He huffs out a laugh. An actualreallaugh. “Alex…”
“Or if you’re not a sheep guy, maybe count footballs. Or grizzly bears, or… I don’t fucking know. Something.”“You’re insane,” he says, but there’s no bitterness inhis voice.
“I know.”
My fingers trail over his jaw, and I should probably stop touching him, but I don’t want to stop touching him. Now, later, or ever.
And I don’t think he wants me to either. Which is the bigger problem. If he wants me to do something, I’m going to do it. If he wants this… how can I stop?
“Whatever it is,” I say, letting my hand drop from his face. “I’ll fix it.”
His honey eyes soften; his eyebrows furrow. “Some things you can’t fix, Alex. Some things are just beyond repair.” He looks out toward the dark road.
His words cut me to the bone. I get the feeling we’re not talking about his car.
The rain echoes off the truck roof like a symphony. I don’t think it’s going to let up any time soon.
“Well, when that happens, there’s always Mastercard,” I say with a grin.
He laughs again, but this time it sounds tired.
“Come on,” I say, reaching my hand out to take his. “It’s a hell of a lot warmer in there.” I nod toward the house.
“How the fuck am I going to get work?” he mumbles, his fingers squeezing mine. His palm heats against my hand, wet yet warm. Jordan is holding my hand and not threatening to kill me. This is a win.
“Take my car,” I say with a shrug.
“I can’t take your car,” he bristles, pulling back as we reach the porch.
“Why not?” I ask as I limp up the steps. He slides his arm around my hip to help me up the three steps, and I settle my arm around his shoulders.
“Because, I—”Under the awning of the porch, I can see how wet he actually is. He’s shivering.
“It’s the least I can do,” I say, opening the front door. “Besides, I probably should take a break from driving for a little bit.”
“How are you going to get to therapy?” he asks.
“I’ll call an Uber. It’s not that big of a deal.”
He looks from me to the door, then back at me.
“What?” My voice comes out raspy.
He swallows hard. “What the hell areyoudoingup?” His gaze moves from my face down my body, then back up like maybe he likes what he sees. All the other times I’ve caught him out of the corner of my eye, but now…
He makes no move to pretend or look away. Instead, he takes his time meeting my eyes.
“Too hot,” I say with a grin.
He steps through the door as I hold it open for him, brushing against me on the way due to his size.
I shut it, and we just stand there in the living room, soaked to the bone, no light but the brightness from the television.
Jordan stares at me as if he wants to argue, protest, be grumpy—something.
God, he is so fucking gorgeous. Clothes clinging to him, wet hair in his dark eyes. Perfectly parted, pink, pillowy lips.
It takes everything I have to turn away and head down the hall to the bathroom to grab some towels.
