Chapter 13

Shay

Why can’t he be mine? How am I going to love another man after being loved by this man?

He doesn’t have to say it for me to comprehend that he believes he’s in love with me.

“Where are we going?”

“Do you like po’boys?”

“You mean, we’re not just going to Twins?”

“Is that where you’d prefer dinner?”

“I kind of assumed it was the only place you ever ate at.”

He sighs. “I thought it might be nice to get to know each other without the interruptions.”

“You mean your sweet butts.”

“Sweet butts?”

I roll my eyes. “I know that’s not what you call them, but you’ve got to admit Circe, Daphne, and the others all act like sweet butts.”

“I don’t understand. What is a sweet butt?”

“I know you’ve never read a motorcycle club romance, but are you telling me you’ve never seen Sons of Anarchy?”

He shrugs. “I watch little TV.”

“How can you not watch TV?”

“I never think about it. At the end of the workday, I train in the evening. After a shower, I head over to the bar to unwind. And before the night ended, well, you know.”

“What about since you met me?” I ask without looking at him.

“I’m finally getting eight hours of sleep.” He adds that damn wink.

Jayce pulls into a parking space at a hole-in-the-wall place called Off the Hook in Thibodeaux.

“Is this okay, or do you want to go into New Orleans where there’re more choices?”

I open my door without answering him before he can jump out and make me wait for him to do it.

We race to the door of the restaurant. His long legs will beat me every time, but I won’t surrender to the outdated practice without a fight.

Inside, I’m dreading not grabbing my favorite chunky cardigan. The thermostat on the wall reads sixty-one. What the frick?

I read the menu at the counter, chattering my teeth. At least the food sounds amazing.

I order the chipotle fried shrimp wrap and onion rings. Jayce gets the fried shrimp po’boy.

Goosebumps form on my skin and I shiver. He takes his coat off and drapes it over my shoulders. Normally, I’d shove it back at him. Why should he suffer instead of me? But it’s like I’m standing in a refrigerator.

“If you want to wait outside, we can take our food to go. I know where there are picnic tables under live oaks.”

I nod. Jayce hands me the keys to his truck. “Thank you.”

He waits for our order while I step out into the muggy heat.

Darn it all. He’s sexy when he walks toward me. His eyes hone in on mine. I know the wink is coming, and that I should look away because the simple gesture ignites my loins every time. I must be a glutton for punishment because I don’t look away, and he doesn’t fail to disappoint me.

I wait for him to open the door. My feminist side protests, but the gooey side of me enjoys his chivalry. Once we are both sitting in the truck, he hands me our dinner so he can drive.

I didn’t plan on relinquishing the bag when I got out of the vehicle, but he gave me no choice.

I still wore his jacket. No longer freezing, I slip out of it and try handing it to him. “Would you mind hanging it on the hanger in the backseat?”

By the time I finish, Jayce already has everything pulled out of the bag.

I stop and admire him in his crisp white button up sitting on the bench, waiting for me. I get lost imagining unfastening each button one at a time.

Watching him shed his clothes before his shift last night added more fuel to my broken vagina. The distance kept me from getting a clear view of his assets, though.

I don’t know how long I stood there staring before I shook myself out of the lust induced stupor.

Jayce stares back with an ear-splitting grin across his face. Clearly certain where my head had gone to.

I slip onto the bench across from him with unknown shades of red highlighting my skin..

“I ordered your books last night.”

I raise my gaze. Is he serious? “You didn’t have to. I could have given you copies.”

“If I have to wait around for you to bring me a copy, I have a feeling it might be a long wait.”

I hold my head up high. “For your information, I packed both of them for you when we were at my apartment.”

He pops a fry into his mouth. I could slap the smirk from his face. “But you didn’t give them to me.”

He’s right. I had no intention of voluntarily handing them over. But I don’t want him to know that.