Jack (The Family Simon 2)

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t know you were going to all this trouble or I would have helped.” Her eyes slid away from his, and Jack couldn’t let that one go.

“Save it, Donnie. We both know the kitchen isn’t your favorite place. If I remember correctly, you cooked me one meal. One meal the entire time we were together. Jesus, we both would have starved if it wasn’t for me.”

A smile broke open on her face, and she laughed that full-bodied laugh that he hadn’t realized he’d missed until just now.

“Oh my god. The bird. It was ah…Christmas?”

“Thanksgiving.”

“Right and I left the giblets and stuff inside the turkey.”

“You did.”

“Well, it’s not like there was instructions or anything. It wasn’t that—“

“Trust me. It was that bad. The turkey was undercooked and the mashed potatoes could have been used for glue. In fact, I’m sure I used the leftovers for that loose board on the back deck.”

She grabbed the extra wine glass he’d put out and poured herself some Malbec. Taking a sip, she leaned against the counter. “You ate them. In fact you told me they were the best mashed potatoes you’d ever had.”

“I lied.”

She twirled the wine in her glass, and his eyes zoned in on her long elegant fingers. Her nails were always short, but they were painted a soft pink.

“When you left to take a phone call, I emptied my plate onto yours.”

“That’s devious.” He would like to say he was shocked, but he wasn’t.

“Damn straight it was, but good lord, they were awful potatoes.”

Jack topped up his wine and took another sip. “Then why didn’t you just admit that they were the worst mashed potatoes ever made, and we could have gone out to dinner?”

“Because I don’t like to lose.”

He held her gaze for as long as she’d let him, and then her eyes slid away from his, her laughter fading to nothing.

“No,” he replied. “Neither do I.” Jack took another sip of wine and silence fell between the two of them.

“So this is nice.” Donovan said lightly, those long fingers trailing over the rim of her wineglass.

“What’s that?” Jack replied, eyes fixed on her bottom lip because at the moment, she was chewing on it and for some reason he found that incredibly hot.

“Us,” she said, turning to him.

Slowly his gaze moved up to her face, but her eyes were averted, the long lashes sweeping low. What was her angle? And why the hell was she suddenly being so nice?

“Us?”

“Getting along like this. Being friendly.”

“Darlin’, we’re far from being friendly,” he replied. “This right here is what polite looks like when adults want to make a potentially awkward situation bearable.”

“Right,” she murmured. “My bad. For a moment, I forgot about your day job. Being a politician, you’ve got the acting thing down pat.” The sarcasm. It was heavy which irritated the shit out of him. Just like that, the atmosphere went from light, flirty even, to dark and dangerous.

“That’s old, Donovan. You know me better than that.”

Something flashed in her eyes. “Maybe you should pay attention to some of the people you surround yourself with.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” He drained his glass and glared at her, not understanding the darkness in her tone or her need to attack.