Page 42 of Dark and Dangerous

“Harlow!”

I turn, grabbing a spoon from the drawer. “I bet it tastes better than it looks.”

He watches, wide-eyed, as I dip the spoon right into the center of the “cake” and bring it to my mouth. He tries to stop me just before it hits my lips, but he doesn’t quite grasp my wrist. He knocks it instead, and next thing I know, I have ooze splattered onmy face—my nose mainly and some on my cheeks. My forehead too.

Jaw unhinged, I slowly lift my gaze to his. His lips are pressed tight, face red from his withheld laugh, and so I make a show of dipping the spoon back in the wet cake mix. Then I position the spoon like a catapult and ignore his exclamation of “No!” right before it hits him square between the eyes.

I bust out a laugh as he shakes his head, and I know what’s coming next. He doesn’t go for a spoon like I did. Instead, he uses his hand toscoopit up. “You better run.”

Squealing, I bolt around the table, using it as a barrier between us. He shakes his head, his long legs making quick work of catching up to me, but I don’t let him get too close before I’m running full speed again. This happens again and again, all while I laugh hysterically. Occasionally, he’ll switch directions, and I squeal even louder, until finally, he chuckles, catches me from behind, his arm around my waist, hand smearing the cake mix all over my face. I try to get out of his grasp, but he’s too damn strong, and he lifts me off my feet, his quiet laugh beside my ear consuming all other sounds. Legs kicking out wildly, I shout through my laughter, “Let me go!”

He does as I say, and I immediately push past him to the table, where I grab the entire cake tin and hold it up in a threatening motion. “You wouldn’t dare,” he says, eyes squinted.

“Wouldn’t I?” I scoop a handful and throw it at his chest, laughing at the way his gaze shifts down to his now stained shirt, then back up at me.

“You realize it would take me two seconds to disarm you, right?”

A bigger scoop this time, and I aim for his face. Hit it.

He wipes it from his eyes, takes one step forward. “Harlow.”

With an unrestrained giggle, I hold the tin to my chest, take one step back. “Jace.”

“Hand me the cake.”

I hold the tin tighter. “No. It’s my birthday. It’s my cake.”

“Harlow,” he says again, taking another step.

“Jace.” I attempt to follow his movement, but my back hits the fridge.

Hand out between us, he smiles through his words. “Hand me the cake, Harlow.”

Before I can react, he tugs the tin out of my grasp and throws it in the sink, and then he’s in front of me. As in, only inches away. And for the first time in what feels like forever, his eyes meet mine. A hand reaches up, cupping my jaw, and I crane my neck to keep our gaze locked.

“Harlow,” he repeats, but it’s a whisper this time, and my heart hammers against my chest. Electricity pulses through my veins when he settles a hand on my hip and moves forward just enough so our fronts touch. Fingertips pressed to my neck, his throat moves with his swallow as he runs his thumb over my lips, removing the cake mix from there. I inhale a shaky breath, hold it, and when he starts to lower his mouth to mine, I close my eyes… just as my phone rings.

I snap my eyes open in time to see Jace step back. All the way away. His hands fist at his sides, he stares down at the floor, as if his shame refuses to look at me.

Heart in my stomach, I grab my phone from my pocket, confused when I see my brother’s best friend’s name flashing on the screen. I answer, watching as Jace starts to clean up the mess we’ve made—our almost kiss included. “Hey,” I say into the phone.

“Happy birthday!” he greets.

And Ialmostsmile. “How did you know?”

“My mom told me.”

“How didsheknow?”

“I have no idea. Maybe your mom posted it on Facebook or something?”

Un-fucking-likely. “Maybe.”

Jace is wiping down the table now, his brow bunched in concentration. I don’t know if he can hear Levi, but it sure as hell looks like he’s trying to.

“Well, thanks for calling. It means a lot.”

“Of course.”

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