Chapter 5
chapter
five
Jules
Nope. Absolutely not. This is a terrible idea.
This whole thing with this gorgeous man-child.
I shouldn’t have agreed to go get tacos with him.
And I should definitely not be considering what I’ve been considering.
But he is ridiculously sexy and effortlessly charming, and the whole of it is really working on me.
I want to strip him out of that white button-down shirt and see if his body is as amazing as I’m imagining.
I’ve known that I had no business flirting with him for approximately two hours. Which, coincidentally enough, is also about how long I’ve been staring at Payton Blankenship’s mouth when he isn’t looking.
Okay, sometimes when he is looking.
“You’re twenty-two,” I say.
He gives me that easy smile. “You keep saying that like I’m gonna forget.”
“And I’m thirty-two.”
“Also something we’ve covered.”
I blow out a breath, waiting for one of us to find some sense and walk away. “Ten years, Payton.”
“I can subtract. They did teach math at cowboy school.” He grins at me.
I fold my arms across my chest and stare at him.
He just stands there beneath the streetlight, waiting.
That might be the most irritating thing about him. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t fill the silence or try to talk me into anything. He just looks at me with those stunning blue eyes and that stupidly patient expression while I have an argument with myself that I am very clearly losing.
Because he’s twenty-two. And he’s Oliver’s younger brother. And Cora is having a baby with Oliver. There are entirely too many ways for this to get weird.
I am thirty-two years old and should have better judgment than this.
On the other hand, it has been so long since another person has touched me. Aside from my sisters, who insist on hugging me whether I want them to or not. And my students who don’t ask and don’t know the meaning of personal space.
But the touch of a man? Wow, it’s been so long.
I’m the first one to admit I’m guarded. I’ve been through enough therapy to know that I have significant commitment issues.
It’s why I’ve only ever been in one real, adult relationship.
That one went down in flames about three years ago, and I haven’t tried again since.
I look back at cowboy and let myself drink him in, really look at him.
Because even if I wasn’t considering what I’m considering, he’s just damn pretty to look at.
Long legs with noticeably thick thighs are encased in dark denim.
That white shirt is tucked into his waistband, and there is not a speck of anything on it.
Which is annoying, because I’m pretty sure I might have salsa in my hair.
There’s nothing tense about him as he lets my eyes roam all over him. He’s just easy and relaxed. I desperately want to melt into his arms, breathe him in, and bask in his unhurried, unbothered nature.
I would also like to do other things to him. Very adult, naked things. And he seems to be totally into me. I will not question that (too much) because I know I’m fabulous. I probably look like yesterday’s lunch, but fabulous nonetheless.
I exhale.
“I live alone.”
For the first time since I met him, Payton goes completely still. His eyes search my face. He’s not confused. Judging by the way his pupils widen, he knows exactly what I’m saying. Well, at least I don’t have to draw him a diagram.
He swallows thickly, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. “Is your place far?” he asks.
“No.”
Something hot unfurls low in my stomach.
He licks his lips; his gaze drops to my mouth.
“I don’t want to date you,” I say.
He blinks. “That took a turn.”
“I’m serious.”
“I can tell.”
“I don’t want flowers or phone calls or awkward expectations tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He elongates the word as he says it.
“And this,” I motion between the two of us, “doesn’t become a thing.”
“Okay.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Men usually make this more complicated.”
“I’m trying very hard not to fuck this up.”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it.
“Smart man.”
Something flashes across his face at the word man.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. He’s entirely too pleased with himself.
I step closer.
Payton’s smile disappears.
“You understand what I’m saying?”
“Pretty sure.”
“One night.”
His eyes stay on mine. There’s no teasing now. Just a sudden intensity that makes the ten years between us feel a hell of a lot less significant than they did thirty seconds ago.
“One night,” I repeat.
Maybe for him. Maybe for me.
He nods.
And there it is. Permission. I don’t wait another moment. I grab the front of his jacket in both fists and kiss the hell out of him.