Page 44 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
What the fuck was that?
Maybe he’s a wizard, or a dragon, or maybe I’ve been reading too many paranormal romances lately.
Thane shoves his hands into his pockets as though he’s afraid to touch me again while my breaths are heavy and gasping.
“To answer your earlier question, I don’t know. But I assume my father gave her very little of his time. Are you asking my permission to discuss thosethingswith her?” He smiles just a bit when he says the word things.
Ninety-nine point seven percent.
I’m in serious trouble here.
“I…I believe I am.”
“Then, Charlotte, permission granted. You may discussthingswith my sister, and you may experience them with me. My door is always open to you.”
He spins away from me then, but I can tell by his stride that he’s adjusting himself as he rounds the corner. It does nothing to calm the beast he’s ignited within me though—so it better damn well be the same for him.
When he’s out of sight, I drop my head to the hard brick and suck in a lungful of air, asking myself one more time, what the fuck was that?
By the time I compose myself, I’m not even surprised that he’s sitting in the salon, typing rapidly on his phone while Jenni practically drools over him.
I hope my libido is as active as hers is when I’m fifty.
“Thane?” The second his name leaves my mouth, all heads turn my way. I was attempting to act surprised, but that’s not the emotion that came out. This one belongs back in the alley, so I rush to his side and plop down into the chair next to him before I keel over from embarrassment.
“I told you I’d text you when we were on our way home.” Even whispering the words doesn’t keep them from Jenni’s ears. Sometimes I wonder if she has hidden hearing aids to eavesdrop on people.
Thane shrugs and keeps typing on his phone. “Rafe thought it would be a good idea if I took you two out to lunch.”
My heart skips a beat before plunging into my belly.
“Rafe thought it was a good idea?” In other words, he isn’t taking me out because he wants to—he’s taking us out. Us. Me and his baby sister.
He slowly lowers his phone to his lap and angles himself in his chair to stare at me. The weight of his gaze is making me hot in all kinds of uncomfortable places, and it’s not helped by his thick thigh that’s now pressing warmly against my own.
“Why is your face scrunched up again?”
“She thought you were asking her on a date.” Jenni quickly ducks behind the counter. She knows me well and, given another second, I might have thrown something at her.
“So that face,” he says, turning my chin back to him with one long finger, “is your disappointed face or your disgusted face?”
The chorus of “aw” that comes from the peanut gallery has me grinding my teeth.
“It’s neither. My nose itches.” I lean back far enough to dislodge his finger from my chin.
“My father did teach me one thing, Charlotte.”
“Lottie. Don’t call me Charlotte.”
This time, a wicked smile emerges victoriously on his stupidly handsome face. “You didn’t mind it in the alley.”
“I was cornered in a dark alley. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“It was neither dark, nor were you cornered. You were pressed up against the wall by my?—”
My hand slaps over his lips with a loud smacking sound, and his eyes twinkle under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Jenni sits propped up on her stool, fanning herself. “Girl, we need a girls’ night ASAP!”
