Page 105 of Bottles & Blades

Only, when our gazes connect, I find that he’s not furious.

Instead, he’s smiling, and what he says shocks the hell out of me.

“I like him, peanut.”

Thirty-Two

Jean-Michel

I’m sittingin the passenger’s seat of Tiff’s car, bracing.

For a fight.

For another flash of that temper she gave me in the kitchen of her parent’s house.

Instead, she slipped from her father’s room when the doorbell rang and the night nurse showed, greeting her and then taking my hand, drawing me from the house.

I expected anger after we climbed into the car.

I expected it as we drove back to my house.

I expected it when we parked in an open spot in my garage and she turned off the engine.

“Why are you staring at me like I’m a bug?” she says softly, reaching into the back seat and snagging her purse.

“You’re pissed,” I say then admit, “And I’m bracing.”

Her mouth quirks. “For what?”

“For the explosion.” I reach over the console, brush my fingers over her cheek. “I know I overstepped.”

Her mouth quirks further. “By about a mile.”

“I’m not going to apologize.”

She sighs, but her eyes are dancing. “Of course not.”

“Baby—”

“Today was a shit day,” she whispers, and my stomach clenches. “But it was a shit day where I didn’t feel alone, so really, I need to be thanking you for that.”

“Tiff—”

“Thank you, honey.” More whispering.

“Dammit, buttercup.”

“What?” It’s still a whisper.

“I keep thinking it’s impossible for me to like you more, but somehow I do.”

Pink on her cheeks.

Her tongue darting out to moisten her bottom lip.

“Jean-Mi.” Another whisper, but a needy one this time.

I heed that need, settle my hand on the side of her neck and draw her closer.

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