A knock sounds on the door and instantly my heart races in my chest, my breathing unsteady as I brace myself for what will come next.
“I know you’re in there, Monroe. Please open the door. We need to talk.”
What I need is distance. A moment of clarity without being subjected to his heat. To the way his eyes show so much emotion when he smiles. A smile so genuine and kind, it makes me feel all fluttery inside when it’s aimed my way. From the moment I moved in with him, I’ve become a pile of mush anytime he smiles in my direction.
It’s stupid, I know. I’m not a hearts and flowers kind of girl. I’m tough on the outside, at least as much as I hope to be on the inside.
Tonight, I didn't just blur the lines between us, I all but erased them. But they need to be redrawn and kept in place. Not only for my sake, but for my baby’s.
My silence continues, afraid that if I get up and open the door, I will completely crumble to pieces before him. I’ll have no restraint and will give myself over to him without hesitation.
“Moonshine, please,” he begs, and I know exactly what he’s doing using the nickname he’s given me. The one that makes my heart skip a beat anytime he uses it.
“Fuck,” I curse to myself. They were not kidding about these pregnancy hormones turning you into a complete puddle of raw feeling and emotions you have no control over.
I never spoke to Jase about how I felt after our night together in Miami. Not about how I’ve been feeling since I moved in and have spent countless hours by his side. I knew he must have felt it in my actions, in the way I was trying to distance myself a little more during our shared meals, sitting across from him at the dinner table rather than beside him as we talked about our day. I knew he felt it in the way I excused myself to bed, simply walking out of the room in a hurry to get away.
But these past few nights, I’ve forgotten all about that. I’ve allowed him to get close, to see past the walls I built in the first place to keep me safe and prevent me from getting hurt. Here Iam, locked in my bedroom, hiding from the man who’s trying to convince me I've been wrong all along.
He cares about me. He wants this between us to be real, but I can't help the lingering doubt creeping in my head at the reminder that his ex-girlfriend is still here and she wants him back.
I can hear Jase wiggling the doorknob, but he stays quiet, knowing I need my space. Tonight was a lot. We’ve been living together for so little time and I can already feel my resolve crumbling. It’s become an unspoken rule in the house that we’ve grown accustomed to each other at arm's length and not allowing each other to get too close. I know Jase for the man he is, not who I assumed he was—a playboy. A man who thought so highly of himself simply because everyone adored him.
It wasn’t his fault, but with me, he’s become someone I don’t recognize. I know if I let him get close, that will be it. I will fall in love with a man who’s not mine to keep, and worse, he might fall in love with me too. I’m not ready for that now, not sure I’ll ever be.
I’ve avoided Jase for five days because I think I’m falling for the father of my baby.
It sounds ridiculous to be afraid of something that so many would call a blessing, but I honestly don’t know what’s preventing me from seeing it that way. It’s like there’s a part of me that can’t get past the thought that things won’t work out between us and we may end up regretting our actions more than if we stayed just friends.
Why ruin the friendship?
The answer is obvious, because it has the potential of being so much more, or completely blowing up in our faces.
I’ve spent every day since then hiding out in my office, working when the business is technically closed until the new year. I’ve spent the rest of the evenings hiding out at Billie’s apartment as we finalize the details for tomorrow night's New Year's Eve Bash at Stingers. Since the speed dating mixer was such a hit, Bailey couldn’t miss the opportunity to throw an equally incredible celebration. Besides, Theo owes the town a private concert since his performance at the harvest festival was overshadowed by the revelation of my pregnancy, my relationship with Jase and all the family drama.
However, today, there’s no more hiding out like a pathetic little girl who can’t face the consequences of her actions.
I quietly head down the stairs, my head throbbing from lack of sleep. I must have gotten all but twelve hours of sleep in the last three nights, and I should have stayed in bed, but my stomach is rumbling so loudly and painfully, I think I might die if I don't eat something.
I tug my robe snug around my body, fluffy pink slippers I got as a gift from Billie on my feet, as I head towards the kitchen, dying to have another cup of hot coffee. It was cold last night, a lot colder than it’s been, which only proves this will be a brutal winter in the coming months.
I reach the bottom step and turn towards the kitchen, only to find Jase is up and fully dressed—thank God—standing beside the kitchen counter. His back is to me as he busies himself making a cup of coffee, but it's not his fully covered torso that has me so aghast. It’s the fact that as I walk closer, I see an array of breakfast items neatly organized on the kitchen island.
I’m hit with the aroma of delicious bacon, pancakes, and fresh fruit. “Is that cobbler?” I ask, surprising him and forcinghim to turn my way. My plan is to pretend that night didn’t happen and hope he does the same.
“My mom’s very own blueberry cobbler. I had Bailey make it, and I put it in the oven this morning so that it would be nice and fresh to enjoy.”
My heart flutters at the kind gesture. Magnolia King’s blueberry cobbler is my all-time favorite meal. “I used to ask Bailey to convince your mom to make it anytime I would come over. There was even this time in college where I had her tell your mama it was her favorite so that she would pack us some so we could freeze and bake whenever we felt like eating it.”
“I know,” he states simply, and I don’t know what to make of it. “You might not have noticed, Monroe, but I’ve always paid attention. You would devour it anytime we would make it for a barbecue or Easter Sunday when Mama would bring out all the cobbler, and you’d always have a smear of blueberries on your chin.”
I gasp. “Oh, shut up. No, there wasn’t.” he laughs and, my god, my pussy throbs.
He looks so relaxed today. Dark blue jeans and a heather gray henley that fits him perfectly. My eyes roam over the bulge in his jeans, and I instinctively lick my lips, eliciting another soft chuckle from him. My cheeks heat as I realize I've been caught ogling him.
“Yup, blueberries all over your face. It was a disaster. You were one hot mess.” His eyes rake over my body as he says it, and I pull the robe tighter around me. Not that I’m indecently dressed or anything. But I’m not wearing a bra, it’s cold, and the way Jase licks his lips as he pictures said blueberry jam on my face, has my nipples rock hard.
“Anyway, I just pay attention.” A domesticated Jameson King was not on my bingo card, but that’s exactly what he lookslike. All he’s missing is a cute little apron in a beautiful shade of blue to match his eyes.
