“In my line of work, things are rarelyokay,” he said. “Another day, another fire to put out.” He smiled a terse smile.
That worked more quickly on Jack than it did on Harmony. She could stomp around for a solid hour before she gave in and talked to April.
“Do you need to talk about it?” April asked, since that seemed like the right thing to say.
He shook his head. “It’s handled.”
“Are you going to leave?” she asked, hoping like heck he wouldn’t be leaving her for the next fire. Not yet. She needed a little more time before the training wheels came off.
“I got it covered.” He moved into the room, but he didn’t sit. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets and studied the floor.
“Hey, I’m sorry about before with Kitty and Simone. They mean well and—”
“You’re clearly an important part of their lives,” Jack said, a new awkwardness settling between them.
Neither of them said anything.
They’d disagreed over brand direction. They’d had many, many conversations over all kinds of subjects. Heck, they’d even played tongue twister.
They’d never had awkward before, though, and she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it.
“Jack, I—” she said at the same time he said, “We should address—”
They both halted.
“Jack,” she said, giving him a second to ensure he wouldn’t speak, too.
He nodded. “You go first.”
“I enjoyed what happened outside.” She stumbled over the words becauseenjoyedwas the least appropriate word ever. What had happened was the best thing she’d experienced since…well… It’d been awhile.
He nodded, his expression still clipped like his words were before when he was at the table. “I did as well.”
Wasn’t that just the glowing review a girl wanted after macking on a guy?
“Good.” She closed her laptop and set it aside, redistributing the pillows she had propped it on so they weren’t a theoretical mountain between the two of them.
She opened her mouth. Best to just get it out there. Lay down the parameters of what they might consider doing with each other physically. “I was thinking—”
“It probably shouldn’t—” He chuckled. “You go first.”
Going for breezy, she said, “I went first last time.”
The bashful expression he gave her—the puppy-dog eyes and the unusual innocence stopped the argument she was about to make before it slipped to her tongue and out of her mouth.
So she went first.
“I enjoyed what happened.” She kept her gaze on his. “A lot more than I thought I would.” Wait, that didn’t come out quite right. “I mean when I imagined kissing someone other than…” She needed to stop and maybe get her words together first.
She held up her one-second finger and heaved a deep breath. Sometimes she swore she forgot to breathe. Which was really random, given her dedication to the practice of breath.
Finally she said, “If you want to do that again, I’d be game.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, though. “We could also do more. I’d be game for that, too.”
He didn’t move and his face totally shuttered. The blinds firmly closed. Poker face engaged.
“Unless you don’t want to. That’d be fine, too,” she said.
But would it? Because if he turned her down this far into whatever it was they were doing, she’d fall right on her theoretical face and there would be some definite emotional bruising.
