Page 43 of Jesse
“So,” Jesse said, his voice a little rough, “what do you think about going someplace better to celebrate? Ditch this place.”
I laughed softly, my hands still lingering on his shoulders. “Actually, I was thinking of just heading straight to your place.”
His grin was slow and lazy, his thumb brushing against my waist.
And for the first time in what felt like days, I let myself smile without holding back.
Chapter 11
Jesse
“Give me five minutes,”I said, breathless with a sheepish grin as I fumbled with my keys. Beck raised an eyebrow but smirked.
“I’ll be counting,” he said, leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world.
He wore that dang hoodie that made his collarbone peek out just enough to be distracting.
I darted inside my apartment like a man on fire. Because I was. On fire with anticipation. On fire with nerves. On fire with something I didn’t want to put a name to yet.
It was a mess. Not the good kind of mess either. The floor was a battlefield of clothes, shirts, socks, two jackets that somehow ended up in a heap by the couch.
“Dang it,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair as I kicked a pair of jeans under the couch.
I started gathering clothes like a madman, stuffing them into the laundry bin like I could magically erase the fact that I lived like an unsupervised bachelor most of the time.
Why was I nervous? I’d brought guys back here before. Hookups. Short flings that never made it past sunrise. But Beck… Beck wasn’t like that.
He wasn’t a one-night stand. I didn’t even know what we were yet, but I knew this: I wanted more than just one night.
A knock sounded behind me, followed by the creak of the door opening.
“I’m not the inspection police,” Beck called out with a teasing lilt. Then he stepped inside and blinked. “Wow. When was the last time you cleaned this place?”
“Hey,” I huffed, still holding a fistful of socks, “I’ve been busy solving murders and competing in food truck competitions. Domestic god isn’t on the resume right now.”
He laughed, actual, full-body laughter. The sound did something to me. Made my stomach flip. Made my wolf settle a little, like it liked the sound of Beck laughing too.
Beck strolled in, surveying the chaos with an amused look. “It’s like your clothes fought a war and gave up halfway.”
“Thanks for the support.”
He knelt down, started helping me pick up more clothes.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said quickly, watching him fold a hoodie that had been on the floor for three days. “Seriously, Beck, this probably ruined the mood.”
He straightened, gave me a look I didn’t expect. Soft. Open. A little flushed in the cheeks.
“It didn’t,” he said. “I kind of like seeing you like this.”
“Like what? Frazzled and messy?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It’s real. You always seem so in control. It’s nice seeing the other side.”
That hit something in me I wasn’t ready for. I coughed, turned away before he could read too much on my face, and headed into the kitchen. “Beer?”
“Sure,” he called.
The kitchen was the one place in the apartment that wasn’t a disaster zone. Go figure. I opened the fridge, grabbed two bottles, and cracked them open.
