Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
reeve
The restaurant is slammed Thursday night, and lucky for me, Jade isn’t working.
I’ve pretty much written her off, but it hasn’t stopped me from thinking about that kiss we shared.
No way she felt nothing. Can one person have their mind slip completely from their control while the other one doesn’t feel jack shit on the opposite end of the kiss?
Don’t think so. Not me and Jade, anyway.
I keep remembering the way her body instantly melted into mine, like she couldn’t help herself.
Her mouth was so ready for me, her skin electric under my fingers.
It took everything I had not to let my hands drop below her neck and feel every inch of her.
And honestly? I think she would have let me. She wanted it as badly as I did.
Not that it matters because she’s made it clear she doesn’t want this going any further.
I gotta hand it to Jade and that zero-filter tirade she went on: She’s not afraid to be a bitch or say what’s on her mind.
I still can’t figure out whether she was being brutally honest or just being brutal, but I’ve been thinking about her accusation that I don’t know how to connect to women.
Up until the night we kissed, she was right.
And maybe it’s because I don’t even want to let my friends see my bad moods in case they think, To hell with him, but I think I respect Jade a little more after what she said.
And that’s why I’m all good if she never talks to me again. Insane attraction and respect for the same woman? Not in my playbook; not if I want to get into the NFL with my head on straight.
A wave of dread takes over at that thought.
I have to sit out the game this weekend due to my concussion, and that sucks.
In fact, there are only two worse things I can think of, and one of them is death.
I always loved that in football every game counts for so much, that getting so few games in a season means every second on the field matters.
But when you’re on the bench? All that good is flipped upside down.
My trainers say I’m healing well and that at this pace I’ll probably be cleared to play next week. But “cleared to play” doesn’t guarantee I’m starting—or getting off the bench, period. Not when I’m having a mediocre season and the other QB is having his best one.
After my shift, Jorge asks whether I want to grab a drink, and we make a plan to meet at a bar near my place after I head home and change.
I’m not totally in the mood to socialize, but Jorge’s easy to entertain with a few football war stories, and if Cash is at the bar, he’ll be glad to step in and brag when I get tired of it.
As I head out to my car, I see someone sitting on the hood. Tight body. Pink hair. Resting bitch face.
My pulse picks up speed, but it’s more annoyance than anything.
No one touches my car. And knowing Jade, she’s probably gone ahead and planted a bomb under the hood just to remind me never to kiss her again.
Still, when she slides off the car and the dress she’s wearing hikes up a couple of inches, I can’t help but imagine the car’s-eye view of her ass sliding across the smooth metal.
Once on the ground, she clasps her hands in front of her. “Hi,” she says looking almost demure.
“Hi,” I say shortly. Jade and demure don’t belong in the same paragraph, so I’m pretty sure this is a trap to get me within spitting distance before she hawks a loogie in my face and tells me all the ways I’m an asshole.
“How was work?”
“Busy.” I don’t let myself look at her as I move past to inspect the Bronco’s hood for scratches. “No offense, but I don’t like anyone touching my car.”
From the corner of my eye, I see her bristle, but she holds her sharp tongue and just says, “Sorry.”
I wait for more, but she only stands there looking uncomfortable.
She doesn’t have on all the eye shadow and cat eyeliner or whatever it’s called that she usually wears, and she looks damn good without it, but I’ll probably get smacked if I compliment her.
Besides, I shouldn’t care how good she looks.
She and I are never going to be a thing.
I reach past her for the door handle. “I’m out of here,” I say.
She doesn’t move out of the way. “Hold on.” She looks down at the ground, and then at me. “I’m sorry for how I acted the other night. What I said was really . . . crappy.”
I shrug it off, even if it does catch me off guard. “Whatever,” I say coolly. “I’m not too worried about it.”
When I make a move for my car again, she stops me with a hand on my chest, and I catch a whiff of the spicy scent she wears.
Why does that scent do things to me? “Well, I am. I didn’t mean what I said; not the most insulting parts, anyway.
” She looks at the ground and bites her lip.
“I wasn’t expecting that conversation between us.
I guess what you said hit close to home. ”
I want to reach for her. I don’t know what to make of this gentle, apologetic Jade, but it’s impossible to be mad at her. “You were hurting.” I shrug, playing it off. “It’s okay.”
She nods. “I guess I was. The idea of connecting with someone . . . I don’t know, it just scared me a little.”
“Yeah. You and I are more similar than either of us probably wants to admit.”
She looks at me, and I think I catch a little flicker of hope in her eyes.
“I didn’t get my heart broken or anything, but I’m definitely not looking for love.” Why am I even getting into this? “Anyway,” I say with a smile, trying to lighten the mood, “you’re not the first person to call me stupid.”
She frowns. “I’m so sorry. That really wasn’t cool. I didn’t mean it. If I ever did think of you that way, you’ve proven me wrong.” She looks at me, the light returning to her eyes. “Actually, I was going to ask if your offer to be my Spanish tutor still stands?”
I try to look stern. “I don’t know, Jade. I worry you just want me to teach you how to say ‘stupid fucking asshole’ in Spanish so next time you can insult me twice as hard.”
She laughs. “G-rated Spanish only, I promise.”
I should definitely say no. I don’t have spare time to tutor someone, and Jade and I are a bad idea.
A really bad idea. I’m asking for trouble every time we’re in the same room—forget what could happen if we’re alone.
But I do like trouble when it looks like Jade Kelly. “All right. Let’s give it a shot.”
“Cool.” She smiles. “Thanks.”
She starts heading for her car and I open the door to my Bronco, then stop to look back at her. “Hey, Jade? When you said you didn’t mean it, does that include the shit-talking you did about the kiss?”
She turns and looks thoughtful. I wonder whether she’s tasting the kiss on her lips right now like I am. “In the words of Shafer’s finest athlete,” she finally says, “it was a damn good kiss.”