Page 26 of Baby for My Billionaire Rival

I slide my hands further up her back, pressing her front to mine. Locking her right where I want her.

“Jake…” she whispers.

“Yeah?”

Caroline pulls back, and places the pads of her fingers on my cheek, too nervous for a whole hand.

Yes, yes, yes…

“We shouldn’t,” she says, tearing her eyes from mine.

No, no, no…

“I like you,” Caroline explains. “A lot.”

“I like you too.”

“But likea lot,” she reiterates. “You know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” I’m familiar with the school playground lingo for a crush. That feeling of like-like. That feeling of like-a-lot.

Caroline swallows, dropping both her hands into her lap. I’m not willing to let go of her, not yet. “But we have the program and, you know, we’ve just been spending a lot of time together. I’m sure with space it will get easier not to feel…”

Say it. Feel what?

“Confused,” she says firmly.

Not the word I was looking for. But I’ll take it. I pry my hands off her and retreat back to my corner of the couch like nothing ever happened. “I totally agree,” I lie.

Caroline, though, smiles. I don’t want her to smile because we can’t have each other. That breaks my heart. I didn’t know I was capable of having my heart broken after the way Dad’s death shattered it. “Good, I’m glad. That makes this easier.”

“Totally.” I bounce my knee nervously. This conversation has to be over or I might scream. I reach for the laptop. “How about I do a couple checks of the presentation while you relax or something, huh?”

She pulls on her sleeves anxiously. “Sure. I can order us some dinner.”

Last thing I need right now is to share dinner with Caroline Gladstone when she’s just broken my heart. “Yeah, sounds great. Get whatever, I’ll eat anything.”

Caroline retreats to the kitchen to make her call while I stare at the slide she left off on. It reads:Why Gladstone and Simmons Make the Perfect Team.

Yeah, fuck you too, universe.

Chapter 9

Caroline

“Iam still in awe. Inawe,” Amy says, her hand glommed onto my arm as we walk into Paulette’s Tavern, a classic haunt for Coastal Crest College.

I roll my eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am not! I mean, no one produced a presentationhalfas good as yours.”

We follow the stream of our classmates into the bar, immediately filling the establishment to the gills. We’ve just finished up our end-of-semester presentations, which is an evening affair for all the students and business school faculty.

Now that we’re finished, it’s time to drink.

“Not to mention, Dean Gorman stopped taking notes halfway through he was so engrossed.”

I flush. “You and Schwartz’s was great too.”

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