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I bet Joel knows what it means. Not that he’d tell me.
Lifting a batch of brand new romance books by Jennifer Armentrout, Jay Crownover and Sarina Bowen, Amy Jo Cousins and Garett Leigh, I place them lovingly on the shelf and straighten them, while thinking. Joel is so different from Jethro. Shoulders wider, jaw more square, gaze clearer and straightforward.
He’d started after Jethro who’d stormed away, asking what he was doing here, and I told him. He’d seemed surprised, but said it was good for Jethro.
He’s protective of his friend, too. I could hear it in his words, see it on his face.
And then he apologized for the other night, told me to go make sure Jethro was all right, and left.
Made me like him again. Like him more.
He put Jethro before himself. Made his friend a priority. How can you not love that? That a guy who looks like a cross between a quarterback and a male underwear model can be so concerned about his friend.
It makes my eyes burn suspiciously. Makes my heart beat more heavily.
I can’t let myself feel anything for Joel. It’s too soon. Too unrealistic. Sharing one hot kiss doesn’t mean anything.
And it doesn’t change the fact I’m still lusting after them both, and they have no clue.
Only Donna keeps throwing me narrowed-eyed looks, as if demanding to know what I’m playing at.
I wish I knew.
I doubt I’ll see Joel again. I also doubt Jethro will touch me again.
Shit.
Man, this really sucks…
***
But the bookstore door chimes the next day, and Joel enters, bearing coffee and donuts.
“Candy, I’m home!” he calls out, grinning a manic grin, and I can’t help but laugh. “How’s my nerdy girl today?”
Unexpectedly a lump forms in my throat. I am so frigging happy he’s back.
Stupid, I know. I barely know him. Barely like him. But he’s been with me—in my imagination, at least—for so long, the thought of losing him so soon hurt.
“Hey.” He puts down the coff
ees—an extra one for Jethro today, I notice—and puts his hands on my shoulders—warm, heavy. “I’m sorry, okay? Didn’t mean to get between you two.”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“You like Jet. So I’ll step down.” He’s looking earnestly into my eyes, and I’m sinking in blue. “Jet always tells me I’m an arrogant bastard. I want him… I need him to be happy. He deserves it. Just tell me you want him, too, and I’ll leave you in peace.”
Oh God. Oh my God. I can’t even. I can’t speak. The lump in my throat has grown so big it’s cutting off my breath. He’s sweeter than I thought. Selfless. How can I not fall for him all over again?
And what can I do now?
“Candy?” He searches my face with his eyes, then leans forward and brushes his mouth over mine. Scorching me, making me shiver from head to toe. His hands slide up my back to the back of my neck, cradling my head, crushing our mouths together. “Oh fuck,” he whispers against my mouth.
He slowly pulls away, his eyes dark like the night. His broad chest is rising and falling rapidly, and there’s a bulge at his crotch that’s very eye-catching. Prominent.
Not that I’m looking. Just saying. Besides, my glasses are fogging over. Not that I’m burning to fall into him, climb onto his lap and grind myself on his hard-on.
Maybe I should release my death-hold on his arms.
