Page 50 of The Wrong Promise

What do I say to him?

The first thing I see is a shirtless Jobe in the kitchen. I can’t help but stare at his broad, muscular back. Jobe in jeans… it’s as though he has peeled a layer back, showing me a rawer version of himself. A version my stupid hormones adore because my stomach flips in excitement. Shit.

He spins and sees me. “Evening, Zara. You’re just in time.” He focuses on flipping vegetables in the frypan.

I can’t help but watch as he holds the pan, his muscles flexing in his arm as he gently shakes it, tossing the vegetables. It’s something so simple yet it lights a fire in my body. “It smells good.” It’s so good that I’m drawn to sit on a stool by the counter and drop my bag on the floor. “What are you cooking?”

“Ahh, my secret recipe.” He rounds the counter and takes my hand in a handshake of sorts. “I apologize for my behavior before I left. I treated you poorly, and it was unacceptable.”

I smile at him. “I appreciate your saying so. But if we’re going to spend time together, it’s best we don’t fight.”And for the love of God, put some clothes on.

He gives me a nod and lets go of my hand. Immediately, I feel the space between us.

“We’re different, and that’s okay,” I say in an attempt to explain why we butt heads.

He turns to me and leans both elbows on the counter until his face is close to mine. Unable to look away, those dark eyes make me his prisoner. “Different in a good way or bad?” he asks.

“Good, I guess.” I back up, needing to create space. “You’re different.”

“Different to you?”

I nod. “Very different to me.”

“It sounds like a bad thing?” he says in a low, deep voice. “I think we need to be honest with each other.”

“You sometimes make me uneasy.” He frowns. “Nervous. You’re a lot.”

He grins at me. “Part of me is.” That deserves an eye roll. “I don’t want to be that person to you. We’re friends, right?”

“Friends?” I raise my eyebrows. “Is that what we are?”

He reaches out and takes my hand in a gentler way than before. “Do you want to be friends?”

My breath quickens along with my heart rate. What is he asking me? “Of course, I want to be friends with you. Your brother is married to my best friend, so it makes sense for us to be nice to each other.”

He holds my gaze as though he’s waiting for me to say more. He pushes up off the counter and walks around to me. “This is me being nice.” He unrolls the tie on the counter. “May I?”

“This is the part where I get nervous.” My voice quivers, and my damn heart won’t slow down, sending my senses into overdrive.

“Relax, I’m going to blindfold you and give you a taste. I want you to guess what you’re eating.”

Oh no, no, no.His tie around my eyes sends the wrong message, diverting my stomach and straight down to my pussy.

“You’re going to feed me?” I squeak. Warmth creeps up my neck. I’m losing control here, and I need to be in control around Jobe. “It’s random, especially for you.”

“Not random. Spontaneity is not my friend.”

“Iknow,” I say, exaggerating the word. “It’s why this is random.”

“I planned the four courses this morning. Considered how to make it fun.”

Fun? It is… seductive. “Okay. If I’m out of my comfort zone, then I think you should also be tested.”

“I cooked the food, Zara.”

“Not that. I’m going to ask you a question with every dish. You have to answer honestly. I can’t see you, so I won’t be able to tell if you’re lying, but I’ll hear it in your voice.” He ties the soft material over my eyes, and I take a slow breath through my nose, though it does nothing to calm me. “This doesn’t count as one, but…” my breath hitches because this feels an awful lot like foreplay, “… have you done this with other girls before?”

His answer doesn’t come quickly, causing my body to tense. “No…” He pauses, and while his answer should bring relief, I’m still on edge.

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