“Okay, she would never,” he continued. “But if hypothetically she’d been in your exact situation, that’s what you think she should feel. That she should be upset at herself after her mom passed away, and she discovered her husband and best friend cheating on the same da?—’
“Hey, I’m the mom in this,” Jenna interrupted, trying to distract him because she got his point and didn’t want to admit he was right. She wasn’t the biggest fan of admitting when other people were right.
“No, you’re not,” he corrected her. “Because in this scenario, she isyou. So she would have hadyourlife.”
Just hearing those words caused Jenna’s stomach to cramp with nausea and the breath to be stolen from her lungs. Blake wouldneverhave had her life. She would die, kill before that would happen. Tears formed in her eyes, but she instantly blinked them away. She really hoped D didn’t notice.
Something flashed over his face before he very quickly continued as if the atmosphere hadn’t shifted, “And then after all that, she goes to a quiet bar, thinking she can justdrown her sorrows, and ends up meeting thesexiest,hottestman she’s ever seen in her life, I mean, come on, that would be too much for any mortal person to handle.”
She appreciated him lightening the mood, another check in the green flag box. Not that she was counting green flags or checking boxes. That would be crazy.
“Yeah, but then she had to knee that guy in the balls five minutes after meeting him because he was an asshole,” she teased.
The smile that spread across D’s face did things between her legs she hadn’t felt in so long she forgot her body could feel that way. Tingles and pressure began to build, and the only place he’d touched her was on her lower back through her sweatshirt.
“So backwards hatfrat boyis thehottest,sexiestman you’ve ever seen in your life?” he asked, still smiling, going along with her joke. At least, she thought he was, but she did sense maybe a teeny bit of, not jealousy, but something.
“I didn’t see anyone else in the bar who could fit that description,” she responded with wide-eyed innocence.
His smile grew even wider, and his head fell back as he laughed. The laugh was full, rich, and contagious. It spread through her and warmed her like a fire on a cold blustery day. She couldn’t help but laugh along with him.
When he straightened again and looked down at her, he was still chuckling until he saw her beaming up at him, then his smile dropped, his breath hitched, and his eyes grew intense as he breathed out a ragged, “Fuck.”
“What?” Her own breath caught in her throat.
“Your smile is…” His words tapered off.
She felt nervous, the butterflies were back, but this time they were lower in her belly. When she was nervous, she smiled so she smiled again automatically. Her lipsparted, curling at the edges. “It’s what?” she prompted, not fishing for a compliment, just genuinely wanting to know how he would finish that sentence.
Men had told Jenna that her smile was the eighth wonder of the world, it was the sunrise and/or the sunset, it lit up a room, it made the world a better place, it made men forget who they were. Her favorite was a gay writer, a client of hers, who told her that her smile was a plot twist and no matter how his day was going, it always changed his story for the better.
Compliments never meant anything to her. They were words. Anyone could say words. Most of the words from men she heard growing up were lies.
But for some reason shereallywanted to know what the man standing in front of her was going to say.
His chest rose and fell in a shallow breath as she stared at his mouth. “Your smile isdangerous.”
“Dangerous?” That was a new one. She never got dangerous before. “How is it dangerous?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but her stomach decided to choose that exact moment to interrupt their conversation and growl. Loudly.
She chuckled. He didn’t find it funny. Instead, he looked concerned.
“When is the last time you ate?” he demanded as if her life depended on it.
“Um, last night around?—”
“Last night?!”
“I’m not a big breakfast eater, and today was?—”
He pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?” she asked, even though she had a pretty good idea.
“Ordering dinner. You’re eatingnow.”
“No, I need to… I have to take a shower. I can’t eat with…” She didn’t want to say death on her, but…
