Mike’s oblivious to the conflicting feelings bubbling up in me as he says, “Hey, Shells. Glad you got there in one piece. Sorry I’m not around today. Thanks, Jordan. See you guys tomorrow.”
“Yep. Go do your baseball thing. We’ll be fine.” I wave goodbye to my brother while Jordan hangs up.
Then I stare up at Jordan, and he lets his eyes linger on my face a little longer than feels strictly necessary. I can’t tell if his eyes are more brown or green, but there are flecks of gold in the hazel that make his irises look like caramel apples. Warm, sweet, and inviting. His gaze travels down my body quickly, stopping briefly at my cleavage before it lands on the floor, which causes a confused little baby butterfly to try to take flight in my belly once again. Does he like what he sees?
“Want to play a game or something?” he asks, pocketing his phone and bringing his mesmerizing eyes back up to mine again.
“Sure. Do you have Scrabble?”
“Ha. No, but even if I did, I’m not going up against a law student in that one. What was it you said earlier about evening the playing field? We need to stick to games we both have an equal opportunity to win.”
I laugh. “Okay, well, barring a wing-eating contest between the two of us, what did you have in mind?”
“Cards Against Humanity?”
“You can’t play that with only two people.” I tisk.
He smirks at me. “Sure we can. Whoever makes the other person laugh hardest wins the round.”
I like that idea. “Oh, you’re so on.”
We sit at the kitchen island and play for over an hour. When the black card on the counter saysHey baby, come back to my place and I’ll show you [blank]Jordan puts down a card that readsa cooler full of organs.
“Just some friendly advice, maybe save those organs for a second or third date,” I tell him. “We ladies like to keep the mystery alive.”
“Noted.” A half-smile plays with his lips, and his shoulders shake with silent laughter. By the time we’ve run outof cards, we are both cackling so much my sides hurt. The awkward vibe from earlier is gone.
“I concede,” I tell him. “You win.”
“Yes! Victory is mine.” He shoots his fist into the air, those magic eyes shining brightly at me. “Are you hungry?” he asks, lowering his arm while he glances at the clock on the microwave.
“Of course.”
The humor seems to leave his face for the briefest millisecond, but it returns just as quickly. “Let me see what I’ve got. I’ll make us something.”
“But I promised to buy you dinner,” I argue.
“That won’t be necessary. The Blue Crab is the only place to go, and they’re closing an hour early every night this week to prep the food for the wedding. Besides, I have stuff here.”
Right. Small town. Limited options.
“You cook? I’m impressed.”
“Yeah, why? You don’t?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“What do you mean? You eat, don’t you?”
“Sure. I also have a mean trigger finger that can dial for delivery in seconds. Or I eat things that come fully prepared. Fruit, yogurt, lunch meat, cheese. I can put out some charcuterie like nobody’s business.”
He chuckles. “That counts. I love charcuterie.”
“Of course you do. Everyone loves it.” But that’s not exactly what I mean. I tend to pick foods based on how many dishes they’ll require. “Why dirty a bowl, a whisk, a pan, a plate, and a fork making myself some scrambled eggs when I can pop a bagel in the toaster and eat it over a paper towel? Then I only have to wash the knife I used to spread the cream cheese.”
“That just sounds efficient.” He shrugs.
“I think so. But if you’re looking for a woman who will feed you homemade chicken and dumplings or whatever, I’m not her.”
