Page 42 of Tangled Like Us
Our fingers brush as she reclaims them, and breath knots in my chest. I take the milk-soaked mapeen from her hand, washing and wringing it out in the sink. Constantly glancing back at Jane.
Meeting her gaze is where I want to be, but also where I shouldn’t be. Not while I’m off-duty.
She places the sunglasses back on her head and grabs the half-gallon. But she hesitates to leave. Questions sparkle her eyes.
I check the oven clock.
I haven’t forgotten my brother. Couldn’t forget Banks if my life depended on erasing him from existence. I’ve been here for a few minutes tops, but it feels longer. Each second stretched taut.
I rub my hands dry on my bath towel, and her attention follows the movement and drifts on its own course to my crotch.
I’m trying not to imaginea lot, and as soon as she notices that I just noticed she stared at my cock—she sends me an apologetic look.
“You’re fine,” I confirm. She shouldn’t feel bad for that. I’ve pictured her in more carnal positions, and I must wear some of my guilt.
“You’re fine too,” Jane says quickly.
“Good,” I nod.
“Bien,” she agrees.
We’re not exhaling like we should. But I loosen my joints and open a top cabinet, seizing a shot glass. “You want to ask me something?”
“You’re missing your necklace,” she says in a single breath.
I didn’t expect that.
My brows furrow, and I look back at Jane. I’m not sure what emotion crosses my features. But she stumbles over her next words.
“Not that I stare at your chest…all the time. Because I don’t…” She pauses. “Though, it’s inevitable to look at your chest. Because, you see, your chest is connected to your neck which is connected to your face…” She touches her forehead like she’s burning up. “And it’s in my line of sight.”
I’m so close to a smile, it fucking alarms me.
Usually only Banks makes me smile.
I put the shot glass on the counter. “I gave the necklace to Banks to wear for today.” I find a matchbook in the junk drawer.
She’s not going to ask why. Or pry further. Because she’s respectful of how far she digs, but I want to say more. I need to fucking say more.
Jane deserves the full hundred yards from me.
Not just a fucking millimeter.
“You know the horns on the necklace?” I ask.
Surprise jumps her brows. Not by what I’m asking. Just that I’m reciprocating. She can’t hide this cheerful smile, and seeing her this happy makes me feel good.
Really good.
“Oui,” she answers. “The horns are quite pretty.”
I nod once. “It’s called a cornic’—at least, that’s what I know it by.”Cornic’rhymes withunique.I take out a small bowl. “I was never taught the proper Italian word for it.”
“It has a special meaning?” she wonders.
“Yeah.” I check the matchbook to make sure there are at least three.Four left.“The horn is said to ward off the evil eye. It’s Italian superstition tied into tradition.”
She brims with intrigue. “Why would Banks need to ward off the evil eye?”
