Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

"He who holdsthe queso makes the rules, my darling." My attempt at an evil villain snarl is an epic fail, but it makes Jill laugh and relaxes the heavy tension still choking us.

There's an ease with Jill that I've never found with anyone else. As much as the two years of cold showers and late-night fantasies has sucked, the time hasn't been wasted. I know this woman. I know what makes her laugh. What makes her sad. How to cheer her up when she's got the blues. The way to tease her out of them.

I also know whatever's scaring her about us isn't anything I can drag out of her. In all the time I've known her, she's never gone on a single date. And I'd know, because her refusal to hook up with any of the pricks brazen enough to ignore my obvious warnings to keep away from her is all that's kept me sane on the sidelines.

Is it a dick move to cockblock Jill's prospects every chance I get? You can count the fucks I give on one hand and have a fistful of none left.

The way I figure it, if a single one of those guys was as serious about her as I am, no warning on earth would stand in their way. Knowing Jill, she'd probably be irritated if she knew about my high handedness. She's never noticed though, which tells me she didn't have any interest in the guys trying to flirt with her. I have no regrets.

"What do you want from me, Tate? Really?" I hear the vulnerable note. It shouldn't surprise me, but damn, if I'm not rocked to realize she's not always boldly self-confident.

I never want my Jill to wonder what she means to me, and it kills me to realize she has for all this time. I'm ashamed for so passively accepting she wasn't interested in me, even though chemistry so often blazed between us.

"I don't want to take anything from you. I want to give to you. Share with you. Be for you." Fuck, I'm not even making sense. I shake my head and issue a silent demand to pull myself together.

Jill's silent through my rambling, but there's no missing the laughter dancing in her warm brown eyes. My word vomit doesn't bother her. I've never been one for flowery speeches or poetic claims. She knows I'm more likely to put my foot in my mouth than to dance through a complicated conversation.

"What's so funny, huh?" I don't pull the villainous snarl bit again, but the growly inflection brings the laughter from her eyes to her lips.

"It's wildly inappropriate, I know, but I almost said, ‘that's what he said' when you said you want to give to me." And that right there is the Jill I know. My Jill.

Silly. Capable. Sexy and a loyal friend. With the air finally clear between us, rumors and misconceptions laid to rest, it feels as if the world is moving at warp speed. Is it too soon to pop the question?

I give myself another mental order to settle down. Just because she's admitted to being interested in me, it doesn't mean she's ready for me to declare my undying love. This isn't a romcom, and I'm no Hollywood leading man. I need to slow things down. Romance her. Prove I'm serious about how I feel for her and that she can trust me not to hurt her or wreck our friendship.

"Have dinner with me." Did I mention I'm not the poetic type? I rub my hand over the back of my neck, the rough catch and scrape of my calluses distracting me from my fumbled demand.

"Kind of already trying to have dinner with you, but you're being a queso dictator, Tater-head." She calls me that when she wants to be irritating. Little does she know, she can call me whatever ridiculous nickname imaginable, and it won't faze me at all.

"Good. Then this counts as our first date. And it's lunch, not dinner. So dinner. Tonight." If I put enough command into the words, that makes them automatically true.

"Can't tonight. The speed dating event. Remind me again why I even agreed to it? The smutty trivia night was such a better idea," she grumbles.

"Still, you gotta eat, and the whole point of the speed dating round is that it's done in an hour. Leave the twins to work the bar afterward, and come out with me. You deserve a break." The college kids who work the bar and serve the cocktail tables are fraternal twins and more than capable for a night.

"You're really sure about this, then? You want to date me?" Hesitation softens her voice to a near whisper, and I fight not to let her worry make me waver.

Jill's uncertain the feelings we've been hiding for all this time are strong enough to go the distance. That's fine. I'm sure enough for the both of us. I can be patient. Okay, I can try to be patient.

Eventually, Jill Elders will realize we don't need time to date and fall in love. We've been unofficially dating since we met.