Page 52 of Make Her Mine

That’s nice too. I am actually very hungry.

He brings a small plate up in front of me and my gaze drops to…Brussels sprouts. I carefully school my features.

Jefferson knows me really well. And he loves to give me a hard time.

He knows I fucking hate Brussels sprouts.

Asshole.

I dig my nails into the back of his hand as Zach’s eyes drop to the plate then come back to mine.

“Harlow doesn’t like Brussels sprouts,” Zach tells Jefferson with a bit of smugness.

“She didn’t used to,” Jefferson agrees. “But she’s changed since you knew her. In lots of ways.” He withdraws his hand—the one I’m not sorry to see tiny nail imprints on—and moves slightly to the side so he can look at me. “Isn’t that right, Lily?”

I get it. I wore the blue dress to drive him a little crazy, so he’s going to make me eat Brussels sprouts in front of my ex. We might not be outwardly fighting right now, but there’s still a battle of the wills going on.

I pluck one off the plate. “That’s right.”

“Lily?” Zach asks.

Jefferson watches me wet my lips in preparation for biting into the disgusting green orb in my fingers.

The corner of his mouth curls and it does look affectionate, but I know it’s because he can’t wait to see me eat this damn thing and pretend to like it.

I am so getting him back for this.

I don’t give a fuck how much bacon and cheese and balsamic glaze someone put on these little fuckers, they are still disgusting.

“Oh, that’s my little nickname for her. She didn’t really like lilies, but I gave them to her on our first date.”

“I know she doesn’t like lilies,” Zach says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I push the Brussels sprout past my lips, bite into it—oh my god, that’s horrible—and hide my grimace with a forced smile up at Jefferson. He lifts a hand and swipes his thumb over my bottom lip. Apparently, there was a smudge of balsamic glaze there. He lifts it to his mouth and sucks it clean.

And for just a second, I forget the bitter green blob in my mouth.

Damn, why was that hot?

“She still doesn’t really like them,” Jefferson says to Zach, still looking at me. “But it’s kind of our little joke. I gave them to her on our first date, not knowing she didn’t like them. She smiled, thanked me as if she was delighted, then brought the bouquet with us and handed flowers out to people as we went along all night. Now I bring her a lily for each date. She always gets rid of it as soon as she can. I started calling her Lily.” He shrugs. “It’s just our thing now.”

I’m blinking at him, the Brussels sprout nearly forgotten.

Wow. That’s a good story. Adorable even.

I almost wish it was true.

“I see,” Zach says.

Now he looks really frustrated.

And that is probably worth having a Brussels sprout in my mouth.

But we need to wrap this up. Because now I’ve remembered it’s there and I’m starting to feel a little like gagging.

I look at Jefferson, willing him to read my mind.

He leans in, kisses my cheek, then says, “We should get back to the table.”

---