Page 11 of Holiday Scars
Dirk’s jaw eases a little, but not much. “Yeah, I know. I just didn’t expect she’d show up like this. Maybe we should find a place in town.”
“No. Look, if Jett’s really not cool with it, he and I will work it out. We’re grown men. Besides, there’s always the couch.”
“Right.” Dirk nods, then his mood lifts. “Hana and I are gonna grab dinner in town. Then play some pool.”
“Want company?” I ask quickly.
“Sure, be ready in five,” he says with a punch to my arm.
When he’s gone, I knock on the bathroom door. “Jett, Dirk and Hana are grabbing food in town. Let’s go with them. Be out in five, yeah?”
No answer. Just the water shutting off.
Five minutes turns to ten, then fifteen. When Hana’s stomach growls, I stand up, ready to tell them to go without us, but Jett’s footsteps sound down the hallway.
In a tight black button-down shirt and dark jeans, boots, his hair slicked back, jaw rough with stubble, my legs go weak. Fuck, does he always look this good?
“Let’s not make it a late one,” I suggest. “We had a tough gig last night.”
And your brother almost drowned.
“Sure.” Dirk grabs the keys to Hana’s BMW and pinches her ass when she saunters out the door.
Outside, Jett looks terrified to sit alone in the backseat with me. But that text and his moaning my name in the shower set off a launch sequence no one can abort.
And I don’t want it to.
We get to the town grill and shove into a booth not made for men our size. We order drinks and appetizers, and thankfully, Hana does most of the talking. Her new case is the one she thinks will finally get her the votes she needs to make partner next year. Her dark, sleek hair falls over her shoulders, catching the light every time she laughs.
It reminds me of Jett’s with the same blue-black depth of color and the same careless way it falls into his eyes.
God help me.
Under the table, my leg brushes Jett’s. Once. Then again. But he doesn’t move.
So, I take a chance. I slide my hand to his thigh, light enough that if he wants to pretend it isn’t happening, he could talk himself out of it.
He goes absolutely rigid, his breath shallow, but he doesn’t pull away. Or shuck my hand off him. When I glance right, his eyes are already on me.
There it is. Everything he isn’t telling me. Written right there in his gray eyes. Confusion. Regret. But underneath, hunger.
I almost forget to breathe.
After we finish eating, the bill comes, but Hana snags it before anyone else can. “My treat,” she says, handing over a black card. “For crashing your boys’ weekend.”
I catch Jett trying to sneak some money on the table, but I stop him with a hand firmer between his legs. “I’ve got it,” I say quietly. “I’ve got...you.”
For a heartbeat, Jett just looks at me. The moment suddenly feels like more than either of us knows what to do with.
He finally stands, slow and thoughtful, and I slide out and rise, too. Unable to keep staring, I force myself to turn and follow Dirk and Hana, but feel Jett’s eyes watching me.
The air outside is cold enough to worry about frostbite, but the local pool hall is just a few doors away from the grill. Following the happy couple, I keep bumping Jett’s shoulder.
“Narrow sidewalk,” I say when he looks at me.
He stops and pulls me aside. “Cut it out.”
“Cut what out?” I tease him.
