Page 62 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

“That’s what Shirley said! What are we going to do now? I was bluffing earlier. I only bought eight boxes of Girl Scout cookies! That’s not nearly enough to keep me out of jail.”

As I’m frantically whining, Jack has placed his hand on my lower back and is pushing me toward a closet we passed in the hallway. He opens it and nudges me inside with the coats and cleaning supplies. He follows right behind me.

The closet is so small, we barely fit in here together.

My heart is racing but quiets a little when I shine the flashlight up and see Jack’s lazy smile. I’m not here alone. I’m with Jack.

We listen silently as the back door opens and there’s the sound of someone humming that we both recognize. Bart hums eighty percent of every day.

“Itishim!” I whisper, and Jack presses his finger to my mouth.

He leans in, his breath sliding against my jaw as he whispers in my ear, “Don’t panic. We’re not caught yet.”

Oh, but I’m fully committed to panic by now. I’ve only been in here thirty seconds and I’m already cramped in a suffocating way. A hanger is pressing into my shoulder blade and my hip is jutting out at a strange angle. It’s so dark, and if Jack weren’t in here with me, I’d be hyperventilating.

“We’re going to have to wait until he goes to bed and then we can sneak out,” he says once again into my ear, and the only positive part of this experience is that we’re so close. I can feel his words as they rumble through his chest.

We’re both marble statues in the cramped closet as we listen to Bart hum around his kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors. I think he’s making something to eat. My stomach growls in response and Jack looks down at it, making a hush expression. When we hear Bart’s footsteps getting closer, Jack clicks off the flashlight and we hold our breaths.What if he opens this closet?I might not have gotten fired for the email, but I sure as hell will get fired for breaking and entering his home. I’ll make sure Jack doesn’t, though. I’ll bargain and beg and plead. Anything to make sure he doesn’t lose his job.

Bart’s footsteps continue to approach and it’s now I realize that Jack is holding the laptop under his arm.Shit.If Bart goes in his office, he’s going to see that it’s missing. Why didn’t Jack stop us from doing this? This was a terrible decision. It was thoughtless, it was—

Jack’s hand presses into my lower back, pulling my hips flush with his. “Breathe,” he tells me as quietly as the breeze. “I can feel your heart racing. It’s going to be okay.”

My lungs release a breath. Tension flows out of my muscles.It’s going to be okay.I’m always the one promising that sentiment. Ihappily take on the responsibility of everyone’s burdens because I only ever feel good when I’m being useful to someone. But hearing those words whispered softly to me…it’s heaven.

And the best part is, he’s right. Bart doesn’t go into his office. His footsteps fade in the direction of his living room and then we hear the sound of his TV clicking on. I sigh and Jack’s hold around my waist loosens. Safe for now.

Knowing he’s out of visual range, Jack clicks the flashlight back on and shines it around the minuscule space and then sets it up against the wall. He looks around like he’s hoping a second bedroom will spring out of nowhere, and when he verifies it’s really just this little closet, he lowers himself to the floor, legs extending out and sandwiching my feet. His shoes touch the opposite wall.

He looks up at me and wordlessly pats his thighs.

I frown. He smiles and pats again. He lifts his right eyebrow and tilts his head in an “It’s going to be a long night” expression. I’m almost one hundred percent sure that sitting on his lap would be a very bad idea given the current state of my feelings toward him. But I also know that standing in this position for any length of time is going to destroy my back.

I tentatively shuffle around and lower myself to his lap, pretty much squatting so I don’t put my full weight on him. Jack huffs a chuckle at my nervous energy, takes my hips, and pulls me down firmly into his lap. His arm wraps around my abdomen like a seatbelt. There. Problem solved. Just my body sitting on Jack’s body. No big deal.

Except it’s a very big deal. His thighs are firm beneath my ass and the weight of his forearm is downright erotic. We’re so close and personal. I’ll never be able to erase the feel of him from my mind.

With his arm still around me, he leans over to grab the laptop, places it in my lap, and opens it.

Outside the closet, sounds of a game show blast. It really can’t be good for Bart to listen to the volume that high. But inside the closet, Jack fulfills my wish from that drunken night in my living room.I need you to fix it.His finger moves across the track pad as he opens Bart’s email account and scrolls down the list of unopened emails until he finds mine.There it is.

He selects it, then sends it to the trash. And because Jack is competent and doesn’t leave ends undone, he then goes to the trash bin, selects my email once again, and permanently deletes it.

I take in a deep breath, then let it out in one final rush.

It’s done.

“Your book is once again your own,” he whispers, silently closing the laptop and setting it aside.

“Thank you.” I twist a little to look at him over my shoulder.

“You’re welcome. But you could have done it on your own.”

“I know.”

“But you wanted me here?”

I swallow and grin. “And you wanted to help me.”

---