First
I can only imagine how well that must have gone for my poor friend. Fortunately, Dallas has always had my back. ‘Yeah, he’s a jerk like that.’
‘You’ll be here soon?’
I’m almost downtown. It’s going to be a bitch to find parking, but Cat loves eating at Clean Your Plate. It’s a mom-and-pop place with a set menu of simple, good food. Their brunch is the best, with buttermilk pancakes, perfectly crisped hash browns, and whatever kind of meat you want for your side. Dad liked it so much it became our family’s weekend breakfast stop. Even my mom grew to enjoy that tradition. Today’s the kind of day they should be around to celebrate with us …
I drag myself out of those memories. There’s
no way I’m going back to that place. ‘Five minutes or less.’
‘Hooray! See you soon!’
An open parking space waits for me about a block away. I lock up the truck and start my trek. Spring’s finally arriving. A light breeze carries the scent of the ocean and the sun’s rays fall warm on my skin. Maybe this year I’ll finally get off my ass and try surfing with the guys from the station. It’s been years since I’ve been out on the waves.
I’m reaching for the café’s door handle when a pair of red shoes step into range of my lowered gaze. A warm hand brushes mine and there’s a mumbled apology as we both jerk back. The skin of my hand tingles and a sense of foreboding hits. I raise my eyes.
Familiar brown eyes hold mine.
‘Really?’ Maya complains at the same moment I mutter, ‘Dammit.’
We stay there, frozen at the door, eyeing each other. There’s no reason to ask why we’re both here. This has all the earmarks of my sister’s plotting. Maya crosses her arms over her chest and shifts her weight back.
The move pushes out her breasts. I should try to help it, but I know her body now. My eyes drift from her chest to the tantalising curve of her hips, mostly hidden by the cut of her bright sundress. Her long legs stretch for miles, enhanced by her high heels.
My mouth goes dry from the memory of those legs tightening around me when she screamed out my name—
‘You done?’ Her tone is caustic, but some sick part of me likes it. Likes knowing I got under her skin.
Too bad for her righteous indignation that she’s staring at my dick when she says it.
I manage a smirk, hoping it hides my awkwardness. ‘I am if you are.’
She flicks her eyes up. ‘Are you going to be like this the entire meal? Because if you are, I think I may just take off now.’ She turns.
‘Hey.’ I reach out, snagging hold of her wrist. She spins back and I’m not sure who’s more surprised by my move. ‘I’m not trying to piss you off, okay?’
She doesn’t struggle. Doesn’t even move. Holding her seems wrong, so I drop my hand and stuff it in my pocket.
I take a breath and say, ‘Look, I get that this sucks, but we can make it work. I want to make it work.’
Her stance relaxes a bit and she throws a quick look at the door, as if she’s worried Cat will jump out from behind the door and discover us. ‘I guess so. I mean, we can’t disappoint her.’
I nod. ‘Truce?’
She tosses her head as she inspects me for deception. Her thick, tightly-curled hair bounces from the movement and the sunlight glitters over the rich chocolate strands. I guess whatever she sees meets her standards because she finally nods and agrees, ‘Truce.’
I pull open the door and let her lead the way inside, focusing on anything but the sway of her hips. It’s one meal. If I’ve survived the last eight years by controlling myself, I can survive this too.
***
Doctor Blathe’s words haunt me while I step into the café. It’s okay to feel uncomfortable around people like Jake, who prefer an ordered existence, but avoiding them too often will negatively impact the life you’ve chosen to lead. There has to be a balance, Maya.
I blow out the air that wants to stay trapped in my lungs. I thought about telling her I chose to become an actress because the bohemian life I’ll probably lead lends itself to avoidance behaviours I’ve spent most of my life using. That would have led to a much longer session though. An awkward session that would make me feel even more off-kilter than I do now.
Like the sight of Jake standing there in worn jeans and a tightly fitting shirt with his station’s logo didn’t already do that.
Until his fingers had wrapped around my wrist, I’d been able to keep up the charade that he was nothing more than a big mistake. But that simple touch sent my mind back to my bed and I couldn’t do anything. No freaking self-preservation instincts at all.
He’s a few steps behind me and I can feel his eyes on me. I should get pissed at that, should tell him to stop checking out my ass, which I’m sure he’s doing. The problem is I like it. I actually like having him react to me …