Page 44 of Don't Game Me
Tension had them both shooting sporadic glances at each other. He felt like an inept teen who didn’t know how to initiate the moves. He wasn’t that. His mind screamed,stop thinking about it.Movie only. Keep the popcorn bowl right where it is.
Then the popcorn had been eaten. Empty bowl. Bad, bad. Very bad. They were into the slow phase of the movie with a lot of talking. “Want me to pop more popcorn?”Say yes.
“Nah. I’m good.” She drank from her water bottle. Delicate, feminine sips. Her tongue wiped a droplet from her lips.
Hoarsely, he asked, “You all right? Still feeling the alcohol?”
“The buzz is almost gone. I’m sorry I broke down at the reception.”
“Your relatives seemed pretty intense about the bouquet catch prophesy.”
“Thanks for doing this tonight. I know it cramps your style to havemeat your place, but this night would’ve been so much worse if I was sitting alone in the hotel. All the girls made bets on who you’d target at the wedding to take home. Then you went home alone.”
“I didn’t come home alone.” He slowly grinned. “Who’d they think I’d choose?”
“Me.”
“Ah.” Unexpected.
She gazed at the TV screen. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you and I are too complicated.” She paused as if waiting for him to confirm her assertion, which he didn’t. She plowed ahead, “I think what happened between us was…maybe it was a mistake.”
“I already said it wasn’t a mistake. That doesn’t make it right. It happened. Let’s leave it at that.” He’d spent the past hour trying to hide his arousal. His reaction to her was a first for him—to lose his mind every time he touched her. Usually, he could manipulate and direct the whole encounter with a woman, but when he touched Becca, his notorious control flew out the window. Maybe that’s what fascinated him about her.
Aha! This had to be about novelty.
“Can I ask you a question?” she blurted.
“Shoot.”
“Why did you stop dating a few months ago? Tori mentioned it.”
Not the question he’d expected. He swiped his hand across his face. “Work got busy.”
“What made you decide to stop? I mean, really? You always work too hard. That’s not new.”
He shrugged.
She frowned. “Did some girl hurt you?”
“Nah, it’s just me. Taking time off the dating scene.”
“But you don’t really date, do you?”
He shrugged.
“Why are you averse to being with the same person for a while?”
Not this again.“Are you going to chew off my head if I don’t give you the answer you want to hear? Like at Christmas?”
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back off. Instead, her eyes narrowed.
Shit.
She moved the popcorn bowl onto the coffee table and angled his way. “What about finding someone you love? That’s why people date. Or at least try going out more than once.”
Visions of what love cost his mother flashed in his head—a highlight reel of the worst moments of his life. Every time his father beat the crap out of her, she begged the bastard to forgive her, as if she’d done something to warrant the abuse. Jake would never allow one stupid emotion to make him so desperate he’d endure anything, even scraps, to be acknowledged. On the flip side, he was a ticking time bomb of aggression, destined to detonate. The day he stood up to his father, the last time he’d been in that toxic house at eighteen when he’d forced his mother to leave, was the first time he’d exploded, the only time in his life. His father had laughed while Jake punched until his dad passed out. The asshole had been proud of his son’s behavior. Years later, the last words his father spoke to him before he died of liver failure warned he could suppress, but he couldn’t exorcise his genetic predisposition.
He stared upward. “This is a fucking crusade with you, isn’t it? Is it just me you try to fix, or is it everyone around you? Maybe I want to be alone. Maybe I get bored easily and like variety. Maybe I’ve never met a girl I wanted to spend more than one morning-after with.”
