Chapter 14 #2
Jordan tapped her knee twice under the table—their signal, right on time. They’d tacked on a secret level to their game. A little something she liked to call tag me in coach!
She wanted to improve her on-camera performance in general, not just with him.
Exaggerated reactions were good. Calculated responses were better.
Whenever he gave the signal, a tap or a distraction, she knew her face was doing the most. He made an opening for her to one, fix it, and two, play the game.
“Dad said no business. That counts.” Although Jordan sounded mildly bored, he only ever looked at his sister with doting big brother eyes.
Lulie stuck her tongue out at him and laughed. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask if Eric could come visit for a few days?”
“No.” Amber speared an asparagus stalk with a concerning amount of enthusiasm. “This is the only time we’ll get to spend together as a family this year.”
“Eric is family.”
“You know we all love him, but no, he isn’t.”
“Then why does she get to be here? They’ve barely known each other for a month.”
Zinnia froze, her fork hovering in midair. “Really? In front of my vegan potato salad, Lulie?”
Jordan’s cough suspiciously sounded like a laugh. “Excuse me.”
“I’ve been with Eric for almost three years,” Lulie pointed out. “How does that not count for anything? At least you know our relationship isn’t fake.”
All the air was sucked out of the room in an instant.
Zinnia reacted so fast that she didn’t even feel the expression she was making until Jordan squeezed her knee.
Her face would truly be her downfall. How he was able to focus on the conversation, his own performance, and pay special attention to hers, all at the same time, was impressive as hell.
“Here we go,” Wylie muttered.
Amber put her fork down and wiped her mouth. “Zinnia is here because Jordan married her. She’s family now and you need to start acting like it. No more of this mean girl bullshit you’ve been doing.”
Zinnia shrank down in her seat. Sweet baby Jesus, this was not happening. The Zaffre hate train ran on a tight schedule. Amber never stood up for her.
Lulie reared back in her seat, starting at her mom as if she’d just been slapped. Or betrayed. “You can’t keep me from seeing him. I’ll leave.”
“You will not,” Amber said.
Damon sighed as he forcibly set his silverware down. “Just let the boy visit. It’s not gonna hurt anything.”
“See?” Lulie demanded. “Dad agrees with me.”
“I said no. Throw all the damn tantrums you want. I don’t care. Boyfriends are not family.”
Lulie’s face transformed into a blistering-hot thunderstorm. “I hate you.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“You won’t let me leave, he can’t come here, I might as well go full Juliet and fucking elope and die!”
“Lulie!”
“Sorry, Daddy.” She threw her napkin down and ran out of the room. “I hate it here!”
Amber’s furiously red neck and glacial blue eyes turned to Zinnia.
Post-brunch face-off, they’d had almost no contact with each other.
Clearly, that was for the best. Never had she ever felt anyone look at her with so much concentrated loathing that it raised every single hair on the back of her neck.
Alarm sirens blared in her head because Amber’s warning touched down faster than a tornado.
Her earlier defense was pure calculated offense. Or else had just been set into motion.
Lulie left an uncomfortable silence in her wake. Only Wylie continued eating, unbothered, as if this was nothing more than a regular Saturday night.
Zinnia accidentally caught his eye, and he winked.
In many ways, the Zaffres were normal. Expected their kids to do chores just like any other family and everything—at least while being filmed anyway. Zinnia’s and Jordan’s camera pods hovered around them as they cleaned in the kitchen.
“Lulie’s outburst seemed a little overdramatic,” she said while scraping the dinner plates over the food waste bin and stacking them by the dishwasher.
He was emptying the serving dishes into portioned to-go containers. The Zaffres also believed in leftovers, something she hadn’t expected. The crew were free to take whatever they wanted from the fridges and pantries as long as it wasn’t labeled.
“She just wants to see her boyfriend.” He gave her a sad look, the kind that said he knew exactly how his sister felt. “She’s only nineteen and has been through so much—she literally has stalkers. I think being with Eric helps her feel like a normal teenager. Cut her some slack, okay? Please?”
That explained why he didn’t say anything to defend their honor. He’d chosen compassion over fighting—a very Jordan thing to do and not at all what the network wanted from Alfie. He knew their show, inside and out, but she suspected they didn’t know him at all.
Zinnia stacked the last plate and leaned against the counter while watching him. She was beginning to think she’d never see Jordan in anything that wasn’t black and long-sleeved. Even his pajamas were all like that—oh no, wait. Once he wore dark gray and she almost fainted from shock.
Odds were inevitable that she’d see him naked someday, though. They lived together now. They planned to live together indefinitely. Statistically speaking, at some point, she’d walk in and…
“What’s going on in there?” Jordan was suddenly in front of her, grinning like a fiend. He lightly tapped the middle of her forehead. “You had an interesting look on your face.”
“Practice makes perfect—I mean, interesting how?”
Jordan cocked his head to the side. “Interesting like I’ve never seen it before so I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t know you were a telepath.”
“Empath,” he corrected with a laugh. “But it only seems to work for you.”
“Hate to burst your psychic bubble, but that’s more a me problem than a you ability. My face has always been too damn loud. I hate it.”
“I don’t. It’s the perfect volume for me.” He picked up the stack of plates, kissed the tip of her nose, and walked toward the sink.
That was Jordan’s first drive-by kiss on camera. She fidgeted, adjusting her cardigan. What could she do to volley such a great opening move?
Her newly installed seduction light bulb clicked on.
“Seven.”
He turned to her with a confused expression and a question in his eyes.
If affection was step one in their playbook, mastering near-silent communication had to be step two.
It was a hallmark of close relationships, and they had to prove they could do it, especially since Lulie rocket launched that fake-marriage accusation.
That was absolutely going to make it into the show.
The pressure was on like never before.
Zinnia willed him to understand and remember. One to ten—that kiss was a seven and an open pass to do it again.
But his questioning gaze slid into a frown as he resumed washing the dishes. The camera had her in frame again with all the disappointment she felt written all over her damn face.
Jordan shut off the water. His frown lines had grown deeper and didn’t relax until he placed his hands on either side of her on the counter. He bent down to her eye level. “Seven, huh? That’s barely a passing grade.”
Euphoric joy bubbled inside of her chest. Having his undivided attention made her feel like she was floating away—her body lighter, more delicate, with a quickening in her lungs and a nervous heartbeat in her ears.
“Seven is good,” she assured him. “Seven is great.”
He kissed her cheek, pausing for exactly three of her heartbeats before kissing her again, right in front of her ear. “I want ten.”
She inhaled sharply as his words shot through her, quivering all the way down to her knees.
How did he keep doing that? Something about him cut straight through her and exposed how inexperienced she actually was.
It took every ounce of daring she had to lean into him and breathe a whispered, “Eight-point-three.”
His surprised chuckle soothed her insecurity. He pulled back, giving her an appraising look—both proud and challenging. “You sure about that?”
“I am.” She was cooking with gas, but he was ready to play with fire and they both knew she was no match for him.
She desperately wanted to be, though.
“Don’t move.” His tone flirted with command, but his eyes were filled with patience. Her answering, almost-imperceptible nod was only for him.
Anticipation coiled around her body like live wire. She waited, heart racing and palms suddenly itching to touch him first. Rushing forward would ruin his play. Be patient, she reminded herself. Trust him.
Jordan kissed her forehead. Then the small space between her eyebrows. She closed her eyes and felt his kisses there too, one eyelid after the other.
This was the worst, most terrible thing he could’ve possibly done.
Fucking like rabbits implied lust. She thought they’d be all over each other, raunchy and unbridled.
She wasn’t expecting this—to feel adored and worthy of such tender affection. He was bestowing her with soft kisses, each one as cherished as the last. The bridge of her nose, the apples of her cheeks, the corners of her mouth…
Jordan’s imagination was simply superior.
Standing behind her, holding her hips, and playfully tucking her head under his chin—inspired. Knuckles massaging down her spine—divine. Teeth grazing her bare shoulder—transcendent. She wasn’t into biting, but maybe she was! He somehow always found the exact move to make her crave more from him.
With a contented sigh, he pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as she opened hers. She felt herself drifting toward him like she didn’t have a choice. Some unknown part of her had taken the wheel.
“Nine-point-nine,” she whispered, lips lightly brushing against his.
Uncontrollable longing wreaked havoc throughout her from that small, soft touch. It banged on her walls, tore through her nerves, screeched in her heart. She clasped her hands together, holding them to her chest to keep from grabbing him and destroying the scene he’d built.
The visible tension in his body imprinted onto her memory. His taut restraint as he gripped the counter instead of her. His quick, shallow breaths. How tightly he squeezed his eyes shut. His lips moved, but it was only to smile as he laughed, low and throaty. “You are such a tease.”
“I’m not trying to be.” Those five words revealed so much more than she’d meant them to. He didn’t want to kiss her. Not in the way she was secretly hoping to try. It’d be bad for the show if it happened too soon.
“That’s usually how it works,” he said, as if he really could read her mind. “Let’s get out of here.”
“But the dishes?”
“Wylie can do them. He owes me.” He righted himself and held out his hand for her to take. “I’ve had enough for today.”