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“Well, I’m not pregnant.”
He rakes his gaze over me. “No, but you are pretty.”
When he drags his eyes back to my face, they’re heartbreakingly sincere.
Heat bursts over my skin. “Thank you.” My legs wobble. I’ve been fine in my heels all day. Why are they now a problem?
Jigsaw frowns again. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you eaten anything today?”
“Just one of the brownies the guy who helped us park handed out…Sparky?”
“Nooo.” Jigsaw squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck.”
“What? He was very nice.”
“Come here.” He clasps my elbow and steers me toward a small, round picnic bench set up under an old maple tree, even farther away from the guests.
“Their yard is so pretty.” I carefully slip my leg over the bench and sit as ladylike as possible, tucking my full skirt around my legs. “It’s like they have their own park or something.”
“Teller’s a country boy. He’s always doing one project or another around here.” Jigsaw settles onto the bench next to me. “Sometimes he ropes us into helping.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“Not that nice. I don’t do it often.” He laughs. “Rooster keeps me busy enough at his place.”
“You live together?” I gasp and lean in, lowering my voice. “Are you a couple?”
He scowls. “Couple of what? Bikers? Friends since elementary school? Yes and yes.”
“Sorry, that was rude.” I press my hand to my forehead. “I feel so fuzzy.”
“When’d you eat that brownie?”
I shrug. “I dunno. During the ceremony. After.”
“Shit,” he mutters.
“What.”
“You said you don’t drink.” His lips quirk into a teasing grin. “I’m guessing you don’t indulge in the devil’s lettuce, either?”
I lean in closer. “You mean smoke weed?” I half whisper, half gasp. “Never.”
“Satan’s balls.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Seriously?”
The pieces of whatever puzzle he’s offering aren’t clicking into place fast enough for me.
“You ate a pot brownie, Margot.” He lifts an eyebrow. “You’re going to be flying high for a while.”
Horror and indignation battle inside me, but indignation wins. “Don’t give me the eyebrow raise of judgment.” I lift my head in a haughty manner. “I didn’t know the brownie was laced with,” I pause and cast a shifty gaze from side to side. “Laced with pot,” I finish in a hushed whisper.
Jigsaw chokes, then snorts with laughter. “Eyebrow raise of judgment?” He raises his eyebrows higher.
Oh God. No. What if he thinks I’m making fun of his scar? “I didn’t mean…” Now I’m fixated on the faint jagged line running across his forehead through his eyebrow. Did he get in an accident? A fight? I can’t ask. That’s rude.
He doesn’t seem to notice my inappropriate staring. “It’ll take a bit to fully kick in and it’s gonna last for a few hours.” His voice is nothing but sympathy and concern. Not a trace of contempt for how dumb I am for eating something a stranger gave me.
Hot tears sting my eyeballs. “My father will kill me if I embarrass him here.”
