Chapter 14 #2
I should walk away. Instead, I pivot toward him again because fuck that.
“No, Jasper, I’m not still hung up on you,” I say as if I’m speaking to a toddler.
“To be hung up on you, there would have to be some quality about you that I like. That I miss. That I need in my life.” I return his smug grin.
“And, sadly for you, you do not possess any single one of those qualities.”
His gaze lifts just over my head, hardening as the seconds pass by.
“Now remove your fucking hand from my arm,” I say, lifting a brow.
As he slips his hand away from my elbow, an arm slides around my middle, pulling me back into what feels like a wall … a wall that smells like Jory.
Oh shit. I look up, my stomach dropping, as I peer into his eyes.
He winks at me but doesn’t let me go. I don’t exactly pull away, either.
“Who’s this?” Jory asks, drawing me closer to him.
I rest my head against his chest, wishing I could close my eyes and enjoy the softness of his shirt against the hardness of his chest. But the scene playing out in front of me is far too good to end prematurely.
Jory knows who Jasper is, and the kiss of protection embedded in his words is like adding a splash of gas on that fire I haven’t been able to extinguish.
Jasper looks at me, narrowing his gaze. He’s pissed. “New boyfriend?”
“I take it you’re the ex,” Jory says, humor in his voice. “Well, ex-boyfriend, meet the new boyfriend.”
What? My eyes widen, and I grip Jory’s forearm at my waist.
“Introduce us, babe,” Jory says.
Oh my gosh. I take a breath, not sure whether I want to laugh or cry.
“Jory, this is Jasper,” I say, trying to wrap my brain around the absolute ridiculousness of this moment. “Jasper, this is Jory Plath.”
“Noted,” Jory says. This time, there’s no humor anywhere to be found. “You ready to go, Markie?”
“Yes,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”
Jory turns, his arm still tight around me, so that I’m facing away from Jasper. Still, I hear his voice.
“If you ever touch her again, I’ll break every fucking finger on both hands,” Jory says, his voice ice cold. “Understand?”
Oh good God.
My gaze connects with Nettie’s from across the room, finding her with her mouth agape and entirely too invested in what just occurred.
“Too much?” Jory asks, finally letting me go.
The break in contact is like a breeze clearing my mind. The chaos is gone. All that’s left is the stark realization that Jory not only declared to Jasper that we’re dating, but that he threatened him not to touch me again.
That might be illegal, and it sure as hell isn’t the polite Jory I know. But holy fuck, it’s hot.
I take his hand in mine. “Come.”
“Here? Now?” He snickers. “I mean, if you say so.”
I glare at him as I set what’s left of my martini on a table and lead him to the ladies’ room. Thankfully, for the first time in forever, it’s empty. Once we’re inside and the door is locked behind me, I turn to him.
The room is smaller than I remember. Or maybe it just looks that way with Jory taking up space. Either way, he’s within arm’s reach, and I know exactly how it feels to be wrapped up in those arms.
I take a step back, putting as much distance between us as I can.
“What the hell was that?” I ask, laughing. “I mean, seriously, Jory. What just happened?”
“Look, I walked in with Gray. He saw you first, and I followed his line of sight,” he says, searching my eyes. “And all I could see was that asshole’s hand on your arm and the way he was looking at you, and I just thought I’d, you know, see what was up.”
I fight a grin. “You introduced yourself as my boyfriend.”
It’s an accusation as much as it’s a fact. But it’s a charge that Jory doesn’t seem to mind.
“That pissed him off, didn’t it?” He doesn’t fight his grin. “Fuck that guy, Markie. You can do so much better.”
“I’ll concede that point. But what am I supposed to do now that he thinks we’re dating?”
“He’s drunk. He won’t remember.”
I laugh. He clearly doesn’t understand how small towns work. “Oh, he’ll remember.”
“Then say he’s a liar.” His shoulders, wrapped in a black cotton T-shirt that matches the hat sitting backward on his head, lift in a shrug. “It’s not like that’s too hard to believe.”
“And have everyone think that I lost a boyfriend to a pretty blonde from Colfax County, then couldn’t find a partner, then got one and lost it—and then I got a new hot boyfriend and then … not?” I snort. “I don’t think so, rugby boy.”
He takes a step toward me, his eyes twinkling. “So, what are you saying, pickleball girl?”
“Pickleball girl, huh?”
Jory stops inches from me. His chest nearly touches mine. If I coughed, our bodies would touch, and I’d melt into a pool of lust at his feet.
“You can’t answer my question with one of your own,” he says, his voice deepening.
I tilt my chin. “I’m saying you’re going to have to fake date me. You caused this mess. You’re going to have to help get me out of it.”
“Oh, darn.” His smile is filthy. “Does this fake-dating scenario have any built-in benefits?”
Someone knocks on the door, yelling at us to hurry up. But neither Jory nor I break eye contact with the other.
The air between us swirls, growing thicker and hotter with each passing second. I should say something witty, then open the door, effectively ending this stunt that I’ll probably regret in the morning.
But I don’t.
Instead, I place my hands on his chest, pressing my fingers into the fabric of his shirt. His pupils widen as his gaze locks on mine. All I can think about is dropping to my knees and making him follow through with his threat from earlier.
“It was very chivalrous of you to come save me tonight,” I say, smiling up at him. “But it was also very, very hot.”