Page 18 of Jesse

“I’m not really in the mood for ice cream,” I say.

He grins at me again. Oh. God. Why is he so damn hot? It’s not fair. “See, that’s the best part about ice cream. You don’t have to be in the mood for it. In fact, eating it when you’re not in the mood is the best part. Because it puts you in the mood.”

And then he does one of those little eyebrow waggles.

I squint at him. “Are you coming on to me?”

“What?”

“Was that innuendo?”

He frowns. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

I point to his forehead. “You waggled at me when you said ice cream puts you in the mood.”

“I didn’t waggle at you.”

I huff. “Dude, you totally did.”

“OK, whatever. If you say I did, then I did. But no. It wasn’t innuendo. Ice cream is like… that’s just what people eat when they’re stressed, ya know?”

I just stare at him.

“God, for a woman who paid ten million dollars for me, you sure are a tough crowd.”

“I know how much I paid for you,” I snap. “Stop reminding me.”

“OK,” he says, holding up a hand. “Would you like me to take you home? Should we just… end this?”

I huff. “I paid ten million dollars for you. I’m getting my date.”

He stares at me. No. He glares at me. “Then get your fucking ass out of my car and order a motherfucking ice cream.”

And then he gets out, not even waiting for me. Just gets out, slams the door, and walks up to the Tastee-Freez and gets in line.

“Rude,” I mumble.

There’s quite a line too. Everyone who lives in this village must be here tonight. They are mostly teenagers on dates, laughing and joking as they flirt with each other. A few families with small children. Lots of boys and girls in little baseball uniforms, so a local Little League game must’ve just ended. And a few old couples who sit quietly as they stare off at the traffic passing on the road and lick their ice cream cones like this is their regular Friday night.

Jesse has his hands in his tux pockets, just studying the menu. And every single female in this parking lot is looking at him with lust in their eyes.

He pays no attention to anyone. Why should he? He’s Jesse Boston.

I get out of the car and walk over to him.

He smiles at me. “I knew you couldn’t help yourself. What kind of cone do you like? Or do you prefer a sundae?”

“What?” I say. Because I maybe got a little lost in those blue eyes of his. Wow. I’d forgotten how mesmerizing they could be when they’re looking right at you. Like you are the only girl in the world.

“Jesus, Emma. What’s the deal here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so… off. Are you harboring some deep hatred for me or something? Did I say something that offended you? I didn’t mean to snap at you in the car, I’m just… frustrated with how this is going. I wasn’t expecting hostility.”

“I’m not hostile.”

“You so are. You want a refund?”