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My, how things have changed in just a couple hours, complements of his magical dick. I’m shameless.
“Give me about thirty,” I say as I head into the bathroom, grabbing the fresh bandages the butler left on the dresser as I pass.
Jake nods his assent as he stares out the window at the lake.
When I return, curled, painted, spritzed, and re-bandaged, I find him in the same spot. Did he even move? “Hey,” I say and sidle up to him, looking through the window with him.
He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer. “Hey.” He sounds pensive.
Now it’s my turn to ask him what he’s thinking. “What are we thinking about?”
A blow of air through his nose. “Too many things.”
“Like?”
“Like how I don’t want to leave this room.”
I chuckle at how in sync we are. “I know the feeling.” But I know he feels it more.
He finally looks down at me. And I know he likes what he sees, because his eyes flare a little as he smiles. I went with the red lipstick again…sans smudge up my cheek.
He did say it was one of his favorite colors.
“I know I already told you this, but it is nice to have someone right now that knows what’s coming. I don’t feel so alone in it.”
And it still feels strange to me that the person is me, the one writing the article. “The offer still stands,” I remind him. “If you want to know what’s in the article.”
He contemplates it for a long, hard minute.
He must not be ready. “Later, then?” I say softly.
“Yeah.” He leans down and pecks me on the forehead. I guess he still wants to live on cloud nine a little longer before we leave the safety of our room and head back to the lioness den.
I can’t blame him.
Five o’clock rolls around fasterthan we’d like, and as Jake bends down to slide on his boots, he looks up at me. “What do you think about staying another night?”
He really doesn’t want our bubble to pop. The real world lurks just outside those wrought iron gates like some greedy, salivating thing. Though, realistically, it’s just as scary to me in here.
“Another night?” I stall.
A grin. He adjusts his jeans over the boots and straightens. “There’s one more place I’d like to take you.”
“The last time you said that, we ended up doing it against a barn.”
He winks. “I got no complaints from you.”
True.
I kneel to search through my suitcase for my velvet sachet. I forgot earrings. And am subconsciously delaying the inevitable—sitting at the same table with Ruby and Magnolia. “Where?” He has my attention.
“The only other place in this town that has good memories for me.”
Second to his boulder. I find the sachet and fish out my cubic zirconium studs. I stand and wait for him to explain as I fasten them into my lobes.
“It’s called Southern Roots.”
“That a restaurant?”
