Page 50 of Sweet and Salty

“Not everyone,” I grumble. Despite my best efforts, I scroll down to look at the hateful comments again.

“Don’t listen to those comments, Laura.” Now Daphne’s voice is soft and reassuring. “It’s just Chris being a dick.”

“You’re right.” I don’t sound convinced. “There’s nothing more dangerous than a wounded white man with a keyboard.”

“Yeah, except one who also has access to firearms.” Daphne’s tone is sharp. “Not that Chris would know which end of one to hold. Sorry. It’s a hazard of the job.” She’s been covering ER shifts for the last few months while one of her colleagues is on maternity leave, and it’s clearly affecting her. Daphne snorts. “I really need more sleep. Come visit me in Chicago. Please? We need to go shopping. I found a new barcade that is the epitome of awesome, and there’s this guy who keeps asking me out, and if I have a friend come visit, I can use that as an excuse not to go out with him.”

“I’d love that. Let me look at my schedule.”

“Okay. Love you, Laura. Go bang Hard-Bodied Hardware Hottie and then please tell me all about it. I’m in a mega dry spell. It’s been, like, three weeks.”

“I’ll get right on that.” We say our goodbyes and I press the red button on my phone screen.

“Good morning,” Jesse says behind me. I nearly leap out of my seat, sending my laptop sliding across the kitchen table. He catches it with one hand.

“Hi.” I attempt standing, but I sit on the tie of my robe, and now it’s caught in the rungs of the back of the chair. My robe accidentally slips open, exposing one of my breasts, still reddened from his beard the night before. “Oops.” I cover my nip slip quickly. “That’s not something you want to see.”

“I beg to differ.” Jesse takes my hand and pulls me to standing, but instead of reaching for my body, he wraps his arms around me and holds me close to him. “You’re beautiful in the morning. You’re beautiful all the time.” He kisses the top of my head, and seriously, the nearness of him is enough to make me wish I’d eaten because I’m definitely going to swoon. “How are you feeling?”

Heavenly. But I’m not supposed to be clingy. I’m supposed to be One Night Stand Girl. “Okay. Great.”

“Okay great? Ouch.” He pulls away slightly to look down at me, then wraps me in his cozy hug again. The man is a world-class champion hugger. He might not have looked like it, but if I could figure out how to mechanize this hug, I’d be a bajillionaire.

I blush, because of course I do. “Last night was amazing. But I know we said it was only the one time.”

“Three, but who’s counting?”

Oh, right. He did wake me up around four in the morning and ravish me in a way that could only be described as holy-fuck-I-didn’t-think-this-really-existed-and-now-you-have-ruined-me-for-other-men. Not to be dramatic or anything. But he did bring me a bowl of caramel fudge frozen custard afterward, and I nearly came again when the ice cream melted in my mouth.

My entire body blushes harder, if that’s even possible. “Right. But it’s the morning. Things are different now.”

“I guess.” He glances down. “I shouldn’t have hugged you. I should have asked first. I’m sorry.”

“No! Please don’t stop. It feels incredible.”

And he doesn’t. So I don’t, either. We stay locked together, just holding one another in my kitchen while the morning rays slant through the windows. I want to stay this way forever. But how can I when I don’t know what kind of bad boy he is? There’s a very wide gap between serial killer and occasional litterer.

“Tell me something true,” I say, and instantly regret it from the way he stiffens.

But he doesn’t let go. “I really like you.”

Despite all the warning bells clanging in my head, it feels way too good to hear him say that. Like waking up to the smell of fresh cinnamon buns and bacon. “Something about you.”

“I don’t have any siblings.” He kisses the top of my head again. “I lived with my grandmother after my parents died. She raised me. She was an incredible woman, like you.”

“How did they die?” Seriously, I wish I could have cut out my own tongue. Way to make the mood sexy. There will never be a reprise of last night now.

He swallows and holds me tighter. “Overdose. Oxy. My dad got into it after he got hurt on a neighbor’s farm and then a football injury that didn’t heal right, and he got my mom hooked.”

“That’s awful.” I thought Ma’s death had been traumatic, but for Jesse to go through something like that at such a young age? Not to mention the stigma that must have followed him, despite it not being his fault. “You were so young. What an awful thing to go through.”

“I’m not going to lie, it sucked. But my grandma was great. She made me keep my head down, getting my schoolwork done so I could get a good job. I just regret she didn’t live long enough for me to pay her back. I had this whole plan, where I was going to surprise her and pay off her mortgage and all her husband’s old credit card debts.” He shudders against me. “She died the week before I was going to send in the final payments.”

I don’t know what to do. Grief is something I manage, but not like this. Not where I feel his pain in the way he moves, the way he holds me, the way he breathes. It’s more intimate than getting railed simultaneously by his cock and the vibrator.

So I kiss him on the cheek, soft and light.“I’m sure she loved you, and I’m positive they are all so proud of the man you’ve become.”

Pulling away, he stares at me, his head tilted, as if assessing how genuine I’m being.

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