As nervous as I was, I called him that very night.
TWENTY-SIX
Miranda
Jack worked late. I was already watching Food Network when he came home. Well, kind of. I was actually reading a digital book on my phone and Food Network was on in the background. Honestly, the TV was a cover. I only half-way watched. Pretty sure I just used it as an excuse to linger on the couch before bedtime.
And so did Jack.
After a quick shower, he joined me on the couch.
His eyebrows shot up when he saw the glass of wine I’d poured myself and a box of chocolates on the cushion beside me.
“Don’t judge.”
He huffed in amusement. He was pleased—thrilled even.
“Kacey ran out of his diapers, and for some dumb reason Russel Stover’s candy was 40% off. And”—I lifted the glass—“I’m getting spoiled.”
A crooked grin pulled at Jack’s lips. “Being a little spoiled isn’t bad.”
“When it leads to eating way too much candy, it is.”
He plopped down on the other side of the cardboard box and grabbed the little sheet, naming the varieties. I snatched it out of his hand. “How dare you!” I crumpled it up and tossed it across the room. “We don’t do that here.”
Jack’s jaw dropped, incredulous, his grin incongruent with his furrowed brows. “I’m sorry! I like to make informed decisions.”
“Nope. This is my chocolate. And the rules are—eat too much and take chances.”
He squinted, his eyes cutting between me and my wine. “Is that your first glass?”
“Uhm—no.”
“Wow.”
“But first pour was like legit two ounces.”
“Legit two ounces.” He repeated me, skepticism dancing in his eyes.
“Yep.”
“Su-ure.”
“If you play by the rules, you can have some.”
“Fine.” He picked up the box and set it in his lap. His huge frame bent adorably over the tiny box. He surveyed each one with laser-like focus. Slowly plucking one out, he said, “This is the one.”
“Go ahead.”
He popped the entire thing in his mouth. I watched him chew for a minute. Funny how his strong jaw and thoughtful frown made something like chewing attractive. I fought the stupid smile on my face and tried not to gawk at him.
“Well?”
“It was a good choice.”
“Was it caramel?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea.”
