Page 7 of Jett in Jeopardy

“Is this your place?” My voice croaked as if I hadn’t used it in years.

“It would be pretty weird if I was making breakfast in someone else’s house,” he said, turning back to the stove and flipping a pancake in the pan before turning back to me. “How are you feeling?”

“Confused,” I told him, honestly. “Did we fuck?”

“No!” The look of horror on Brody’s face at the mere suggestion that we’d been together might have been comical, except that the idea he was so repulsed by me was.

“Okay, well, that feels like an overreaction.”

“You were really wasted last night,” Brody said. “I’m not going to have sex with you when you can’t even form words.”

“Oh, so why am I here?”

“It was too late to get one of your roommates to pick you up last night. I figured I’d let you sleep it off here.”

Perfect. I’m sure he was really impressed by having to haul my drunk ass out of the bar and up to his apartment. I must have been a mess.Actually, I didn’t remember drinking all that much, really. I had that Oceanwind at the bar. I must have had more when I was dancing with Sam, but I couldn’t really remember.

“Thanks,” I said. “What happened to my clothes?”

Brody turned back to the stove, flipping the pancake again. “You threw up on yourself while I was bringing you up here.” My face burned, and I desperately wanted the floor to open and swallow me whole. It didn’t, so Brody continued. “After I cleaned you up, I gave you those to wear. Don’t worry, I didn’t look when I changed your clothes. Your stuff is washed and folded over there.” He used the spatula to point to the stack of clothes on the coffee table in front of the dark leather sofa, my phone next to the stack of clothes.

“Okay, thanks. And I’m sorry for throwing up and being such a mess.” So much for getting my shit together. Not a great start, so far. “I’ll get dressed and get out of here.”

God, Brody must have thought I was such a loser. No wonder he avoided me when he could.

Before I could grab my clothes to go change, he pointed the spatula at one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “Sit. I made you something to eat, and there’s coffee if you want it.”

He swung the spatula at the drip coffee maker on the counter.

“Yeah, I want it,” I said, my need for caffeine eclipsing my abject humiliation. “Thanks.”

He opened the cupboard, took down a plain white mug and handed it to me. I poured my own coffee and added milk before sitting down in the chair he indicated. The urge to run and hide, knowing I’d made a total ass of myself, was almost overwhelming, but I couldn’t make myself do it.

After all this time with Brody barely acknowledging me, I was here, in his apartment, drinking coffee in his kitchen, and he was making me pancakes. It would be rude to just cut and run now.

I propped my elbows on the table, holding my coffee with both hands. “You really didn’t have to go to this kind of trouble for me. I could have just grabbed something from the cafe on my way home.”

Brody snorted. “Coffee probably would have been better, but these should be good.” He set a plate down with a stack of four pancakes that I would never manage to eat in one sitting before dropping into the chair opposite me. “You’re probably starving after last night.”

I was, but I hated to think about last night and being so out of control. I’d thrown up on myself and couldn’t even remember doing it now. Shoving down the shame, I mustered up a flirty smile.

“You know,” I said, tossing my hair back from my face. “If you’d have served me breakfast in bed, I could have thanked you for all your help.”

Brody scowled and shook his head, hacking at his pancakes with his fork.

“Wow, youreallyare not into me,” I said, setting my coffee cup down and turning my attention to the food in front of me.

“Why do you think that?” he asked, before shoveling the food into his mouth.

I shrugged, pretending his blatant rejection didn’t bother me. “Um… maybe because every time I try to flirt with you, you glare at me or roll your eyes.”

He looked up from his plate and pinned me with his dark gaze. “Maybe because you’re notreallyflirting with me.”

“I’m not sure if I’m being too subtle, but I can promise you, I was flirting.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Brody said, taking a drink from his own coffee. “You use it as a distraction.”

“Are you seriously psychoanalyzing me over breakfast?”

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