And there it is.
My chin drops…maybe if I look closely enough at the floor, I’ll be able to see that heart of mine dissolving into our matted excuse for carpet.
“Oh. Guess I am.” Could I sound any more pathetic? “Jax has to come with us, by the way. Hope that’s okay.”
And if it isn’t, door’s right there, bucko. Feel free to let yourself out.
Jax huffs and rolls his eyes. “I told him already.” He turns off the game and television, then comes over and stands in front of me. “Can we go now, please, Rico?”
That’s when it hits me: I’ll have to pay for his movie ticket. I set aside a little money from this week’s paycheck so I could pay for myself, but it’s not enough for Jax too.
See? Disaster.
Zan comes over and holds his keys out to Jax. “How ’bout you go on out to the Jeep and get it warmed up for us, little dude? You can even sit in the driver’s seat.”
“Cooooool!” Jax takes the keys and rushes out the door.
Which leaves me alone with Zan-the-(clearly unimpressed)-Man.
I reach to tuck my hair behind my ear, remember Mama doing it, and instantly feel like the world’s biggest jackass. Stupid boots and tights and dress and jacket and makeup and hair.
“You might wanna go on out…not sure letting Jax start your truck is a good idea.”
“Ah, he won’t be able to start it at all.” And then he’s stepping closer. “Won’t crank unless the clutch pedal is down.”
Oh.
“Just didn’t want the kid to hear me say how incredible you look.”
Well then. I clear my throat. “Thanks.”
While I stand there blushing and surely emitting the fragrance of girl-scared-witless like some freshly unfolded tulip, Zan looks me over from head to toe. Reeeeeeeally slowly.
Am I even wearing clothes right now, because it certainly does not feel like it, goodness.
His eyes finally reconnect with mine and he smiles as he raises my hand to his lips.
I have nothing at all to say.
* * *
—
No clue what movie we saw because the only thing I was conscious of during the entire one hundred and seventeen minutes was Zan Macklin’s bare forearm against mine on our shared armrest.
Afterward wasn’t much better: Zan insisted on buying Jax and me loaded sundaes from the adjacent gourmet ice cream shop—this was after he insisted on paying for our movie tickets and the extra-large popcorn and box of Tropical DOTS Jax wanted—and the whole time we were there, all I could focus on was his interaction with Jax. Whether or not I wind up “falling in love” (whatever that means) with the guy, it’s obvious the baby brother I love more than my own life already has.
And it’s clearly mutual. Zan looks at Jaxy like he designed the solar system.
None of this is helping.
Now we’re pulling into the space next to Mama’s truck in front of the apartment, and I really don’t want him to leave. I try to sneak a peek at him, but he’s already staring at me.
We both smile.
How did I get here? From running to hide when he came into the store to goo-goo eyes in the front seat of the Tonka? That’s not to mention the road trips and random people and visits to strange houses we—
OH!
“Oh my gosh, I almo—”
“I need to ask you something,” he says at the exact same time.
We both blush and look away.
Absurd.
“You first,” he says.
I look over my shoulder at Jax, who is passed out in the backseat.
“Mmmm…I should probably get him into the house. You mind waiting a few minutes? I’ll come right back out.”
Zan snorts. Kills the ignition. “You really think I’m gonna let your gorgeous self carry that sack of potatoes?”
Before I can object, he’s out of the car, opening the back door, and carefully extracting my brother from his Jeeply den of slumber.
Unfortunately, when we reach the apartment, and I get the deadbolt unlocked, I try to turn the knob and discover that it’s locked too. And there’s no keyhole for the knob-lock on the outside.
So I’ll have to knock.
Which, unless I can convince him to give me Jax and head back to the Jeep (unlikely, though I certainly intend to try), means Stacia Danger is about to meet Alexander Macklin.
“I can handle it from here if you want to head back to the car. My mom’s gonna have to come open the door since it’s locked from the inside.”
“Awesome!” He shifts Jax to his shoulder and knocks.
**Minor freak-out**
Mama opens the door, leans into the jamb, and crosses her arms. “So you’re him, huh?”
Oh God.
“You didn’t tell me he was a white boy, Rico.”
OH. GOD. “Mama!”
“Alexander Macklin, ma’am.” He extends a hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Her eyebrows furrow and she turns to me. “Did he just say Macklin? As in Macklin Ente—”
“Yep. Can we bring Jax in?”
“Certainly explains the new toys—”
“I need to talk to Alexander alone for a minute.”
Mama eyeballs the bejesus out of Zan, and his face creeps crimson. He’d left before she got home on the day he came to hang out with Jax post–doctor house call, and while Mama knew that the prescription came from “my friend Zan’s sister-in-law,” I never mentioned his last name.
This is exactly why.
“Here, give the kid to me,” she says.
He does.
“You have until midnight, Rico.” Looks back at Zan. “Mr. Macklin, it was nice to meet you.” Why does everybody Mister him? “Thank you for…” She looks him up and down and forces a smile. “Everything.”
The door shuts.
“Okay then…,” Zan says.
“Don’t mind her. Back to the car?”
“Sure.”
We go. He helps me in as usual, and once his door is closed, he turns to me. “I had a really nice time tonight, Danger.”
I smile. Sigh. “Me too, Zanny Zan.”