Feeling like a jerk, I dropped my head forward and felt something tickling my nose. Thinking I was getting a nosebleed because something was definitely trickling down, I leaned my head back. “Oh, Jack, Jack—paper towel. I think my nose is bleeding.”
Keeping my head tilted back, I tried to blindly find the paper towel myself. Instead, I placed my hand on what felt like his forearm and held on.
I was not good with seeing blood. I didn’t faint or anything dramatic like that, but I wouldn’t have called myself a fan of it either.
“Here,” Jack murmured, and I felt him gently cup the back of my head. “Stay still.” Then he pushed the paper towel into my hand and I curled my fingers around it.
His hand holding my head up and my hand gripping his shoulder, I held the towel up to my nose and slowly, with his help, started to straighten myself. Something definitely did run down my nose, but when I looked down at the paper, I felt like a complete moron.
My face flaming and my ears ringing, I loosened my death grip on his incredibly muscled shoulders and turned my back to him, wishing the floor would open up and I could just disappear.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice coming from right over my shoulder, his breath tickling my neck.
Dear God. I closed my eyes.
“Nothing. It’s not bleeding—false alarm,” I croaked and stationed myself back in front of the espresso machine, sniffling constantly—because something was still coming down—and trying to hide my red face the entire time.
“What’s wrong with your voice?”
The croak hadn’t been just because of my embarrassment. My throat actually did hurt a little when I swallowed, but I’d thought it was nothing when I first woke up. Add my runny nose into the mix, though, and maybe it was something more.
“My throat is hurting a little. It’s probably nothing, just a little cold.”
“Are you going to be sick?”
“No, it’s nothing. I’ll be fine for the event.” It was neither attractive nor helpful when I had to sniffle a few times right at the tail end of my sentence.
“That’s not why I asked, Rose.”
I gave him a quick look before touching the screen for the espresso. “Oh, well, still…I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ve been working too hard.”
“You work hard, too. You lock yourself in your office even after we get back here every night. What’s that got to do with anything?” I shrugged, still trying to keep my head slightly tilted back to avoid any liquid coming down my nose. “It’s probably the cold weather. I never get sick for too long. It’ll go away in a day or two.” The espresso stopped dripping, so I started steaming the milk. “Were you saying something about the event on Saturday when you first came into the kitchen?” I raised my voice so he could hear me, but he was already one step ahead of me because he had gotten even closer and was now standing right behind me.
His chest touched my back as he leaned forward and pushed something in front of me. One hand holding the milk jug in place, I looked down to see a credit card.
“What’s that?”
“My credit card.”
“I can see that. What is it for?” When the steaming was done, I swirled it for a bit so the bubbles would settle down. Pouring the espresso into the travel cups, I followed it with the steamed milk. Securing their tops, I faced Jack, waiting for his answer.
“The event is going to be a big to-do, so I’d like you to buy something appropriate for the evening.”
It was him saying things like this with that unreadable expression of his that made me not like him sometimes.
“Did I do a bad job last time? At the dinner with your partners?” I asked, avoiding his gaze.
“No. Stop putting words into my mouth.”
“Then what is this?” I pushed the credit card back toward him.
His forehead creased, and since I’d dropped my gaze from his eyes, I watched a muscle in his jaw twitch. “So you can buy a dress for an event you’re going to attend because of me. You don’t need to spend your own money. Save it for the rent you’re eventually gonna be paying me.” He pushed the black plastic back toward me.
“I can buy my own dress and pay rent, Jack.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t, Rose, but I’m saying I’d like to buy this one.”
It was the fact that I couldn’t argue further that got to me the most, I thought, that I really couldn’t afford to buy a dress that would be appropriate for someone who would be on his arm for a big charity event. We were worlds apart. If we had met under different circumstances, we would have had nothing in common. A ‘we’ wouldn’t have been a possibility. So…we really were playing pretend, and I had to get that into my head whenever I was looking into his eyes and starting to catch feelings.
No more feeling mushy when he came to the coffee shop—which happened often.
No more jumpy heart whenever he walked through the door.
No more of those excited little butterflies everyone kept talking about being all fluttery in my stomach.
This was a business deal between two adults, nothing less, nothing more.
Logically, he was right. I wouldn’t be going to such a high-profile event if it weren’t for him, so it made sense that he’d buy the dress, but I couldn’t ignore how small it made me feel around him.
“Okay, Jack.”
Without another word, I picked up the credit card.
I was more than ready to leave for work and get far away from him. I was quietly passing Jack when his hand on my arm stopped my movement. I was expecting him to ask me his favorite question: What’s wrong with you? I was trying to come up with an answer that would let me get out of the kitchen quicker when his other hand gently nudged my chin up and my surprised eyes met his. His thumb gently swiped back and forth on my jawline as if he had no control of it. Then it stopped and his hand slowly cupped my cheek.
My heart jumped in my chest—even though I’d decided mere moments ago that it wasn’t allowed to do that—and then slowly started to pick up speed as I realized I couldn’t look away from his searching eyes. My lips parted because I wanted to say his name, wanted to tell him to…not look at me so intently, as if we weren’t as fake as it got. I wanted to say I didn’t think I could take it anymore.
His expression softened, the creases on his forehead smoothing out.
“Buy whatever you want, for me.”
For him? I nodded, incapable of stringing two words together. His gaze moved across my face, pausing on my lips, and I simply forgot how to breathe. What was he doing? What witchery was this?
First you breathe out and then in. No, you need to breathe in first. You need air in your lungs first to be able to breathe out.
“Something white, maybe, or nude,” he continued, unaware of my flustered state. “You look good in those colors.”
I do?
What in the world was happening?
I tried to fire up my brain so I could think if he’d ever seen me in white, but other than maybe a white blouse I wore over my black jeans, I couldn’t think of a single outfit.
I swallowed and managed another nod.
If at that moment he had smiled at me, I was fairly certain it would have pushed me straight out of my trance because I would’ve been sure this was a copy of Jack Hawthorne—a really gorgeous one, but just a copy—but he didn’t. When I didn’t stumble after he let go of my arm, I thought I could survive anything, but then he tucked the longest part of my bangs behind my ear and started leaning toward me. He was only a tad quicker than a turtle this time, but it still gave me time to slightly lean back with widened eyes.