Page 72 of Smooth Moves
Juan smiled. “Awesome. You want to hang?”
“Sure.” Not like Rafi had much of anything else to do. What the heck would he tell Jordan? “I’m so fucked.”
“Nah. You got friends. I’ll hook you up, if you want.”
“Yeah? With what?”
“Getting kicked out of school is gonna be a problem for you, right?”
He sighed and nodded.
“So you’re needing funds. I got some friends who can help with that.”
Rafi didn’t know. Juan had a reputation as a go-to guy for illegal stuff, and his family had serious money, so he usually kept out of trouble. Apparently they hadn’t been able to buy him good grades, hence summer school. He’d even been rumored to hang out with a gang. Jordan didn’t know about any of that, but she’d never liked him. She’d blamed Juan’s influence for the bathroom cherry-bomb stunt. Which, actually, had been Juan’s idea.
“I will need money.” Jordan had been spending more than she could afford for him. He’d overheard her talking on the phone and seen some of her bills, though she’d told him she was okay.
“Perfect. Come on, Rafael. Let’s enjoy our summer and get rich while we’re at it.”
Rafi smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Then let’s go.”
* * *
Cash spent the next few days feeling his way with Jordan. Since Reid had threatened to fire him if he eventhoughtabout going in to work, Cash sat at home and actually did a lot of resting and sleeping, which helped his head.
She’d kept her distance Wednesday and Thursday night, telling him she needed family time. He had no problem with the distance. Or so he told her. He’d actually missed her like crazy. His only bright spots had been more time with Reid, who’d spent the past two nights with him while Naomi traveled for some business thing, and a phone call from Gavin and Mac. Apparently he hadn’t worn out his welcome at the gym.
“Good job kicking ass,” Mac, the gym’s owner, had told him over the phone. “Those jerks aren’t welcome back. Ever. You see them, you save their pounding for me.” Since Mac had also done time in the Corps and looked like a linebacker for a pro team, Cash had no problem leaving any ass-beatings to him. The praise had been nice but uncomfortable, made worse because Elliot kept talking about a Cash Appreciation Night at his bakery.
Cash would have refused, except Gavin had called to mention that this get-together would be a good thing for the community. The knowledge that locals protected their own. Cash liked the idea, even if he didn’t like being the center of it, and grudgingly agreed to attend if Elliot promised to change the name of the event. Which hesupposedlyhad… Now all Cash had to do was milk his recuperation time and hope Elliot had forgotten all about it the next time they crossed paths.
He sat in bed, propped against the headboard, staring at his toes. He wore shorts and a ratty sweatshirt while he waited for Jordan to join him. She’d stepped into the bathroom to get into something more comfortable. He’d surprised her with plans to go bowling…which she had rejected due to his supposed concussion. Cash felt just fine, but when she’d suggested a date indoors, just the two of them, he’d been all for it. Except she insisted they relax and offered a Friday night pajama party. Despite the fact he wasn’t a teenage girl, he’d agreed. Sadly, since Jordan didn’t sleep naked, he’d offered her something of his to wear. And now Friday Night in Pajamas was a go.
The days away from her had only increased his need for the woman. But at least that hunger went both ways. Seconds after he’d opened the door to her, she’d given him a kiss that had melted his brain.
He sighed. What could he do? He was so into this chick it hurt, yet he noticed she’d been holding herself back. He’d sensed a problem over the phone on Thursday, but she acted like nothing bothered her, and he had to respect her wishes to keep things as casual as she wanted.
But tonight, with Reid shacking up with Naomi and Rafi spending the night with his friend, the one Jordan tolerated, Cash had her all to himself. Time to bombard that emotional blockade of hers. Reid, even Evan, would slyly prod for answers, hurdling obstacles. Not Cash. He believed in annihilating problems head-on.
The niggle of doubt that she’d already had enough of him and wanted to move on but was afraid to tell him had disappeared the moment she’d kissed him.
When Mariah had wanted nothing to do with him, she’d left. No kisses, no passion. And no more bank account, but whatever. Cash had money in the bank again, and Jordan wasn’t the type to sleep with a guy for what he could give her. Of that he had no doubt.
She rejoined him, wearing one of his shirts. The thing came to her knees but molded to her breasts, and he’d never envied a piece of clothing more.
He patted the bed beside him. “Come here.”
She sat next to him, her back against the headboard, and crossed her ankles. “Thanks, Conan. I like your taste in clothing.”
He grinned. “Anything for you, Ms. Fleming.”
“That’s Staff Sergeant Fleming to you.”
“Fine. You can call me Conan. Or Gunny or Master. Your call.”
She rolled her eyes.
