“I can get you a copy,” I tell her.
She lights up. “Really? I’d love that.”
“Me, too, please,” Tate says, and I nod at him. He’s still looking at me and Bea, with her arms still hooked around my neck. Abruptly, he stands.
“Jordan, would you mind helping me with the cake?”
There’s an odd urgency in his tone and eyes. His hand comes to my arm and he leads me—no, herushesme—into the kitchen.
“What’s the?—”
The second we round the corner, his mouth crashes against mine. My backside hits the counter as he presses me against it, his hands framing my jaw, tilting my head back to kiss me deeper.
I forget we’re in someone else’s home. I forget that his daughter and her mother and stepfather are feet away, talking. I forget that anything bad has ever happened to me.
Tate’s kiss consumes me, and I am powerless against him.
“I am so fucking into you,” he whispers in my ear before nipping my earlobe.
“Happy birthday, dear Bea,” we sing as Tate sets the cake with flickering candles in front of her. “Happy birthday to you.”
“Blow ’em out,” Holly calls, and Bea takes a big breath and blows all ten candles out.
We applaud and Tate cuts the cake.
Holly’s gaze bounces between the two of us with interest, her mouth tilting up at the edges. “Tate?”
He keeps his eyes on the cake while he cuts, and even his little frown of concentration is handsome. “Yes, Holly.”
“You have Jordan’s lip gloss on your face.” She winks at me, Jeff laughs into his hand, and Bea looks puzzled.
Tate wears a smug smile as he wipes the corner of his lips. My face burns hotter than the core of the earth and I stare at the table, wishing I could evaporate into thin air.
“Dad?” Bea asks as he resumes cutting.
“Yes, birthday girl.”
“Why do you have Jordan’s lip gloss on your face?”
He holds my eyes, the familiar amusement and steady affection in them settling something inside me. “Because I was kissing Jordan in the kitchen.”
Oh my god. I put a hand over my face. Damn him and his unwavering honesty.
“Oh.” Bea nods, seeming unsurprised by this. Holly’s eyes widen and she gives a meaningful glance to Jeff, who just smiles and shrugs.
I clear my throat. “This cake looks delicious.”
“Is it because she’s pretty?” Bea asks, and I close my eyes.
Someone giggles. It has to be Holly.
“Among other reasons,” Tate says, and when I open my eyes, he’s smiling at Bea. “But yes, Jordan is extremely pretty.”
CHAPTER 82
JORDAN
Bea staysat Holly and Jeff’s that night, and when we get home, Tate’s lips come to my neck as he leads me upstairs to his room.
