I stare at him for a beat too long, unsure of how to proceed. I wasn’t expecting to come home to this, and I’m not sure how to proceed. “Right, because a coat of fresh paint is going to make this situation better.”
Yup, that’s more like me. Using sarcasm to deflect how I’m truly feeling about the thoughtful gesture that makes me way too uncomfortable for my own good.
He blinks, straightening a little and trying to pretend my words didn’t strike a nerve. “I thought it might help. Make it feel more like your home too.” I squeeze my fingers in a tight fist to ground myself, and when I don’t answer, he continues. “Last time we spoke, you mentioned wanting to make the space your own.”
“I meant I wanted to unpack.”
“I was trying to do something nice.” I watch his shoulders flex as he reaches up to smooth a stroke above the window, and for a brief second, I hate the way my pulse reacts. “Are you also redecorating?” Jase asks, changing the subject as he sneaks a peek at the bags in his hand. He sets them down on the coffee table.
After stopping in at the Red Barrel for the essentials I needed, I took a short walk to the local antique shop and becamemesmerized by a set of handmade, vintage woven wall art of three little bears. Since the day I found out I was expecting, I’ve only ever referred to my baby as my little bear. Seeing the neutral-colored little bears through the window felt like it was a sign I needed them for the baby’s nursery. Who knows, he’s probably already chosen the paint color too.
Not that Jase and I have even spoken about what it will look like or if we’re going to be finding out the gender of the baby within the next month. There’s so much that goes into preparing for a baby, even more so when your partner isn’t someone who you are romantically involved with and can barely even look at without things being incredibly awkward.
“I saw those displayed in an antique shop window downtown, and I just had to get them for…” I pause, my gaze falling to my feet again to avoid staring at his bare chest, and I can feel the heat creeping up my neck.
How the hell am I going to live with and raise a child with this man if I can’t even look him in the eyes when he’s shirtless?
He takes two steps in my direction, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as his fingers hold my chin, lifting my head to meet his. With the little bear in hand and his eyes locked on mine, the expression he gives me only further ignites the anxiety, rendering me speechless.
How did we ever think this was going to work?
“It’s going to look perfect in our baby’s nursery.” Words fail me a second time, though not because of the way his fingers softly graze my skin, but from how easily he can read my uncertainty and attempts to soothe the turmoil within me. Jase can tell I’m struggling to say the words, and he comforts me, saying them without a hitch in his tone.
Just four months ago, we fell victim to the temptation of being in a place away from home and the lives we lived, giving in to the sexual tension that continues to be so palpable you canfeel it in the room. You can taste it in the air, an aura so potent I feel my skin crawling with a heat I only feel in his presence.
Here we are now, forced to live under the same roof. Two individuals who know as much about our future as we do about one another—absolutely nothing.
However, it’s the way he looks at me, like he understands my fears and uncertainties regarding this journey we’re on, that makes me so uneasy. I don’t know how to respond to this version of Jase.
I know the womanizer, the man who never takes anything too seriously. Not the one who, despite his outgoing and laid-back nature, has a soft spot I’ve never bared witness to. I have to remind myself not to get caught up in the emotion this side of him brings out in me. I can’t get used to the feeling when he touches me. Even the simplest of platonic grazes has my mind whirling with the need for more. With curiosity about what could be.
“You’re covered in paint,” I mutter, forcing myself to swallow back the lump forming in my throat as I back away from him.
He glances down at his chest. “Yeah. I didn’t plan that part. Seems like I should have thought of hiring a professional.”
I crack a smile as I stare at the streaky wall. “Yeah, nothing another coat of paint can’t fix.” I take the bear from him and grab the bags he set down. “Looks like you have a lot of work to do. Better get to it. I’ll be upstairs doing literally anything else.”
“You’re not going to help me? I thought we were in this together? Come to think of it, you’re the professional here.”
I laugh wholeheartedly because he’s not wrong. I’m the one with an interior design degree and company, yet even I outsource the big things like paint and flooring.
“I design spaces. Create mockups of what rooms will look like. I don’t do any of the heavy lifting, Jase. I’ll leave that to you.”
“Whatever you say, Moonshine. I won’t fail like you are assuming I will. I’ll see this job through. You wait and see.” My cheeks ache from how wide I’m smiling, and I can’t help it. Gone is the unease I felt just moments ago, and in its place, a calm serenity that maybe, just maybe, Jase and I will get through this. Though the moment is cut short when fear creeps under my skin at the way my heart skips a beat when he smiles at me.
We’re supposed to be just two people, living in a house that still doesn’t feel like home, trying to meet in the middle. That’s the plan.
However, Jase King is the epitome of a man I have no business falling in love with. I can sense this story is about to take the path less traveled, the path of most resistance.
To hell with plans.
Chapter Three
Jase
Four months ago
Monroe Bishop was fucking beautiful.How had I never realized the extent of her breathtaking beauty?
