Page 101 of Smooth Moves
“I’m fine, damn it. Thanks for asking.” He tapped the steering wheel some more. “I was just thinking that if we lived together, you could save on rent.”
She hadn’t expectedthatbombshell. “Say that again?”
He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “I’ve been thinking about moving into my mom’s. It would become my house. New paint, no tacky rose wallpaper, and no more hoarding.”
“Right. No more hoarding.” Her heart raced.Living together?What, as roommates? Lovers? Something more?
“It’s in a nice neighborhood. The mortgage is paid, so it’s just utilities really. That and my food bill,” he tacked on, trying to sound lighthearted and failing. “I have a ton of room in there. So, uh, if you felt pressured to be with me to stay there, you wouldn’t have to. You don’t have to fuck me to live there or anything. I mean, Iwantto fuck you. All the damn time. But I know you need space for Rafi and that it weirds you out if we’re together and he’s around.
“I just think it makes sense. That way I can save money by moving out of my current place when Reid leaves. And you can move in with me. Like, we can be together. With Rafi. And, well, in the house.”
She stared at him, having never heard him speak so fast for so long.
After a moment, he groaned. “You are killing me. Did I just mess everything up or what?”
“I’m confused. You want me to move in as your roommate? But no more sex?”
“What?No.” He finally arrived at his house and pulled into the driveway, parked the car, and turned to face her. “I want you in my bed, in my life, and in my house. With me. You need a place to stay. I need you. Seems like an easy thing to fix.”
“I…” She had never thought he might ask, and not so soon.
“Look, think about it, okay? You don’t have to make up your mind now. You’re fine staying with me here as long as you want. I can always rent out my mom’s place and we could live here.” He blew out a breath. “What I’m saying is, you could live here with me until you find a place to rent. If you wanted to go, I mean.”
She hated that he felt so nervous he kept repeating himself. But, dang, he was so cute. He wanted her with him. To move in with him. “Is this because you feel sorry for me?”
“Huh?No.You put Smith in a wristlock. I think I love you.” After averyawkward silence in which she feared his face would burst into flame, his cheeks had turned so red, he corrected himself. “I love you for hurting Smith. Not for…I don’t… Well, I do have…feelings I…” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Shoot me now.”
“Oh, no. This is the most fascinating conversation I’ve ever had with you.” She laughed, unable to help herself. She lowered her voice to mimic his. “I mean… Feelings…I…well… Bananas.”
“Shut up.” He lifted his head and glared. “My blood sugar is low. That’s my excuse. What’s yours?” He slammed his way out of the car, his face still beet-red, and grabbed a bunch of grocery bags.
She followed, taking the last two, and joined him inside. “My excuse? For what?”
“For being obnoxious,” he snarled as he slammed things into cabinets and shoved items in the refrigerator.
She trailed him down the hallway toward the bathroom, where he tossed a bundle of toilet paper. Before he could leave, she blocked his way. “So huffy.”
“So huffy? You’re such a jerk sometimes, Jordan.”
Not so amused, she stared him down. “What is your problem? We had a great day, lots of fun, laughs, then you got weird in the car, and now you’re acting like an ass.”
“My problem?My problem, Jordan, is that I love you. And I don’t want to scare you away, and you’re such a pain in my ass.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck.You know the last woman I told that to? She cheated on me, stole from me, and nearly had me arrested for trumped-up claims of abuse. And the first woman I ever loved hated my guts for no apparent reason. So excuse the fuck out of me for being weird in the fucking car!”
He picked her up, set her down behind him, and stormed from the bathroom.
It took her a moment to process because she kept hearing “I love you” in Cash’s snarly, grumbly voice. This from the crass, less-than-sophisticated brute who hadn’t wanted to hire a woman in the first place. The soft teddy bear of a guy who would do anything not to have a woman cry on him, who pretty much supported her through everything she’d ever told him, loved her.
Giddy and thrilled, she darted out of the bathroom and found him closeted in his bedroom, the door locked shut.
Bull. Shit.
She spotted the spare key over the doorway and had to use a chair to reach it. Then she fit the key in the door and pushed her way inside.
“It was locked for a reason,” he growled, looking miserable as he stood by the window, staring outside.
“Cash. Look at me.”
He refused to move. Refused to glance her way. So she decided to get his attention.
