Page 23 of The Kiss Keeper
“You’re a good person, for a Jake,” she said then hiccupped.
He handed her a napkin, and she dabbed at her eyes.
“Sorry, I get a little tipsy and emotional with champagne and tequila and rum and wine. Jake number two from college would always say—”
“Let me guess, that you’re a lightweight,” he finished.
Her face lit up. “Yes, that’s exactly what he said.”
“Maybe you should steer clear of Jakes,” he offered.
She leaned in. “You’re not so bad.”
He wanted to tell her he was bad, probably one of the worst Jakes out there. He only cared about making money. But he couldn’t get the damn words out.
She drummed her fingers on the armrest. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should give up Jakes. In all the years of dating them, not one ever put me first. And come to think of it, they were all pretty awful in the end.”
“There you go,” he replied.
“And do you know what else I need to steer clear of, Jake number seven?” she asked, all earnest eyes and kissable lips.
He shook his head.
“My witch cousins and their toe obsessed perverted husbands.”
He reared back. “Your what?”
She sunk into the seat. “Leslie and Lara and their husbands. They’re awful, and they’re all podiatrists.”
He didn’t know any podiatrists but couldn’t imagine that all of them were awful.
“Are they bad doctors?” he asked, needing some clarification.
“No, my cousins have teased and tormented me for ages, and now that they’re married, their husbands try to find ways to touch my feet.”
He cringed. “That’s damn creepy, even if they are podiatrists.”
“Right,” she answered, nearly knocking over the empty champagne flutes.
He handed them to the flight attendant as Natalie pulled a face mask from their first-class complimentary box.
She held it out for him.
“No thanks,” he said, and she frowned the cutest damn frown he’d ever seen.
“No, silly! It’s for me. Can you take it out of the plastic wrapper? I can’t feel the tip of my nose anymore.”
He bit back a grin. “You don’t open it with your nose,” he replied, staring into her sparkling green eyes—now considerably more sparkly from the champagne.
“I think I need a nap,” she said, fanning herself as her cheeks grew rosier.
He ripped open the plastic and removed the sleep mask. He went to hand it to her, but she closed her eyes, then leaned forward.
“Can you put it on me? I don’t want to get it all caught in my hair.”
She had beautiful hair. Long and dark. It brushed past her shoulders in subtle waves. He could still feel the strand wrapped around his finger.
Jake Number Seven, stop!
