that hypothetical persimmon again, teasing her out, offering her the roots she craved. “You should also know I read the newspaper backwards.”
“Upside down?”
“That would be cool, but no. Last story to first.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I always knew you were a weirdo.”
She fought a laugh. “I also lick off the potato chip flavoring before I eat the chip.”
“Now you’re just gross. But this idiot doesn’t care.”
“You have problems, Elvis.” She wanted to shake him, list all her strange habits and quirks until he tossed up his hands and tapped out. Believing he could truly forgive her and move on was the scarier option. “How can you be sure about us—about me?”
“I just am.” No hint of hesitation.
“It might take me time to find work.”
“Good thing I made you promise to quit judging how I spend my money.”
Oh, right, that agreement. Sneaky devil. “No one can know about my past.”
He shrugged a shoulder, still pressed tight to her side. “Thanks to my father, I’ve become skilled at evading questions.”
“I’m not sure it’s smart for me to be around Chloe. Not the best role model and all...” Her weak laughter faltered under her nerves.
Jack’s playfulness vanished. “That’s bullshit. She was the happiest I’ve seen her in ages with you. You weren’t acting. Your past mistakes aren’t your future choices. So if you’re done trying to convince me to break up with you, I’d like to explore that hard and fast sex you were after.”
Hard and fast sounded amazing, but the breaking up part made her feel soft and gooey. Only couples could break up. She wanted her and Jack to be a couple, like Imelda and Lawson, annoying each other, quibbling, making up, doing it all over again.
For that to happen, she had to quit waiting for this bottom to drop out. She’d broken the news to Lucien. Jack had forgiven her. There was no reason to keep riding this second-guessing train. Especially after the Sex of the Century. When Jack had moved inside her, it hadn’t just been thrusting, pursuit of pleasure. That type of sex she knew: find the sweet spot and chase your release. Jack had moved his whole body when making love, a wave from the tip of his spine to his toes, turning every spot sweet.
Clementine snuck her head under his chin and kissed his Adam’s apple. Loved how his rumbling groan vibrated against her lips. “Hard and fast sounds perfect, but we have a visitor in bed.” Adorable Ricky dozing on a pillow.
Jack rolled his weight onto her, nipped her ear, and slapped her hip. “Be right back.” But he paused before getting up and frowned at something over her shoulder.
“What is it?” All she saw was a sleek lamp and digital clock.
“Nothing. I just always move the alarm cord so it’s tucked behind the nightstand. Ricky got tangled in it once, and I’m always careful. My cleaning lady is, too.”
“I guess one of you forgot?” They better have forgotten. Minor details like that could indicate an intruder. Lucien had harped on details. Anything that moves goes back. Disturbing a speck of dust can cause suspicion.
Jack was rich. Anyone could target him. Steal from him. Hurt him. Or maybe she really had been tailed at that concert and someone had broken into his house…or she was losing it. Half a minute into her new life, she was imagining break-ins and gun-wielding burglars, still so entrenched in that life. Because an alarm cord had been moved. Because she’d felt jumpy at a festival shortly after altering her entire life. Of course she’d been jumpy!
Jack gave his head a deprecating shake and gathered Ricky. “It was probably me. My mind’s been more than a little occupied the past few days.” He winked at Clementine.
Her head would take longer than a few days to quit undermining her. Messaging Lucien soon would help. “Hurry back.”
“Don’t you dare move.”
She had no plans to move from his bed. His home. His life.
As long as her past didn’t find a way to suck her back in.
22
Clementine stretched and yawned, her body and senses slowly waking up. Soft sheets. Cushy pillow. Fluffy duvet. Faint scents of man and sex tickled her nose. This was definitely not her mildew-smelling motel, and she was not the same Clementine Abernathy. For the first time in her memory, she felt pure happiness. There was no trepidation about an upcoming job, no second-guessing her choices. However her life panned out from here, she’d always remember this peace.
She cracked an