5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Jesse

I freeze in my tracks, the sight before me sending a surge of heat through my body, and not the good kind. Cassidy, that slick, pretty-boy, is leaning in way too close to Martin, his hand resting on Martin's forearm. Martin's polite smile doesn't reach his eyes, but Cassidy doesn't seem to notice or care, and his intentions are crystal fucking clear.

"So, there's this new place—"

I clear my throat loudly, interrupting him and purposely inserting myself between them as Martin takes a step back from the younger man.

Slimy little prick. He looks like one of those smarmy asswipes from some stupid real-estate reality show, Gazillion Dollar Listing or whatever the fuck. His overly coiffed hair and his perfectly capped, white teeth ooze counterfeit confidence, making my skin crawl. He's eyeing Martin like he's some kind of prize, and my jaw ticks audibly as I grit my teeth. If he thinks he's going to have Martin for dinner, he's got another think coming.

Cassidy straightens, shifting his gaze to me, letting his eyes drag over my body. He darts his tongue out to moisten his lips, and I have to conceal a visible shudder. Ick.

"I was just getting to know Martin here a bit better. We were discussing dinner plans. Maybe you'd both be interested in… dinner." His tone is suggestive, making me want to throttle him.

Not fucking likely.

"No, I don't think that will work." I can't keep the edge out of my voice. Who does this little fucker think he is? And seriously, talk about unprofessional. "Actually, I don't think this building is quite what we're looking for. It doesn't have the right feel for our project," I say, crossing my arms and staring him down like I'm some kind of gunslinger, daring him to make another move.

This behavior isn't like me. Normally, I'm the king of avoiding confrontation at almost all costs, but something about seeing this guy hit on Martin right in front of me makes my blood boil.

Martin looks at me, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Cassidy blinks, his demeanor changing abruptly. Yeah, you little son of a bitch. You see how it is now? Keep it in your pants, motherfucker.

"Oh, of course, of course," he stammers, glancing between Martin and me, suddenly unsure of himself . "Well, we can always keep looking. I'm sure we can find something to suit your needs."

"Thanks for your time," Martin says amicably. "We'll be in touch if we have any questions."

"Of course," he repeats.

We make our way quickly to the exit, and I watch like a hawk as he extends his hand to Martin. A low, possessive growl escapes my throat when the handshake lasts a half second too long, and I catch Martin's eye. He looks like he's trying to hold back a laugh, his green eyes twinkling.

Cassidy doesn't even bother extending a hand to me, which is probably best for his safety since I'm liable to tear his entire arm off. Instead, he gives me a watery smile and directs a halfhearted wave in my general direction before hightailing it in the direction of his white BMW like his ass is on fire.

We walk back to my car in silence, the sun beating down on us, tension thick in the air. My mind races, trying to make sense of my own behavior. Where the hell did that come from? I've never reacted like that before with anyone, not even Andrew.

A knot forms in my stomach as my ex's face flashes through my mind. All those years and I never knew. Never suspected. For the billionth time, I ask myself how I could have possibly been so blind. Anger and shame wash over me as I slide behind the wheel of my car. Has Andrew's betrayal turned me into some kind of possessive, jealous asshole? The thought makes me sick.

But mixed in with all the confusion is an unfamiliar feeling. I think I feel… powerful… Strong… I survived that confrontation, even though I hate shit like that. But I wasn't about to lie down and let myself, or someone I care for, get taken advantage of. I didn't want that guy flirting with Martin, but at the same time, it looked like Martin wasn't into it. So maybe it wasn't all jealousy. Maybe it was… protective. I don't want Martin to get hurt. Don't want him falling for some smooth-talking pretty boy who'd just use him and toss him aside. But what if I read the situation all wrong? What if Martin was interested in Cassidy and I just cockblocked him? That would make me nothing more than a jealous asshole.

"Jesse," Martin says, placing a gentle hand on my forearm. "You alright? You seem a tad off." I realize we're sitting here roasting in the hot car as I'm staring into space, my mind spinning with these unwelcome thoughts.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," I say, clearing my throat, pressing the car's Start button and cranking up the air-conditioning.

"So, um… what did you think?" I ask, not sure if I'm asking what he thought about the building or about whatever just happened with Cassidy.

"The location has potential, but we should see a few other sites before making a decision," he says. "We have time."

"Right." I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, searching for something else to say. The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. "Listen, Martin, about Cassidy… He, um, seemed pretty interested in you. I, ah… I hope I didn't screw that up for you. I mean, I don't want you to feel awkward or anything, just because we're working together or roommates or whatever…" I clear my throat awkwardly. "But, um, I kind of got the impression up there that maybe you weren't into him, and uh…" My voice trails off awkwardly.

I wait, my heart pounding as Martin stays silent. Shit. I've totally misread everything. He's pissed off. I grip the steering wheel tightly, bracing myself for his anger.

Finally, Martin speaks. "Jesse, you didn't screw anything up." His voice is soft, reassuring. The tension in my shoulders eases a bit. "I wasn't interested in Cassidy at all. To be honest, I found his flirting a bit… uncomfortable."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Oh, okay. Okay. Good."

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "Really. I appreciate you looking out for me. It means a lot."

Relief washes over me, but it's quickly followed by a surge of something else. Something hot and exciting that I'm not quite ready to name. I've never seen myself in the role of a protector before. But I think maybe I like it.

I suck in a breath, the cool air from the air-conditioning filling my lungs. "Okay. Good." I take a deep breath. I guess now is the time to tell him about my plans for the weekend. Shit, I hope he likes the idea.

"Okay, then," I say again. "I, uh, I actually have a surprise for you."

Martin turns toward me with a quizzical look. "Oh? What would that be?"

I take a deep breath. "Well, I know Richard's birthday was a tough day for you, so I thought you could use a bit of a break." I swallow before continuing, nervous as hell, for some reason. "Anyway, I thought, maybe, you might like to go to Disneyland and check out Galaxy's Edge. So I made us some reservations for this weekend at the Grand Californian Hotel and got us park tickets."

For a second, his expression is unreadable while he stares at me in silence.

Panic flares in my chest. Shit, did I go too far? Have I somehow fucked everything up by planning something so… relationshippy? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

But suddenly, the car fills with the sound of his laughter, and relief floods through me. "You're serious? We're going to Disneyland?" His eyes sparkle with childlike excitement.

I grin, nodding. "Yeah. All we've really done since you arrived is work. I want to show you California, and what better place to start than the happiest place on Earth, right?"

Martin reaches over and squeezes my arm, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "Jesse, this is brilliant. No one has surprised me like this in… forever. Thank you. Truly, thank you so much."

I glance at him, ready to bask in his excitement, but I'm shocked when I realize his eyes are glassy with unshed tears. I've never seen him vulnerable like this, not even on Richard's birthday.

My heart clenches, and I'm overwhelmed with the desire to touch him. I want to brush my thumb across his cheek and catch those tears before they fall. To pull him close and breathe him in. My fingers twitch on the steering wheel, itching to feel his skin under them.

I drop my eyes to his lips, and I'm hit with a vivid memory of how they felt against mine that night in Seattle. Soft, warm, eager. He tasted of whiskey and lust and something uniquely Martin. My mouth goes dry, and I have to swallow hard.

The air in the car is thick, and every cell in my body is screaming at me to lean over and kiss him. I'm dying to see if the intensity of that night in Seattle was real or if it was just some alcohol-fueled fantasy that I've been nurturing for all these months.

Now, though, there's more than just physical attraction between us. There's something about Martin that makes my feelings run deeper, making me want more than just sex. His wit, his compassion, the way he listens like every word I say matters. I want to peel back all his layers, to know every secret, every fear, every dream. I want to know all about his past, and I desperately want to be part of his present. And, maybe, part of his future.

I force myself to look away, gripping the steering wheel so tightly, my knuckles go white. My heart beats so loudly he can probably hear it banging into my ribcage.

It wouldn't work. It would be silly to try it. We decided to leave things as friends, and that's fine. It's fine. We're working together. It wouldn't be professional. The list of reasons I shouldn't lean in and kiss him runs on a loop through my head.

The problem is none of the reasons currently running through my mind seem to be anywhere near as powerful as my desire to feel him pressed up against me again.