“Seriously?” Her voice was breathy, and her heart thundered at the proprietary way he’d put his hands on her body.
“What?” He looked at her with wide-eyed innocence, his shoulder pressing against hers. “It might need to support two people on occasion.”
She was so close—so close—to asking if he was implying what she thought he was implying, but he’d already stood up to arrange delivery details with the saleswoman.
“They guaranteed delivery within two weeks,” he said as they walked back to his Jeep. “And the delivery guys promised they’d take the old couch straight to the dump so no other deejays will be harmed by the biohazards living between the cushions.”
“Funny, funny guy,” Mabel replied, her mind spinning with excuses to extend this shopping trip a bit longer. Her own rules didn’t allow her to date Jake, but at the same time, she wasn’t ready to end this outside-the-office contact. If she could just prolong the afternoon, she’d get to spend a little more stolen time with him without making her question whether those no-dating rules were helping her or holding her back. Because right now all she wanted to do was take those rules and set them the hell on fire.
She bit her lip and took the plunge. “Hey, you wanna use Brandon’s card to buy us some lunch?”
He didn’t answer right away, and Mabel started to worry that she was having a better time than he was until he looked over at her with a slow smile. “Brandonabsolutelyneeds to buy us lunch.” He fired up the car. “Point me to your favorite spot.”
“Rule breaker!” she exclaimed, heart beating faster. “I was wrong. The Jeep might suit you after all.”
Eight
“You’ve been holding out on me.”
Mabel grinned up at him. “What, that human beings occasionally eat outside during the work week?”
“Yep. Exactly.”
They shuffled forward a step as the line inched closer to the kabob vendor.
“Frankly, it’s inexcusable. All this time I’ve been in Beaucoeur, and you’ve never once dragged me here.” He gestured to the lines snaking across the sidewalks outside the county courthouse where a half dozen food carts offered various culinary delights to be devoured alfresco on the public square.
“Honestly, I was worried you’d burst into flames if I exposed you to direct sunlight.” She looked at him over the rim of her sunglasses, and their eye contact threatened to stretch past an acceptable length of time until she blinked and looked forward with a playful toss of her hair. “You know, like a gremlin.”
“It’s a risk you take with accountants.” In truth, he did feel a little like he might burst into flames, but it wasn’t from the late-September sun beating down on his head and roasting him inside his suit. It was from the nearness of her body to his as they crept closer to the front of the line. With Brandon’s plans weighing on him, he’d tried to keep a wall between them when they’d set off that morning, but the sheer enjoyment of time spent with her pushed those concerns to a corner of his mind almost immediately, leaving his keen physical awareness of her front and center.
He already knew she was smart. He already knew she was funny. And now he knew just how much he wanted her. And that was a hell of a thing to grapple with in the midst of scores of hungry Beaucoeurians. So naturally he looked for an opportunity to touch her.
“You’re missing part of your disguise,” he said. She’d ditched her hat, and he tugged a lock of her hair. As an excuse for physical contact went, it was flimsy, but it was all he had. And damn, her hair was soft between his fingers.
She straightened her Rolling Stones tank top and pointed one gold-sandal-clad foot with a grin. “The hat didn’t match the ensemble.” She took a step forward, leaving him free to glare at the dude walking past who couldn’t keep his eyes off her bare legs under her denim skirt.
“People might recognize you and get the wrong idea about us,” he said when he caught up with her in line.
“Please, have you seen you?” Her teeth flashed white against her tan skin as she smiled wolfishly. “Iwishsomebody would think we’re dating.”
The smell of spicy meat faded into the background, and he forgot to be annoyed with the fidgety guy behind him as her words ping-ponged around his brain. She’d made it clear weeks ago that she didn’t date—some kind of bad experience, and a public one at that. So she had to be joking around. But God, imagine if she wasn’t. Imagine if he could return the compliment, tell her that her hair was sunshine and her eyes were robin’s eggs and her lips were the softest temptations he’d ever seen. Imagine if he kissed her.
Oh fuck, imagine if he kissed her.
The line shifted again, and he swallowed back the need pounding through him to give the stout, mustachioed man behind the cart his order. Once his hands were full of kabob and soda, it was easier to be his usual friendly self again. Mabel guided them to an unoccupied bench at one corner of the grassy square, where they proceeded to devour their food and discuss whether the original cast ofBarbarian Time Brigandswas superior or if that honor belonged to the cast of the reboot. As their debate escalated, pressure built in Jake’s chest and expanded until breathing almost became painful.
Happiness. It was happiness swelling under his rib cage and putting pressure on his lungs. He was many things in his life: reliable employee, devoted son, overprotective brother, loyal friend. But happy? That wasn’t part of his résumé. Yet here he was on a weekday afternoon, sitting in an outdoor plaza that offered a glimpse of the Illinois River. He’d ditched his coat and loosened his tie, and Mabel was pressed against his side, beaming up at him as she spoke. He couldn’t think of a time when he’d felt more pure contentment with exactly where he was in life.
He crumpled up his wrapper and wiped his greasy fingers on a too-small napkin, determined to chase this unusual feeling. “So tell me, local citizen. Why is your town calledBeaucoeur?”
The twitch of her lips gave him pause.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh my God, your accent!” she laughed. “Somebodytook French…”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “I thought it would impress girls.” A pause. “It didn’t.”
