Page 27 of Jett in Jeopardy

I sighed and placed my phone down on the table. Was staying here for the best? I mean, I was only supposed to be a one-night stand. He was pretty clear he wasn’t looking for a boyfriend or anything more than a hook-up, at least not from me. He could say he thought I was smart and funny and hot all he wanted. None of those things were enough to make him want me for anything more than just to mess around with for a while before moving on.

Why did that bug me so much? I had sex with men all the time, and I didn’t care if they didn’t want anything serious. Hell, half the timeIdidn’t want anything serious.

The difference was I liked Brody a lot, and I had for a long time. We’d only been together a couple of times, and I couldn’t know for sure if I wanted more than what we were doing. Oh, who the hell was I kidding? Of course I knew I wanted more, or at least that the possibility of more was on the table.

Staying here with him, knowing how I felt and how he felt, was just a recipe for disaster. I should leave, just go home and figure this all out myself, but two of my friends had already been hurt by whoever the hell was stalking me. If I went back to the house, would I just be leaving my roommates vulnerable?

If that was true, maybe I shouldn’t be here either. Maybe I was putting Brody in danger, too. I watched him pour steaming water into the mugs on the counter. He was tall, broad, and muscular. His long hair, beard and scowl made him look hard, and I couldn’t imagine anyone having the balls to take him on.

Maybe because he was older and exuded confidence, I felt more at ease here with him. I noticed he hadn’t rationalized my experiences or looked for reasonable explanations when I’d told him everything. He’d believed me, and I felt safe with him.

“So,” he said, setting the mugs on the coffee table before sinking onto the couch beside me. Did he think about the last time we were on this sofa together? When he had me bare-assed and bent over the arm while his palm turned my skin hot, and I’d humped the smooth leather unabashedly.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold or stalker crept over my skin, and my cock twitched. Desperate to distract myself, I reached for the mug and took a small sip of tea. The hot liquid tasted strange.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Chamomile. I thought you might have some trouble sleeping tonight, so I avoided anything with caffeine. That was all I had.”

As if the juxtaposition of a big, tough-looking bartender making tea wasn’t enough, he’d made mechamomilebecause he was worried about me not being able to sleep. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done anything like this for me, taken care of me, which was somehow both depressing and terrifying. It would be all too easy to get used to this.

I set the mug back down on the coffee table, and when I leaned back, I caught a glimpse of Brody watching me with a faint frown.

“What?” The uneasiness was making me tense.

He drew a deep breath. “Look, I know you don’t think the police can help you, but I think you should still probably tell them about everything that’s been going on.”

“No,” I said, sharper than I meant to. I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to slow my suddenly pounding heart. I needed to get my shit together. Intellectually, I knew Brody was right. If I had a stalker, the smart thing to do was to go to the police. It wouldn’t be the same as Colorado. No one would tell me it was my own fault and accuse me of out-and-out lying—at least, I hoped not.

“Tomorrow,” I offered. “Tonight has been a lot. Can we just not talk about it anymore tonight? We can talk about it more tomorrow, and I’ll even go to the police.”

Brody leaned closer, cupping the side of my face with one hand.

It took everything I had not to throw myself into his arms and let myself melt into his strength. Instead, I stood abruptly. “Can I… Do you mind if I use your shower?”

“Sure.” Brody smirked and stood before disappearing down the hall, where I presumed he’d gone to get me a towel.

I buried my face in my hands and groaned. What the hell was wrong with me? I was stammering like some awkward schoolboy. This was not me. I wasn’t some wallflower, blushing and stuttering anytime a hot guy flashed me a smile and a warm look. I’d had a weird night but needed to pull it together now before I made a completeassout of myself.

When Brody returned, he did have a towel, as I predicted, as well as the same pajama pants I wore the last time I’d stayed here.

“Thanks.” My head nodded toward the hallway he’d just emerged from. “I’ll go.”

“I’ll be here.”

I nodded again and hurried down the hall before I acted any more awkwardly. Brody’s bathroom was plain and colorless. The walls were painted soft gray, and the tub, sink and toilet were the same white as the floor and shower walls, but it was clean and functional.

I switched on the shower spray and waited a few minutes for the water to heat. Then I peeled off my clothes and let the spray engulf me. The hot water sluiced over my skin and finally chased away the chill that had taken hold of me and refused to let go. I used Brody’s shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, lathering myself in that clean pine scent and liking it more than I probably should. It was almost like I was being enveloped by the man himself.

Me, being here, messing around with Brody, was probably a huge mistake. I didn’t see how whatever we were doing would end without me getting hurt. I should have probably gone home. But just thinking about going back to my place made me shudder. Not because I was afraid for myself, but what if Sawyer or Grier got hurt because of me?

Grier already had. Hell, Alistair had almost died in that fire. If Daniel hadn’t been there and grabbed hold of him, dragging him out of the burning building, Alistair wouldn’t be here now. Andthatwould have been my fault.

Sometimes, I wondered if maybe I’d been cursed so that anyone who made the mistake of caring about me wound up regretting it. I couldn’t remember my mother very well, but I like to believe she loved me. The memories I did have of her pointed to yes. For all the good it did her. She’d died just after my eighth birthday. My father, on the other hand, would never be in danger of a curse.

I rolled my eyes at my own nonsense and rinsed the soap off my body, pushing thoughts of my parents to the back of my mind. After all, I had more pressing matters to think about. So, going back to the house tonight was a no-go, but even if I stayed here at Brody’s, it didn’t mean that anything had to happen. I could sleep on his sofa. We could just be friends. I had the feeling that whatever happened between us next, I would have to take the lead.

He’d been clear. He was open to fucking, and that was all. The ball was in my court, so to speak. So, if I was cool with his terms, we could pick up where we left off. If not, we’d just stay friends.

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