Page 49 of A Little Crush
He pulls back, surprised. “That was…work related.”
“And in a way, so was my polite conversation with Crowther.” Shifting Poppy in my arms, I throw Jaxon a bone and change the subject because let’s be honest, he isn’t the only one who would prefer to keep our little get-together at SeaBird in the past. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the evening?”
“They’re bringing in food, then they’re probably going to have a movie night or something and hit the weight room in the morning.”
“Got it. And where do you want me and Pops?”
“I was gonna go back to the hotel and look over some tapes from last year. Do you want to come?” He hesitates. “You can leave Pops with me and go out or…stay in and order room service. Whatever you want.”
Go out? I’d laugh if the idea alone wasn’t so ludicrous. If anything, I’d take Hades on another walk which would take an hour, tops. Other than that? I got nothing.
“Room service sounds great,” I tell him.
“Well, then.” He stands. “Let’s get outta here.”
18
RORY
Just like we discussed, Jaxon’s assistant booked us a suite. It has two separate rooms, a small kitchenette, and a shared living area with a television and pull out couch. Poppy woke up by the time we got to the room. While I ordered room service, Jaxon changed her diaper on the bed in his room. It’s kind of strange. Knowing only a wall separates us. The familiar buzz of the television cuts through the silence, and a few minutes after, the smell of Jaxon’s steak hits my nostrils. I opted for a Cobb Salad, though regret swells in my stomach as I enter the main living area, finding Jax balancing Poppy on one knee while shoving a bite of steak into his mouth.
He lifts his chin toward the second tray, and I take the lid off, my expression falling. I mean, it’s a fine salad. All the usual fixings. But it’s not a thick, juicy steak.
Chuckling, Jax offers, “Wanna split?”
I collapse onto the chair beside his and shake my head. “No, I’m good.”
“Liar.” He reaches for my plate and scoops half the saladonto his before cutting the steak in two and sliding the bigger half onto my own. “Here.”
“Jax—”
“Veggies are good for me.”
I give the broccoli that came with his meal a pointed stare.
“Eat up, smart-ass.”
So, I do because who likes cold steak, anyway?
Once I’m finished with my meal, I twist my fingers in my lap, unsure what to do or where to go. See? This is the part that’s weird. The part where I don’t know if I’m still on call or if I have the rest of the night off or if?—
“Stop tapping,” Jaxon orders.
I frown. “What?”
He sets his fork down and reaches beneath the table, stopping me from tapping my fingers against my thigh.
Shit. When did I start doing that?
My muscles freeze, and he squeezes my hand softly. Sometimes I forget how well he knows me. My quirks. My anxiety. My history.
“Hey, Rore,” he says. It’s like a welcome back but not in a condescending way, more like he knows I was lost in my own head and needed a push back to reality. He’s not wrong.
Forcing a smile, I reply, “Hi.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing—”
