Page 16 of The Stud Next Door (Frisky Business 3)
I guess this shit is getting to me. It’s a bracing thought, but it’s true.
If I dated, I’d only want to go on a date with Jessa. I’d take her out to a nice dinner, maybe a late-night walk by the lake.
But I know there’s only two ways this could go. She’s into it, and suddenly I’m employing my girlfriend who will be leaving for six months. It would be sticky, and confusing, not ideal for a healthy relationship. Or she isn’t into it, and it’s so awkward that she quits and I’m stuck looking for a nanny again. Neither is a very good option.
“Okay,” she says softly, probably sensing she’s hit a nerve.
I desperately want to tell Jessa that I’m only bothered because, at this point, I’m into her. Not anyone else.
But I know in my gut that it’s better to just let things lie.
6
* * *
JESSA
With my arms full of bags of groceries, I begin the trudge from my car up to my second-floor apartment. It’s funny—it didn’t seem like that far of a journey when I decided I could carry a week’s worth of groceries all in one trip. But judging by the ache in my shoulders and the amount of plastic already cutting into my wrists, I think I might have misjudged this one.
Nice going, Jessa. Great choices all around.
Connor’s deep voice carries from his doorway just as I’m about to take my first steps up the stairwell. “Hey, neighbor, need a hand with those?”
A nervous knot forms inside my stomach at the sight of him, as gorgeous as ever in a pair of black athletic shorts riding low on his trim hips, and a light gray T-shirt that looks soft enough to bury my face into. Or maybe I just want to bury my face into his pecs.
“That would be great, thanks,” I manage to squeak out, trying to adjust my grip on an especially heavy bag of fruit and yogurt.
In a few long strides, Connor is by my side, our fingers brushing as I hand him a few bags. My stomach dips with every brief moment of contact. God, it’s really hard to focus on anything other than him when he’s around.
“How’s Marley?” I blurt as we climb the stairs to my apartment.
There’s something unsettling about knowing his face is ass-level. Is he the kind of man to do the gentlemanly thing and look away, even if he knows I can’t see him? Or is he totally sneaking a glance at my butt right now?
“She’s with her mom, probably sleeping or eating. Blissfully unaware of what the real world is like.” Connor’s voice is flat and monotone, a far cry from his usual warm and engaging baritone.
“You okay?” I ask, turning the key to my little side entrance. I’m grateful for my own access point to this apartment. The couple who own this place have done a great job making it feel like an independent property.
As we place the bags on the counter, he lets out a sigh. He looks around before answering, taking my space in.
It’s not until this moment that I realize Connor Blake is standing in my kitchen. I invited him in without thinking twice about it. I didn’t even pause to make sure there weren’t old takeout boxes piled on top of the trash can, which thankfully there aren’t.
He rests one hand on the counter and leans into it. “I’m supposed to go out of town tomorrow on business for an overnight, but I’m picking Marley up this evening and she doesn’t go back to her mom’s until next week. I know it sounds like a small thing to be so worked up about, but it’s just . . .” He trails off, staring at the counter.
“I get it,” I say, taking a step toward him. “I can stay over and watch Marley for you, if you want. So you can go and don’t have to worry about her.”
Connor shakes his head, his gaze still trained on the counter. “No, I’m planning on canceling. I don’t want to miss out on any of the time I have with Marley. She’s growing so fast.”
Is it possible for a heart to actually melt a little bit? Because I think that mine might be dripping into a puddle on the floor.
“I’ll go with you then.” The words come out before I can fully think them through. Apparently, this is becoming a consistent problem when I’m around Connor.
He looks up at me then, his green eyes making my heart beat double-time. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not. I’m offering. Take me with you. I’ll babysit Marley while you’re off doing whatever sex-related dealings you have to do,” I say with a smirk.
I expect Connor to laugh or at least crack a smile at my joke about his business, but he doesn’t. Instead, his brow furrows and his eyes grow more serious. He’s thinking. Deeply. About what, I have no idea.
