“You can’t count traffic twice.”
“You can if it sucks enough.” A laugh escapes from me, and his deep chuckle joins in as he continues. “Plus, then you’re all wet and stuff when you get to where you’re going. Rain sucks.”
This time, I let the eyeroll live. “You’re wrong. Rain is very romantic. Being wet together is romantic.” I put on a show for my next statement. “A person confessing their love in the rain before they’re both swept up in a passionate kiss in the heat of the moment.” I point a finger at him. “Veryromantic.”
He chuckles again. “You obviously watch too many movies.”
“Youdon’t watch enough! After our next study session, we’re watchingThe Notebook. Best romantic rain scene of all time.”
“Definitely not,” he says, falling back in his chair.
“Definitelyyes! My goodness,” I sigh as if I’m being overworked. “Obviously the book is better but—”
“I don’t do girl books.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m not telling you to read it, you big baby! I’m just saying it’sbetter.” He shakes his head, his playful grin giving way as I cross my arms over my chest. “You need some romance in your life,” I continue. “And a woman to get your heart all warm again. The tin man wanted a heart.”
“I’m good,” he chuckles. “Romance free is the way for me.”
I laugh at his ridiculous rhyme. “Okay, fine, no romance for mister anti-love and all things fluffy.”
“All thingswhat?”
“But still—you need, like, a hook up, or a friends with benefits arrangement.Something!”
His brows shoot up in amusement, making me realize how inappropriate that last statement was. My playfulness vanishes, and embarrassment sets in with a warm stroke on my cheeks.
Damn tequila.
“Are you offering?” His voice is low and suggestive and lands deep in my core. His eyes stay on mine, mischief swirling with interest and maybe something else, a seductive smirk on his lips. My breath quickens, and my pulse starts to race. But what surprises me the most is my want to sayyes.
It’s not that I’ve never been with a man before. It’s just that the few times I have were with my high school boyfriend, and there hasn’t been anyone since. Honestly, it’s kind of surprising I was ever intimate with anyone at all. Not that I would consider the few sexual experiences I did have asintimate. They were more like two wrongly fitted people dancing awkwardly at a club they had no business being in.
Anyway, the point is, I haven’t felt this wild hormonal surge burning every inch of me since I was seventeen. And for the life of me, I can’t swallow it back up.
Looking at Jake, though, it’s hard not to let my imagination run wild. He looks like someone who’d change a girl’s whole world with just one touch. Like his hands alone would be enough to wipe me clean and wash me of all my sins.
“Beer?” he offers after too much silence stretches.
“Please,” I sigh.
His eyes linger on mine a minute longer before he disappears into the crowded bar. I take a breath as I regain my composure, readjusting in my seat before he reemerges with four Michelob’s in hand. He passes me two before taking his place across from me.
“I don’t know if I won or lost your weird tricky game, so I bought a round for each possibility,” he says with a wink.
I smile, tickled by the butterflies blooming to life in my belly. I take a sip of the ice-cold beer, thankful for the new flavor. “This is exactly what I drink. I guess you reallyaregood at reading people.”
He grins briefly before taking a sip of his own. “Me too,” he admits.
“Really? I didn’t take you for a light beer guy,” I say, tipping my bottle toward him before setting it down on the table, my forearms crossed along the table’s edge.
“It’s better for my…performance.” He smirks, and I don’t know if it’s the warmth from the house tequila and beer or the way his eyes land on me, but something inside me stirslow. “My running times are always off when I drink heavy beers the night before.”
“Sure.” I grin knowingly. He doesn’t correct me.
He swigs his beer, long and drawn, and I all but finish mine. My head is a bit light with all the desire stirring inside me. I wonder if he feels it, too, or if it’s just the alcohol spinning my mind like a lump of clay on a pottery wheel.
“Tell me something about you.” My request is met with a new twinkling gleam in the deepest green of his eyes.
