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He’s been an ass. Sort of. He’s been pushy. Kind of. He scares me.
But the uncertainty is back in his eyes, and now I know I didn’t imagine it. And although I’m not sure what to do with it, this glimpse beneath the sunny surface that defines Jesse Lee, I wish… I wish I could. I wish I had the courage to prod and break the brittle skin, the scab over a wound I can only guess at.
“I haven’t seen it,” I say, and his jaw tightens. Wow, this bracelet really seems important to him. “But I’ll look around. We’re still cleaning after the party from hell.”
“Thanks.” His mouth quirks. He shifts back and leans against the wall, and I try hard not to notice how good he looks in a faded green T-shirt and low-slung jeans, not to stare at the bulge between his legs.
Oh God, I’m checking out his package. Crap, no way. I have to stop.
“So…” He shifts, and damn if my eyes don’t drop again to his crotch. “Why did you hate the party so much?”
“I didn’t hate it.”
“Liar.” He’s grinning. His mouth is made for it, I think, so wide and sensuous. Sexy. Kissable.
Oh no. You don’t go there, girl. Enough of this.
I perch on the couch and bite my lip, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. “The party was fine. The problem is me. I’m not sociable and outgoing, if you haven’t noticed. I’m working on it.”
There. See if he doesn’t run from me now. The antisocial freak nobody would want to hang out with.
“Working on it?”
I shake my head. Maybe this was a bad idea, too, because I don’t want to explain. Counter-attack it is. “What’s the story of your wrist band?”
“There is no story.”
I lean forward. “Now who’s the liar?”
He grimaces, a twist of his lips, morphing immediately back into a smile. It always returns, that smile. A default setting.
Like my glare.
“I need to get to work,” he says instead of an answer to my question—and accusation—and I slump on the couch.
What did I expect, that after three minutes of conversation he’d open his heart to me? That we’d be best buddies?
Come on, Amber. Just goes to show how little you understand people. Besides, it’s not like you opened up, so why would he?
But as he turns to go, a long-fingered hand already gripping the door handle, he hesitates. Those broad shoulders tense, a ripple going through his back.
“The leather band…” He draws a long breath, lets it out. “It was given to me by someone who meant a lot to me, back when I was a kid. Later I lost her, and that’s all I have left of her.”
My heart falters, then starts again. A lump forms in my throat at the naked, raw pain in his voice. There’s so much I want to ask him, but he opens the door, steps out.
“Hey.” I hop off the couch and start after him. “Wait.”
He turns, a brow lifting. “What is it?”
I shrug. “Sorry for calling you names… earlier.”
“You may regret saying that,” he mutters, but some of the tension leaches from his shoulders. He gives me another of those faint smiles that make my chest warm. “I deserve those names. I’m a pain in the ass.”
“I doubt that,” I mumble, wondering why I’m saying this. Ten minutes ago I would’ve agreed whole-heartedly. “You’re not that bad. Goodnight, JJ.”
His smile spreads, brightening his eyes. “Night, Embers.”
I cock my head at him as he leaves, trying to figure him out. It’s not until later when I realize I called him JJ again.
