Page 284 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
I slide the cake in, my eyes staying on hers as she chews. The silence stretches, but it’s not awkward; it’s easy.
She swallows and smirks. “It’s good, but I’m still not adorable.”
I laugh, low and soft. “You have no idea.”
I shift closer until my leg grazes her inner thigh. I hold the fork out to her, and she leans in slowly, her eyes on mine the whole time.
Her lips wrap around the bite, and I swear I forget how to breathe. I let my free hand rest on her leg—light, but steady. Her skin’s warm beneath the fabric, and she doesn’t pull away.
She chews, swallows, and then hums like it’s the best thing she’s tasted all day. “Okay, fine. Maybe you are good at this.”
“Feeding you?”
“Being dangerously close to adorable.”
I laugh under my breath and lift another piece of cake to her. “Open.”
The fork grazes her lower lip, leaving a smear of frosting on it.
“Careful.” Her fingers brush the icing from her lip. “You’ll get cake on my robe.”
I watch her as she tastes each small bite I feed her. The way her eyes close for a second. The small, involuntary smile tugs the corner of her mouth. It’s not about the cake. It’s the way she lets her guard down—for me.
“Is it good?”
She purrs like she’s thinking it over. “It’s alright.”
“Liar—”
She licks a bit of frosting from her bottom lip, this time watching me and making sure I damn well want to be the one licking the frosting.
“I forget what I was going to say,” I mutter.
We both laugh, and the sound of it—hers mixed with mine—fills my soul.
“I still can’t believe you remembered my birthday.”
“I remember everything about you.”
“Everything?”
“You used to sit behind the gym during lunch because you’d rather read than talk to anyone.”
“Easy. Everyone knew that.”
“You still hate small talk. Your eyes find the nearest exit or clock whenever someone corners you at city hall, the park, or any event. You count the seconds, but you don’t walk away. Hell, I respect the way you stay in the conversation just long enough to make the other person feel heard before you slip out.”
Her eyebrows draw together. “How could you know that?”
I’ve watched her from a distance for so long, I know every damn thing about her.
“You once told me that being called beautiful made your skin itch,” I say. “But I remember the first time I said it and you didn’t flinch.”
“We should test this theory.”
I lean forward and rest both hands on her thighs. “Jade Fox?”
She leans closer to me. “Yes.”
