Page 82 of Tempt Me

“NowI’m wondering how to get you out of my house.”

“You are not.” I leaned forward. “You like me.” I kissed her, a soft brush of our lips.

“Maybe I do.” She spun a wayward lock of my hair around her finger.

“Okay. I’ll text my mother that I’ve changed my plans.” Spending more time with Jamila like this, in our happy bubble, was worth risking my mother’s disappointment.

“You will?” She leaned forward and laid a lingering kiss on my lips.

“Yeah. Since it’s a holiday weekend, we can come back here after and hang out?”

“You got it. We’ll chill with Quill.”

“Or…” I snuggled into the warm sheets. “We could skip breakfast and stay in bed.”

“Nope. Get up. My girl likes to eat breakfast. The place we’re going gets crowded if you get there too late.”

“Fine. I’ll need a minute to do my hair though.”

“Only a minute. You know I don’t care about all that.”

That was a lie. I knew Jamila cared about appearances. I was glad I packed a dress. When I walked into the kitchen half an hour later, she whistled.

“You like it?” I twirled, letting the skirt flare out around my thighs.

“I do. Though I might be tempted to ruck it up at the restaurant.”

“At breakfast? You wouldn’t!” Though the thought of her touching me in public—heck, the thought of being Jamila Jallow’s girlfriend in public—made my heart race.

“Nah. I wouldn’t. But all bets are off on the drive home.” She tugged on my braid. I’d made a long one down my back as an ironic callback to what she’d said about pigtails yesterday. “I also can’t guarantee I won’t pull on this while I finger you.”

“Yes, please,” I said, my voice breathy.

“Let’s get going, then.”

The drive was longer than I expected, almost all the way to San Francisco. Jamila parked near a standalone building in the parking lot of a strip mall in the south suburbs.

“Must be a five-star breakfast to be worth this drive,” I said.

“Cooper recommended it. Nothing but the best for my girl.” She leaned over and kissed my temple. At the mention of Cooper’s name, the coffee from earlier burned in my empty belly. My friendship with Jamila wasn’t as strong as hers with Cooper. Would we survive an awkward breakup?

“What’s the matter?” Jamila asked, tipping up my chin.

I gazed into her eyes, soft with concern. Why was I worried? Except for one tiny mistake, I’d turned around her public image. She couldn’t stop calling me her girl, and that was half a step away from calling me her girlfriend. We had fabulous sex on two consecutive weekends. And now she was taking me out in public like I’d asked. Like a girlfriend.

“Nothing. All good.” I pecked her lips. “I’m going to order the biggest stack of blueberry pancakes they’ll give me.” A glance in the window showed tables nestled close together, the waitstaff bustling between them with pots of coffee and trays of food.

She chuckled. I followed her inside the restaurant where I inhaled the scents of butter, coffee, and syrup. My stomach growled.

She’d been right about the crowd. People sat on benches lining the small lobby, and the hostess had two or three grease pencils sticking out of her bun. Smiling at the curly-haired man in front of her, she pulled out one of her pencils and made a note on the seating chart.

Focused on the chalkboard listing the daily specials, I bumped into Jamila’s back when she stopped short.

“What’s wr—” But I saw what was wrong. As if we’d conjured him by saying his name, Cooper Fallon stood beside the man at the hostess’s stand. The dark-haired man was his boyfriend, Ben. And standing next to them were my brother and his wife.

“Crap,” I muttered.

But it was too late to turn back. They’d spotted us, thanks to Jamila’s unmistakable height.

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