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“Here.” Jesse takes my hand and helps me insert the key into the lock, his grip firm. “Got it?”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“Just trying to help my fiancée.”
“Fake fiancée,” I say, smiling at him. “Don’t get it twisted, Taylor.”
“As if you’d let me.” Jesse puts out a palm, gesturing for me to wait, then goes upstairs to look around. He comes back down a minute later. “It’s clear. Lock that door behind you, though.”
I roll my eyes at the instruction but do it anyway. My apartment feels too small with him in it. Granted, it’s small without him in it too. The living room and kitchenette are open-plan, and I’ve got a single bathroom and my bedroom down the hall. A lot of my stuff is worn. I’ve poured my money into the diner, not my home, and my old leather sofa is a relic from my dad.
Jesse moves through my living room with his typical swagger, stopping beside my bookcase. He removes a romancenovel from it and flips it over, reading the back, his eyebrows climbing.
“Don’t you have better places to be?” I ask. “If the coast is clear, you can leave me here, right?”
“Nope,” he says, setting the book down carefully. “We have a deal, and protecting you is part of that. Besides, I’ve already fed Mr. Skitters.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Jesse unbuttons the top of his shirt, exposing a sliver of chest and dark hair.
“Mr. Skitters. My cat.”
“You. You have a cat?”
“Do you think I’m actually the devil?” he asks. “Why the surprise?”
“You don’t strike me as a cat lover. I thought you’d keep snakes. Or white rabbits. Like an evil mastermind.”
He chuckles. “Nah. I like cats. But Mr. Skitters isn’t technically my cat. He’s a stray cat that I’m trying to make into my cat. It’s been a journey.” He lifts his hand and shows off a scratch. “But we’re getting closer. I’m hoping he adopts me soon.”
Damn you for being nice to a stray cat.
“That’s…”
“Do you like cats?”
“Yeah.”
Jesse sweeps his gaze over me from head to toe.
“We’re going to have to get to know each other if we want to make this look real,” he says. “Likes, dislikes, goals, dreams, that kind of shit.”
I clasp my hands together, the ring an ever-present reminder of what we’ve done.
“How romantic.”
He gives me one of those panty-melting grins that’s probably worked on every woman in this town. I try to resist his natural charm, but it’s difficult. And that frustrates me.
Jesse strolls to the sofa and drops onto it, smiling up at me.
“The picnic this weekend is going to be interesting if you can’t stop hating me.”
“I played the part today, didn’t I?”
Even though he jerked away from me when we kissed.
“Hmm.”
