Page 54 of Blindsided By You

At the pub, I settle myself into the booth, opposite Geordie and alongside Connor’s bulky frame. Nathan’s there too, and the talk is all about the game tomorrow. Even so, I feel their eyes upon us. I can see what they see. Every time we interact. Geordie’s eyes are a little brighter, his smile a little wider. When he banters with me, it’s charged with something small but visible. I mirror it. Without thinking, my body and my words respond instinctively to Geordie, in a way they don’t with anyone else.

When Nathan and Geordie head for the bar, Connor nails me with one of his serious looks. He’s an old soul, this man. That sage-like demeanour he seems to have worn since his teens is another reason I’ve always seen him as just a wise friend. I suspect from his expression he’s about to share a little wisdom with me now.

“So,” he says, rolling the word thoughtfully on his tongue. “How’s it going?” He inclines his head towards Geordie standing at the bar.

“How’s what going?” I purse my lips and raise my brows in mock confusion, scrambling to cover my surprise. If Connor wants to interrogate me, I’m not making it easy. If he’s got a question, I’ll make him spell it out.

Undeterred, he does.

“You and Geordie. Come on Jenna, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“What?” I say, my brows. “Nah, nothing to see there, Connor. Just friends.”

“Is that right?” he says.

“It’s just good to be back amongst people I know. Especially after the last six months.”

I feel a twinge of guilt. I’m not proud of dragging up the horrendous year I’ve lived through to put him off the scent, but I’m desperate. Nathan knows. If Connor knows too, that’s two people who can talk about it. Neither of them are gossips, but it only takes a slip of the tongue when someone else is in earshot and it’ll be all over town.

“Sure,” he says, “as long as you’re OK.”

He stretches a broad arm around my shoulder, giving me a brotherly side-hug. He’s smiling down at me, which is just as well, because he doesn’t see the flash of concern—no, jealousy—that blazes acrossGeordie’s face. It’s there for an instant and then gone, replaced by his normal cheerful expression as he sets the drinks on the table in front us.

This isn’t good. Sure, we’ve agreed we won’t see anyone else while we’re seeing each other. It’s just common sense. It’d get awkward. So he knows I’m not going to start up something right in front of him, or even in secret. He really has no reason to be jealous of Connor hugging me. It’s Connor.

But when I see Geordie’s possessiveness, I’m worried—for two reasons.

First, it confirms my fear that he’s making too much of this thing between us. And second, I like the way it makes my heart leap way too much.

Chapter 28

GEORDIE

“Doyouhavetogo?” I have to ask, even though I know the answer.

The more I have of Jenna Sharpe, the more I want. A week ago, this would have been a dream come true—her lying in my bed, her curvy body soft and warm against mine, and the air thick with the scent of us, mingled with her already familiar expensive perfume.

Nuzzling into her hair, I drink in the fragrance of spring, probably some equally expensive shampoo. I want more of it, more of her. I should be grateful for these early autumn nights, making love to Jenna in slow, languid strokes—learning her body, savouring the details of what brings her pleasure. But I want more.

I should be relieved we no longer have to tiptoe around the undetonated bomb of her father coming home early—or risk that fucking psycho dog launching a teeth-fuelled missile attack on my ankles. Or my arse. I’m sure he’s not fussy about where he maims his victims.

What eats at me is how business-like this feels—like a transaction, with secrecy as the price I pay to keep her in my life. All I’m offered is this small part of her, while if I had the chance, I’d take it all.

“Stay,” I plead gently. “Phone him and tell him you’re staying over with a friend.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a lie.”

In the dark, I wince at her words. It’s not a lie. We are friends. While I’ve been told friendship is a sound basis for a relationship, from the moment we reconnected out on the terrace at that damn party—only two weeks ago—part of me has wanted Jenna as more than a friend. And not just the sex, although that’s pretty fucking amazing.

“I can’t Geordie. Not yet.”

I feel a stupid leap of hope at that one little word—yet. Her staying over in my new flat isn’t off the cards—yet.

It’s probably wise to take it carefully. However, I’m sure we’ll be sprung, eventually.

Even my parents questioned my urgent need to move out of my childhood bedroom and in here with Nathan. Dad isn’t sorry to see me gone, but Mum’s plea for me to at least come over for dinner once a week tugs at my conscience. She’s not yet cleared to go back to work, even with the reduced hours Dad insisted on. I’m sure running around after me and cooking dinner for more than the pair of them helped to fill her days.

But that’s not the main reason for her invitation. I know, even after all this time, she holds out a tiny hope that he and I could sit at a table together and have a normal conversation. She’s an optimist. It’ll never happen.

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