Page 80 of The Love Bandits

“Um, Anthony is technically holding the tea,” I say, caught off-guard. “Plus, Joy thinks Jake’s a therapist.”

Jake shrugs, his knee glancing off mine under the table, sending awareness shooting through me. My whole body feels attuned to him—like it’s waiting for him to finish what I’ve kept him from doing.

“So does Anthony,” he says. “If anything, it supports my cover, and I’ve always liked Joy. She loves giving out free medical advice. Following it would probably kill me, but I appreciate the effort.” Nodding to Rosie, he says, “I’ll text him about it.”

She smiles. “You won’t regret it.”

I’m not so sure about that, but Rosie looks lighter than she has in days, so I let it go.

“You up for doing the dishes, Declan?” Jake asks. Claire looks at me from across the table and pats a hand over her heart.

My friends head out not long afterward, Claire promising she’ll have the cookies ready in time to give Peter his terrible surprise.

And, just like that, Jake and I are alone together again.

After the front door closes behind them, he reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear, the way he did earlier.

“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you for being so great with them. It…” I feel choked up all of the sudden, emotion pushing up from the well of my stomach. “It means a lot to me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says, his hand cupping my jaw. His thumb moves softly over my skin. It feels deliciously good, and I want to scream at myself. Why did I stop him again last night? Why have I been torturing both of us? It may only have been a week since the first time I cut us off, but it feels like seven desert-dry months rather than days.

“I like them,” he says. “And even if I hadn’t, I would’ve kept it to myself becauseyoulike them.”

“So maybe you were lying,” I say, then immediately regret it when a hurt look crosses his face and he lowers his hand.

“I want you to trust me, but I know that’s probably impossible because of who I am.”

“I don’t even know your last name.”

He peers at me in the dim lighting of the foyer. “I don’t know yours.”

I laugh, amused by this—by how much has passed between us without even the most basic information changing hands. “Catlan.”

His gaze narrows. “You’re joking.”

More laughter spills from me. “I’m not. And Professor X is the first pet I’ve ever had. My parents wouldn’t let me get one because they thought animals were a bad investment.”

“Charming.”

“Right?” I pause, waiting for him to offer up his name.

He shakes his head. “Do you think you’d know me any better if I told you the last name of the mother who abandoned me?”

I suck in a breath and grab his bicep, feeling a soul-deep need to comfort him. To show him that I’m here, even if our lives are only destined to intersect for this strange, stolen blip in time. “I’m sorry. I guessed it was something like that, but I didn’t really know.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insists. This time I can tell he’s lying, but he shakes it off and adds, “It’s like I said. I had Ryan, and we went to the same foster homes. It was fine.”

“Still. I’ll send her some cookies if you change your mind.”

He laughs humorlessly. “I’m not sure even Nicole and Damien could find her.”

“They can find anyone,” I say, but the look in his eyes suggests he doesn’t see this as good news.

“I wouldn’t want them to.”

He presses his hand over mine, still planted on his arm, and then he tugs it away, softening the sting by lifting it to his lips and kissing it. It’s a soft kiss, his lips landing just below myknuckles, nothing like the fever that took hold of us last night, and there’s something sad in his eyes.

“Goodnight, hellcat.” He brushes his thumb over my knuckles and then releases me. “It was a good day. One of the best. Let’s kick its ass with tomorrow.”

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