Hi, baby. You look pretty tonight.” Must be the post-orgasmic glow, because she was windblown and a little chafed. “Where are you?”
“I’m at a friend’s place. How is everyone?”
Mom made a silly face on the word friend and then updated her on the drama with the Denvers’s haunted barn and Eli Varga’s twins, but Derelie’s attention was on Jack. She wanted to swing her handset around so Mom could see him, barefoot with Martha asleep on his lap, his attention on the messages flying at him on his screen. She wanted to say, I met this guy at work and we didn’t like each other at first, but oh, Mom, he’s the greatest and he doesn’t even know how great he is and I’m so happy we found each other and I’m so scared it’s not real, and if it’s not real it’s going to break my heart and I don’t know what to do about that.
But she didn’t say any of that. She didn’t mention Jack at all.
On her tiny screen Mom was walking. “You want to see Ernie? Here he is.” And there was Ernest, head on his paws, sprawled on the kitchen floor waiting for his bowl to be filled.
“Ernie! Hello, my boy. How’s my big boy? Have you been a good dog?”
Mom’s face reappeared. “He’s been digging holes in the strawberry patch again.”
“Ernest.” The screen showed Ernest now had his eyes closed.
Mom said, “He knows it’s you, honey. He’s just distracted. He was wagging his tail a moment ago.”
