“To be cautious, we’ll ice it when you sit down.”
We went straight into the play area, picking a table close to the action. It smelled like rubber and sweat and the walls reverberated with happy, playful shrieks. Nora, high above my head in a helicopter with a plexiglass bottom, waved at me.
Jesse left to fetch ice. When he came back, he moved a chair to the side of the table then squatted beside it and gently lifted my heel to rest on the seat. Self-consciousness roiled in me. I didn’t need him to do this for me. I wore slip-on sneakers, cream-colored, with no-see socks. Jesse grabbed the heel of my shoe, carefully removing it.
I considered telling him I could do it myself, but Jesse seemed eager to help. Even though it went against every instinct screaming in my chest, I let him pull my sock off and gently lay a napkin and bag of ice on top of my foot. I shook my head at myself. My fear didn’t even make sense. The play place was empty except for one other family, and Jesse didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who was malicious toward the inconveniences in his life.
Well, no one ever came across that way. Not in the beginning.
“Thank you,” I said, hating that our warm, fuzzy moment retreated.
Jesse left again then returned with arms full of napkins, ketchup packets, and cups of iced water. He got to work, setting places around the table. A napkin, ketchup, straw, and cup for each of us. I watched in silence, marveling at the nurturing gesture. His impulse to set the table reminded me this man had been single for a long time and was probably very independent. Jesse could’ve just left all that piled up in the center of the table—Garrett would’ve. That is, if he wasforcedat gun point to enter a play place and do menial, peon tasks like fill water cups in the first place.
I almost snorted out loud.
Jesse removed paper from the straws and stuck them in the cups. I said, “If I can’t walk tomorrow, I need a cover story.”
He laughed, the sound bringing a smile to my face. “If it makes you feel better, my injuries have all been embarrassing, too.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I broke my nose running into a glass door.”
“Classic.”
“And I broke my wrist trying to skateboard off the roof of a barn when I was thirteen.”
My eyes widened. “That…sounds reckless.”
“It was.”
His eyes moved from cup to cup, making quick work of the straws before handing me a cup. I imagined him tomorrow, walking with the maid of honor—Jackie—and felt a twinge of jealousy that she would get to hold him close and share a dance with him at the reception. I sighed. “Well, hopefully whoever I’m walking down the aisle with doesn’t mind me leaning on him a little.”
His cheek rolled as he mumbled, “Yep. I’m sure he won’t.”
I chuckled. “Bea told me who, but I can’t remember his name.”
“You’re walking with Tag’s little brother, Cooper. He’s”—Jesse shook his head, looking for the word—“trouble. Just don’t lean too much or he might like it.”
A full laugh escaped me then. “Good to know. It’s against mynature to lean anyway.” I stifled a grimace, hoping that didn’t come across high and mighty.
But Jesse didn’t skip a beat. He crossed his arms against the edge of the table. “Well, if you ever needto lean, come find me. Not Cooper, alright?”
He looked straight into my eyes. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. He looked so serious, so drop-dead honest, that I couldn’t look away. Tingles erupted in my belly.
In an effort to break the intensity, I said, “So are you the lean-guy for everyone?”
“Not everyone. Just the people who matter to me.” His response was a straight shot into the bullseye of my heart, stealing the breath out of my chest. Words like that were on my no-no list—kryptonite that could leave me vulnerable. My heart called my brain for backup and dutifully tore his words apart so they couldn’t do lasting damage.
He wasn’t sayingImattered to him, obviously. Not like that, anyway. This was about him being indebted to me. That’s all. He would let me lean on him and inconvenience him because of Cade.
But then, his eyes, as green and soft as summer moss you want to take a nap on, dipped to my mouth. And, heaven help me, mine dipped to his.
My lungs turned to steel. My brain glitched, momentarily dropping its weapons, and my heart—for a fraction of a second too long—imagined what his smile might taste like, imagined how a slow dance with him would feel.
But a tray unceremoniouslythunkedonto the table between us.
Jesse startled away. “Oh, thanks.”
