Page 91 of Own the Eights
She broke their connection and stared at the ground. If she looked at him, she might just fall apart. In her heart of hearts, she wanted it to be true. But how could she trust him? How could she know he wouldn’t hurt her again? She was about to tell him they could never make it work when her mother’s words, of all people, popped into her head.
Sometimes, we make the wrong choice. That doesn’t always mean we care any less.
She met his earnest expression with a skeptical eye. “How can I trust you? How can I know that you mean what you’re saying?”
He handed Barry the tube of vegan cookie dough, then reached out and held her hands.
She couldn’t help lacing her fingers with his. But these weren’t the strong, steady hands that had held her close.
“You’re shaking, Jordan.”
“It’s because I’m terrified,” he replied, his eyes shining.
“Of losing the contest?” She had to ask.
“No, of losing you.”
She wanted to take that step forward, close the distance between them, and let him wrap his arms around her, but she couldn’t. Not yet.
“Those are just words.”
Jordan nodded, then glanced toward the finish line. “One of the Marks Perfect Ten Mindset tenets is to always finish, right?”
She knew this song and dance.
She sighed. “Yes, along with a bunch of other hyper-masculine motivational bullshit.”
He chuckled as his gaze grew glassy. “How about this? How about wedon’tfinish this race together. Let’s turn around, start walking, and never look back.”
“What about the contest? Don’t you want to win?” she asked, hardly able to believe what he was offering.
Tears streamed down his perfect cheeks. “Nothing is worth winning if it means losing you.”
The breath caught in her throat. The man, terrified of being viewed as a failure, was ready to accept a life-changing loss all for her.
She blinked, coming back from the shock of his offer. “You’d do that? You’d give it all up? Your blog? The money?”
He smiled and cupped her face in his hands. “Do you need to hear this in the form of a royal decree from the esteemed Emperor of Asshattery?”
Now she was crying. “Yeah, I think I do.”
He brushed a tear from her cheek. “With you by my side, Georgiana Jensen, messy bun girl, I’m not giving up anything. Don’t you see, if you leave here with me, I’ve won.”
Her trifecta broke out into fist bumps.
Tell him you love him!
She did love him. Somewhere between the Birkenstock teasing and the goat breakthrough and her brief stint back in the world of pub pageantry, she’d fallen in love.
She parted her lips. “I—”
“Stop! There’s nowhere to run!” a man belted out.
Georgie gasped as the Dannies barreled toward them, limbs flailing. She pitched forward and fell into Jordan’s arms as the siblings tore past them with a cadre of police officers and men and women in FBI vests in hot pursuit.
She gripped Jordan’s arms. “What’s going on with them?”
He shook his head. “I have no idea.”
