Page 86 of A Real Good Bad Thing

Stay strong,I lectured my reflection.Don’t give in to all those butterflies.

Duke had promised to be good to me, and that had turned out to be a crock.

Now with Jake, our goals were parallel, but not exactly the same. I didn’t think he was or would be dishonest with me if he could help it—probably—but he had a job to do. His family relied on him.

And my mom, even if she didn’t know it, was relying on me.

The only smart thing to do was to keep focused and let my brain guide me.

When I returned to the table, Jake shot me the sweetest smile. His soft lips curved up, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and they seemed to light up.

Ugh. Resistance is out. Brain, you’re at the plate.

“What are you smiling about?” I asked, tilting my head and trying to read him. A waitress skirted around us, balancing a loaded tray. I barely noticed her as Jake held my gaze captive.

He gestured to the chair. “Sit down. I have something to show you.”

I sat, and he showed me his phone screen.

It was open to a TripAdvisor page about Ariel’s Island Eco-Adventure Tours, where a new review had appeared on my listing. As I read the words on the post, a smile took over my face, too wide to contain. Words likegreat customer service, incredible dive leader, brilliant knowledge of marine life, super-nice woman running the business.

They were simple words but thrilling ones.

They meant the world to me. Not because I was jonesing for one more review. But because he’d done it knowing it mattered to me. He understoodwhyit mattered so much.

Jake couldn’t be more different than my ex. I set down the phone, leaned across the table, cupped his cheeks in my hands, and kissed him. It was soft at first, but in seconds it climbed higher and turned feverish. My skin sizzled as the kiss consumed me. He groaned as our tongues tangled in a furious duet of longing. I was vaguely aware of the diners and my own sense of propriety—or decency, even. So I sealed my lips tightly to his, kissed him hard one final time, then let go.

“Thank you,” I said as I sat back down. “Even though you’ve never done one of my tours, that was very sweet.”

“I beg to differ. I have done one of your tours,” he said with a playful rise in his eyebrow. “Tonight.”

“Was that an official or unofficial tour?”

“Unofficial, unpaid, who cares? I had the time of my life, and I want everyone to know Ariel’s Island Eco-Adventure Tours is the best in the business.”

“You know what you deserve for that amazing review?”

“An epic blow job? A chance to put you on all fours and sink into you?” he asked.

Okay, fine. Ripping off clothes was quite fun, and I wasn’t going to take that possibility off the table. I laughed. “You are such a dirty man.”

“I am, and you love it.”

“I do, and you’ll get all of that, but I was thinking of ice cream right now.”

“That works too.”

He tossed the napkin and some bills on the table in a rush, held out his hand, and eagerly walked with me to the nearest ice cream stand.

Holding handsthe entire way. Squeezing my fingers. Running the pad of his thumb absently over the top of my hand.

Kissing was good, and sex was fantastic. But holding hands?

That was magical. And it brought a return of those damn butterflies and all the future possibilities.

They were dangerous things, those butterflies. Scarier than jewel thieves.

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