He shook his head. “We may have only had our first official date last night, but we’ve been drifting toward each other ever since that first Friday when you sat down at my bar.” He squeezed my hands. “It feels perfect to me. Doesn’t it feel that way to you?”
“Yes,” I admitted. We moved toward each other at the same time, our mouths fitting in that combustible way we had. The apartment around us disappeared, and all that existed was Jack and the way he made me feel.
My lips curved against his in a smile, then we pulled apart. “I’m making you breakfast.”
“I can help,” he offered, starting to slide off his stool.
I stopped him with my hand on his arm. “Nope. I want to do something for you this time.”
His eyes followed me as I moved around the kitchen. I brought the coffee pot to him, refilling his cup, and his lip trembled as he stared down at it.
“Okay?” I asked.
His hand moved to the back of his neck. “If by okay you mean bursting out of my skin, then yeah. I’m terrific.”
I grinned at him, then returned the carafe where it belonged. While I cooked breakfast—eggs, toast, and some potatoes I’d found—he watched me. He didn’t get bored and reach for his phone as a distraction. He didn’t try to correct anything I did or give me directions to help. His eyes remained on me, as if he couldn’t look away.
I set a plate in front of him and sat beside him again with my own and a glass of juice that he’d declined.
“Thank you. It looks great.” Jack picked up his fork, savoring the first bite.
I wasn’t the best cook, but I wasn’t terrible either. Competent, especially at no-frills types of meals. It was a skill Mr. Miller had taught me, saying everyone should know the basics of cooking to be an adult. He’d always been the better cook growing up.
“I have to go to the bar this evening, but I’d like to spend the rest of the weekend with you. As much time as I possibly can. Oh, and my parents invited us to dinner tomorrow. Would that be okay?” Jack asked.
That he wanted not only to spend time with me but also wanted me to meet his family made me giddy, but I focused on his last words. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”
“I don’t want to crowd you. It’s okay if you’d like some time alone. You need to tell me if I get too—” He swallowed. “Clingy.” His voice wentquiet on the word.
My hand found his, linking our fingers. “Same for you, then. I really want to come sit at the bar tonight to be with you, but if that’s too much, tell me.”
His hand turned in mine, linking them better. “Not too much. It makes me happy.”
“You wanting to be around me makes me happy, too.”
He nodded, searching my eyes. “But you’ll say something if that changes?”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“Good.” He squeezed my hand before untangling them and reaching for his fork again.
I stared down at my food, remembering what Sean had said about the woman Jack had dated in the band. My chest felt tight. “How many?” I asked.
Jack paused with his fork raised toward his mouth. “How many what?”
I took a breath. “How many girlfriends made you think you were too clingy?”
Jack’s eyes dropped to his food. “It’s not their fault. I can get… intense. It can be a lot.”
I rested my hand on his arm. “You’re perfect to me. I don’t see that changing.”
“Say that after we have our first fight.” He smiled at me.
“Okay. Let’s do it.” I straightened on my stool, turning toward him.
He laughed. “Just like that? That’s not how fights work.”
“I’m sure something I’ve done bothers you. Were you upset we didn’t have sex last night?”
