Page 27 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

But I have a hunch.

My grip loosens on the door. I’m not quite sure where to go from here or what to do with what he just said, but I do know two things for certain:

I did have fun with him out there.

Jack Bennett just apologized to me.

“Why did you do that?” I ask, looking him right in the eye so he can see that even though I’m humiliated, I’m not a coward.

His head tilts. “Flirt with you?”

That is a question I didn’t even consider asking, and even though I desperately want that answer now, I continue with my first. “No—why did you apologize?” It goes against everything we’ve ever been to each other.

He drops his hand, and when I don’t immediately slam the door in his face, his shoulders relax. “Because I may be a lot of things, but I never want to be the kind of person who can’t apologize when I’m in the wrong. I grew up around someone who was a real dick and never said he was sorry…so, I don’t know, I just don’t want to repeat his pattern. And I was firmly in the wrong today. So again, I’m very sorry.”

Huh.Jack as a child—there’s a thought. Jack with a motorcycle. Jack with an entire life outside of school. Jack as a multifaceted human.

My gaze drops from his eyes to his neck where his sweat-dampened hair is clinging to his skin, all the way down his jacket to his hands, where his gloves were a few minutes ago. A memory of those gloved hands raising to me in an amused lazy wave flashes and I should have instinctively known it was him. Effortlessly sexy has always been his thing.

But outside of our first bad encounter on the way to class, he’snever used it on me. It was…interestingto be on this side of it without the usual bad blood flowing between us.

According to Jack, he saw an opportunity and took it. I don’t know…maybe it’s time I do the same.

“When did you get a motorcycle?”

His expression is hesitant of my abrupt change in subject, like he’s preconditioned to watch out for any unexpected grenades I might throw at him. “I’ve had it for a few years.”

“How come I’ve never seen it before?”

A bead of sweat rolls down his temple and he catches it with his forearm. “I only ride during the nice-weather months. And during the school year, my commute was too far, so I pretty much only rode on the weekends.”

I don’t like the thought of him riding that thing on the interstate. Can’t say I like the idea of him riding it at all actually. It was one thing when it was just a stranger I’d never care about but now—wait, no…I didn’t mean that I care about him.Take it back, brain!

“Have you ever ridden?” he asks, unlatching the top of the leather jacket and unzipping it before peeling it off, leaving him in only a sweaty white T-shirt and riding pants. And yep, I can confirm it was not just the pads making his body look so good—damn him.

I take a reflexive step away. “No, I have not.”

He smiles and runs his hand through his hair. “Do you want to? I have a spare helmet at my hou—”

“Absolutely not.I value my life too much to put it in your hands like that.”

His head tilts. “My hands are very competent, Emily.”

I bypass Jack’s innuendo and the funny thing it does to my stomach, and instead, I advance on him. I go out the door, backing him up until he’s forced to go down a step. We’re eye level now andI’m only inches from his face. I’ve been working through something during our idle chat, and I just made up my mind.

He looks braced for a slap and can only blink in response when I say, “I forgive you.”

Understandably Jack is silent for a long moment. This is new terrain for both of us.

“You…forgive me?” he repeats, shifting on his feet and looking between my eyes. “Is this a trap? Are you trying to lure me into passivity so you can stab me in the back when I least expect it?”

What a twisted relationship we have.

“Maybe,” I say, smiling at him over my shoulder as I go back into my house—leaving the door wide open behind me. “Or maybe I’m already holding too many grudges where you’re concerned and don’t feel like adding any more to the pile. We’ll have to wait and see, I guess.”

I don’t know what I’m doing leaving that door open. Jack doesn’t either, judging by the look on his face as he cautiously steps inside. He watches me slip out of my boots and hang my purse on the hook.

His shoulders suddenly jump, and he looks down—startled by Ducky, who is now wrapping herself around his ankle.

---