I open the closet and balance the vibrator box and magazine on the shelf.
The bathroom opens behind me causing the closet door to bump into my back from behind. Heavy feet shuffle beyond.
“Hey, I’m in here,” I grump. Seriously, Gus couldn’t wait for two more seconds in the bathroom instead of almost crushing me here?
“Oh. Sorry,” A low, raspy voice that does not belong to my older brother says on the other side.
And I suffer from an acute form of cardiac arrest.
Death and I are now one.
Jack peeks back at me on the other side of the hallway. A towel hangs low on his waist. The sculpted Adonis V I’ve seen far too much in the past few weeks is more alluring in person.
He’s…hypnotic.
The ominous feeling in the air intensifies as I take in the water droplets trailing down his hair and the intricate tattoos etched into his skin.
Couple that with the just-showered sandalwood scent overwhelming me, and all my good sense has suddenly gone up in flames.
Quickly, I avert my eyes. But it’s too late. The smirk on his face and the slight raise of his eyebrow tell me I’ve been caught ogling.
“Why—what—when—who—” I shake myself out of the various forms of the interrogative rattling around in my brain and clear my throat. I’m currently barely obscuring a magazine clipped to an indecent picture of him with—if he thinks they’re coming from me—obsessive hearts that should give him the creeps…and a vibrator. “Why are you here?”
“Simone moved little Jack into the nursery. Gus should have told you.”
And yet, he didn’t.
Seriously? This would have been helpful to know—I don’t know—before I put on his sweatshirt and looked like I had a total Jack Parker problem.
What was I doing again?
Right—the bag.
I fumble, trying to reach the gift bag box, but it’s a shelf too high. Gus must have been the last one to grab something from it.
I press up on my tiptoes, but still, it’s out of reach.
“You want me to get it?” Jack asks over my shoulder.
“No, that’s completely unnecessary. Thank you, though.”
“It seems kind of necessary.” He steps toward me.
Panic sets in. I can’t risk him getting any closer and seeing—any of my “Obsessive Lover Who Can’t Take a Hint” collection. If he notices any of this, there’s no way he’ll want to be friends with me anymore, and I’d lose a fair amount of respect for him if he did.
“Pants,” I shriek. “Why don’t you have pants?”
“Is that what got you flustered? Relax, Birthday Girl, you’ve seen more of me before, remember?” He winks. The corner of his mouth twitches in a quick smile before he narrows his eyes and takes another step forward. “Is that my sweatshirt?”
“What? This?” I turn a little hiding the Sublime logo plastered across the front with the giant sun. “No.”
“Didn’t take you for a Sublime fan. Not very rom-comy.” Again, he steps forward, and my heart leaps out of my chest. Between his little smirk, that towel, and everything that’s going to come crashing down on me if he comes over and sees what I’m trying to hide—I’m going to have to move to a different country, and I’ve never even left New England.
“Huge fan,” I lie through my teeth. Maybe I can at least get out of this one fiasco. Save a tiny portion of my face—like the lower left quadrant, where I have that one freckle that’s pretty cute.
“Sure.” He snorts. “Not that I’m doubting you, but for shits and giggles, could you name any song by them?”
With every smooth step toward me Jack takes, I get the sense that he knows how much of an upper hand he has and is enjoying my flustered state.
