Page 105 of Charming Like Us
Nearly in unison, our heads turn, and we all gaze over the deck railing.
Jack’s—kid, you not—longboarding down the sidewalk like he’s back on the west coast. His biceps look even more sculpted in a blue-and-green tie-dye tank. Not in a million years did I think I’d fall for some California guy.
A smile lifts my lips. “Yeah, I invited him,” I say and leave it at that.
Farrow nods and begins to grin. “You’re hopeless.”
“I’d like a six-pack of the best beer when my heart breaks.”
“Nice try, one beer. Warm. Not even chilled.”
I laugh, and looking down to the street, I stare at my guy.
“How’s it going, beautiful people?” Jack calls up to us from the curb.
Better now that you’re here.Maybe my eyes reflect that. His smile looks more overwhelmed, and he has to shift his gaze.
“Pretty good,” Maximoff calls back. “It’s nice seeing you, man.”
Understatement.
“You too, Moffy.” Jack grabs the long skateboard off the ground and begins squeezing through the crowded stairs.
“Thought you didn’t want us calling youMoffyas a nickname?” Donnelly questions.
Farrow raises his brows at Maximoff.
“Jack is different,” he explains, leash in hand. He already put Arkham down, and the puppy drinks from a communal water bowl. Dogs allowed here.
I chime in, “Meaning, Jack is production.” I almost add,I’d give him special privileges too.My eyes never leave Highland as he pushes through the masses, coming onto the deck.
He reaches us, and I have to restrain myself from greeting him with a hug. A kiss. Especially as his glittering honey-brown eyes graze over mine, and his lips rise in an even stronger smile.
“You’re just waiting?” Jack asks everyone.
“And dreaming of a wiz steak with onions.” Donnelly sips Lightning Bolt! from the same hand that has his cigarette pinched between his fingers. “Been wondering why we’re here, though. Better ones are in South Philly.”
Jack glows, his grin blinding. “Someone told me they’re better here.”
“Who?” Donnelly barks.
“Me.”
Donnelly shoots me a look and then points to me with his can/cigarette hand. “Sustained.”
Farrow and I share a look. “What the fuck,” I say into a laugh.
“When did Donnelly go to law school?” Farrow banters, his smile stretching. “Not a good one either.”
Donnelly blows a middle-finger kiss. “Xander’s been watching a bunch of Law & Order.”
We move up the line and pass through the opened double-doors. The counter and overhang menu come into view.
My arm brushes against Jack’s, and his fingers slip lightly along mine. I’m caging breath, and he’s breathing hard. The story of our lives.
Donnelly suddenly pats his pockets. “You know what. I’m not that hungry. Later.” He pats Farrow’s back and my back, then shoulders his wayoutof the restaurant. It happens so quickly—I’m still trying to detach from Jack Highland’s mesmeric aura.
“What the hell was that?” Farrow asks me.
