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And I believe him. Even though he’s still my enemy. Even though he drives me crazy. I believe him.
Thirteen
JESSE
I can’t sayI thought I would propose. To anyone. Let alone Marci Walsh.
But now that it’s about to happen, I’m nervous. My palms are clammy, for fuck’s sake, and it feels like I’m about to step off a cliff into nothingness. I pull up outside the diner and find Marci behind the counter, smiling and laughing with one of her customers, and the feeling leaves.
That smile wipes it away.
I get out of the squad and go inside, stopping short of the counter.
“Ready to go, Angel?”
Marci’s gaze snaps to my face. There’s a heartbeat where I’m sure she’s going to hit me with one of her infamousTaylorone-liners in front of her customers.
“Angel?” Todd, who’s practically a fixture in the diner, scratches the lines on his weathered forehead. “When did that happen?”
Marci takes a deep breath, forces a tight smile, and strips off her apron.
“I was born ready, Taylor.”
She circles the counter.
I grasp her hand and spin her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Taylor? Is that what you call your boyfriend?”
Marci trembles in my arms and then stills.
“What else would I call you?”
“Baby? Honey? Sweet cheeks?”
“Sweet cheeks?”
She pulls back, her lips falling into a bemused smile.
“I mean, have you seen this ass? It won’t quit.”
Marci pinches my arm, and I release her, grinning to myself. She’s hot under the collar, and I love it. She calls out to her server, Rebecca, who gives her a thumbs up. We head out, and I open the door to my squad.
Again, she freezes. Pales. Swallows.
“We can take your car,” I say.
“No. I’m good.” She gets in, and I shut the door and circle to the driver’s side. “Does my car smell?” I scratch my brow. “I pride myself on being pine-fresh.”
“You don’t smell like pine,” she says.
“Oh? What do I smell like?”
“The devil. Spice and cinnamon.”
“You left out the sulfur.”
“Uh huh.”
