Page 71 of Falling for Red
Your bullshit is keeping you from having this great guy.
Jake steps closer, taking the cookies out of our cart. He looks down at Gabby, then at me. “I’d love to have you both over before these expire. I can make dinner, and we can have these for dessert.”
I could groan again at how perfect he’s being, even though I’ve been an asshole to him.
Gabby’s eyes are looking up at me, smiling.
“Maybe,” I breathe.
Jake’s eyes slowly rake down my body. My mind flashes back to him taking me, absolutely railing me. It was so fucking good.
“If you ever need help completing a mission, call me.”
I nearly flinch, my mind replaying him teasing me with the toy. I force myself not to smile. And I fight back the urge to jump into his arms and make out with him. I need to start up therapy again. I don’t want to fuck this up, and I’m not ready for the love he is offering me.
50
Twelve days later
Friday, August 1st
Chad is cleaning us out tonight. I comb my hands through my hair, exhaling as he flops down a straight on his dining room table in his backwoods cabin. We all shake our heads, and he drags the pot of chips toward him.
“You aren’t supposed to win in your own house,” Chris grumbles, tossing his cards down.
“You stacking the deck?” I joke.
“I feel like I’m the only one concentrating on the game,” Chad says, sipping his beer.
He isn’t wrong. Nicholas keeps turning his wedding band on his finger. I wonder if he’s told the other guys yet. Chris is downing beer like it’ll drown out his separation, and I … I’m thinking about Claire.
I know she wanted space. I told myself I’d respect that.
But all night, my mind’s been looping back to her. To the way she looked at me in the grocery store. The way she didn’t tell meto fuck off when I invited her over. The way she reacted when I mentioned the mission.
Should I just give up on the idea of us? I don’t want to. I’ve given her space, but maybe too much. Maybe I should be bold, do something?—
My phone buzzes on the table.
Claire Moore
I would like another mission.
I blink. That can’t be real. Swiping open my phone, my lips curve into a smirk. My pulse kicks up, my whole body reacting to this, to her. I stand, needing a minute alone.
“Taking a piss,” I mutter, heading to the bathroom.
A mission.What would be just enough to thaw the ice but not too much? Does she still have the toy? I still have the app.
Should I call her? Would that be too much? Or would it be exactly what we both need?
She texted. We’ll text.
Jake Schmidt
When it’s in, I’ll give you directives.
I hope she didn’t throw away the toy.
