There’s a flash of emotion in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can decipher it, morphing into his charming smile with a twinkle in his eyes. “Why would she do that?”
“You tell me,” I say, and he shrugs. “You have to know.”
“I don’t,” he laughs out the response.
I glare at him. “Really? No secret love child? A wife you keep in the basement? An ankle monitor? Chronic ED?”
He snorts and laughs. I almost wish he’d mention his ex to confirm why but he doesn’t.
“You didn’t say no.” I raise an eyebrow, grab my suitcase, and start walking.
“Just trying to keep you guessing,” he says, stepping in stride with me as we walk.
“Oof.” I push the sound out with a breath, keeping my eyes fixed on the gray concrete floor in front of me.
I want him to elaborate but he doesn’t. He just smiles and says, “Where did you park?”
“Stranger danger,” I say. He stays quiet and continues walking next to me. “Fine. I’m taking an Uber.”
“Cancel it.”
“No,” I reply so quickly, his shoulders slouch.
I hate it, but the genuine disappointment on his features is so cute, and causes this warm, fuzzy, obnoxious feeling to invade my insides. I say, “Fine. But I want you to know I expect to get a picture of your driver’s license.”
He starts to laugh then stops when he sees my hand outstretched, palm facing the sky. He reaches in his back pocket and slips out his driver’s license. I examine it for a moment, biting back a smile when I look at his picture. Smokey green eyes. Olive skin. Dark hair I have had far too many thoughts about running my fingers through. That one sweet freckle on his lower lip.
I snap the picture and shove it back in his hand, seemingly undeterred.
He smirks and puts it in his wallet and slides the dark brown leather back in his pocket.
“Who are you sending it to?” he asks as I type furiously on my phone.
“Everyone.”
“Be reasonable.”
“Thatisreasonable,” I argue, hitting send to Claire and Lena—my best friends, my everything, everyone that matters most to me and cares most about me. Besides my sister. I’d send it to her but I’m afraid of the repercussions. If JP isn’t meant for me, I’d like to find out for myself.
“Can I take you home?” JP asks after I pocket my phone.
His voice is low and makes places all over my person tingle even though he isn’t trying to be remotely sexy. Which is exactly the appeal—the just-is without trying, the being without effort.
It knocks the wind out of me.
But I pretend it doesn’t and nod. “Sure. But on one condition...”
“And that is?”
“We drive through Taco Bell. I’m starving.”
seven
“ALL RIGHT, I HAVE TOsay, you struck me as a Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s type,” JP says as we pull onto my street downtown.
“You can park right here. This is my building,” I say, pointing to a free spot on the street. “And also, I don’t want to fool you, I am very much a Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s type, but a Crunch Wrap Supreme is simply tradition after a flight.” I plop in the last bite as he parallel parks and I wad up the wrapper.
He makes a clicking noise with his tongue and puts his car in park. I don’t ignore his condescension.
