Page 31 of Make Her Mine

I also don’t like the way it makes me think that I might need to see what gossip I can find about his past girlfriends. Then he straightens. “But dinner tonight is at the Spencers’. It’s the whole family. Pre-wedding get-together. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

CHAPTER 8

HARLOW

I immediately turn on my heel and start down the sidewalk. I can not stand outside our moms’ bakery and stare at him while wondering if Jefferson is actually an amazing boyfriend who’s really hot and dirty in bed.

I Do. Not. Care. It doesn’t matter to me at all.

Jefferson’s love life has never been a topic I’ve cared about in the slightest.

I have never heard girls talk about him, but I’m certain that if I had, I would have immediately blocked it out.

Besides, where would I have heard about it? He hasn’t dated a lot of women from Sapphire Falls. Sure, in high school he dated a couple, casually. But the only girls he was with for any length of time were from other towns and he was never serious about anyone. Sapphire Falls girls weren’t good enough for him, I’m sure.

I remember Adrianne talking about a girlfriend in college, but he never brought anyone home for holidays or anything. Probably because he was embarrassed of his hometown.

I try to concentrate on our immediate issue of telling all of our friends, quickly, that we’re fake dating so no one messes our story up. But I can’t stop thinking about what Jefferson said. Any of what he said.

“Are you really a good cook?” I finally ask. Is there an underlying meaning there? Sure. But I honestly didn’t know he could cook either.

He gives me a cocky grin, the look in his eyes telling me he caught the extra meaning. “I can make a beef stroganoff that would make you cry.”

I narrow my eyes. Does he know that beef stroganoff is my favorite or was that a lucky guess?

“Cry because it’s terrible?”

“So good you would never want to leave. And that’s not even my specialty.”

“Well, I’m sure I would want to leave because of something you would say regardless of the food.”

He just chuckles and it hits me that one of the things I like best about sparring with Jefferson is I don’t worry about actually offending him.

We’ve been doing this for so long, he expects me to say snarky things.

I also know that he can tell when I’m serious and when I’m not.

When we were younger, Jefferson would tease Graham and me, but it was in the older brother I-like-you-even-though-you-annoy-me way. I did feel like a younger sister to him. And I’m sure I did annoy him.

Graham and I would often be camped out in their family TV room when he wanted to be there watching sports or playing video games with his friends.

I’d also been known to borrow things from him. Without permission. Like shirts of his to act as swimsuit coverups when I was over at their house and Graham and I decided to head to the pool. I know I’ve lost at least two pairs of Jefferson’s sunglasses, a cap, and I broke a flashlight that for some reason was very important to him.

But as we got older, Jefferson had started trying to get Graham to hang out with him and the guys and leave me behind. He wanted Graham to go out for sports, to go fishing and swimming with the guys, do almost anything on the weekend as long as I was not included, and things between Jefferson and me got more seriously tense.

Graham would confide to me that he felt pressured by his brother to fit in and be more social. Jefferson made him feel like his lack of interest in sports was a shortcoming. Jefferson encouraged him to ask girls out and asked Graham at least half a dozen times if he was in love with me.

Nobody messes with my friends, not even their older brothers, so I let Jefferson know how I felt about all of that. Often. And loudly.

Jefferson Riley is still one of the few people who can get me to raise my voice and even swear. I like to think I can keep my cool in almost any situation, but Jefferson has long been able to push my buttons.

Growing up with an older sister who had been in the foster care system, abused, and neglected, and was back-and-forth between that abusive home and ours for almost two years before her adoption was official, I had learned to be patient, calm, and quiet.

There were many times when I wanted to yell and cry about Mia's situation. But she was shy and timid and easily overwhelmed, and I needed to be a safe, comforting space for her.

So I squashed my impulses to lash out and be loud, learning to be a calming person who listened and gave quiet, positive encouragement.

I am a fucking Susie Sunshine as far as everyone knows.

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