The warmth of his palm against mine sparks a frisson of heat deep in my belly, but it’s fleeting, and I ignore it because as Jerry leads me through the pub, it doesn’t feel like he’s after a hook-up.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’ve made up this whole thing in my head, and he’s just being friendly?
Fuck, I really shouldn’t have drunk so much.
The room he leads me to isn’t empty by any means, but it is quieter than the main bar area. And the dartboard is free, as is the table and two stools next to it.
Perfect.
Jerry walks over to it and takes a long drink of his water before setting it down.
I do the same.
He produces two sets of darts from somewhere and sets them down too. “Look,” he says, meeting my gaze and the intensity there freezes me in place.
Oh god, we’re just going to jump right in then.
“I like you, Reed.” Heat flares in his eyes, and my breath catches. “You’re hot, funny, and ridiculously easy to talk to. Under different circumstances, I’d definitely be asking you to come home with me tonight. But...” he adds quickly when I open my mouth. “I get the feeling that you’re not in the right place for something like that.”
I shake my head. “I’m not.” I so, so wish that I was, because Jerry is all those things too, but I’m not there yet. “I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression by—” I wave my hand around, not sure how to finish that sentence.
Jerry frowns. “Nope. You have nothing to apologise for, and you haven’t given me the wrong impression. At all,” he adds when I raise my eyebrows.
“Really?” When I think back over the last couple of hours, I’m pretty sure I’ve been glued to his side. Even now I’ve somehowmoved close enough that we’re touching. I give a pointed look at where my arm brushes against his.
He shrugs like he doesn’t see the problem. “Just because you like a little human contact doesn’t automatically mean you want to fuck, Reed.”
I gape at him for a second but then have to grudgingly admit he’s right.
If we were in a club in the city, I might argue differently, because it probably would mean that.
But we’re not. We’re in a warm and cosy country pub, surrounded by people he knows.
Am I that out of practice that I’ve forgotten how things work?
He nudges me. “Sean didn’t tell me much, but enough for me to know you’re just coming out of a rough break-up.”
“Yeah,” I offer, because I don’t want to go into details.
He dips his head to meet my eyes again. “So what sort of arsehole would I be if I expected anything more than a friendly hug, just because you’ve spent the night glued to my side.” He smiles, eyes alight with teasing, and all tension leaves me in a flood of relief so great I let out a huff of laughter.
“You want a hug, huh?” I don’t know why I’ve focused on that, but now that I have, it sounds more appealing by the second.
“Who doesn’t love a good hug? And if I’m honest, you look like you could do with one.”
I could. I really fucking could.
And I trust him.
Probably because I feel the same. Under different circumstances, I’d totally go for someone like Jerry. I guess our timing might be shit, but I can always use a friend, and I think, Ihope, that’s what Jerry’s offering me right now.
So when he smiles and opens his arms, I don’t hesitate to step into them. He pulls me close into the warmth of his body—which is like a furnace—and I sink into it, barely stifling a groan because it feelssogood.
Apart from Sean, I don’t remember the last time someone held me like this. I wrap my arms around Jerry’s waist and bury my face in his shoulder. I get a whiff of aftershave. It’s subtle but not overpowering, and I’m sorely tempted to turn my head to the side and sniff his neck.
I don’t, obviously, because that would be weird, even for slightly drunk me. And I’ve just played the friend card, so I have no right to be sniffing him.
The hug goes on way past what I’d consider ‘normal hug length’ but neither of us move to break it.
