chill.
Jared watched her. The weight of his gaze was an almost tangible touch. Felicity shifted in her chair as she wriggled under his scrutiny.
“What paper do you have this morning?” he asked after a moment of painfully awkward silence.
“It’s an analysis of the changing artistic painting styles in Colonial America during the Revolutionary War.” She sipped her tea. Irish Breakfast. Her favorite.
Jared dug into his waffle, chewing thoughtfully. “You pick that by choice or force?”
She didn’t understand his question. “I picked it. I’m an art history major.”
“Ah…that explains the costume. You, princess, are a nerd.” His judgmental smirk made her want to punch him, yet she still also found it infuriatingly attractive.
A prickle of indignation buried beneath her skin. Nerd? Nerd!
“I am not. Appreciating history isn’t bad,” she countered.
With a scrape of a fork over the plate he continued to eat, his whiskey brown eyes fixed on her every few seconds.
“Never said it was bad.”
Okay. Felicity wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she decided to eat in silence. After a few bites—delicious ones—she realized she had relaxed a little more around him. She’d slept with Jared. Well, not slept with him, but being around him and not making a fool of herself by being too awkward was impressive when she’d rarely spent time alone with any guys back home. Instead, her heart beat a little quicker, her mouth was desert-dry, and her hands trembled with excitement.
“So…Layla said you’re an attorney?” She decided to try small talk again. Her plate was wiped clean and so was his. He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, fingers laced as he studied her.
“Yeah. I focus on real estate transactions. I’m an associate attorney at Pimms & Associates LLP.”
The name didn’t sound familiar, not that it should have. She and Jared moved in very different circles. She was a graduate student with no connections to any big companies in the city, especially not law firms. And she wasn’t from Omaha like Jared. She was just a small-town girl, but he didn’t make her feel that way.
For the last couple of months of being around Tanner, she’d learned the Redmonds were wealthy, but they had earned it through hard work. More than once Layla had confessed it was one of the things she loved about Tanner. He wasn’t a spoiled playboy. He played hard, sure, but he worked hard, too. He was an engineering major. Those students had an intense curriculum. Felicity and Layla joked that one look at Tanner’s textbooks gave them headaches.
“Want another waffle?” Jared’s voice cut through her thoughts. He was standing right beside her. When had he moved?
“No thanks.” She patted her stomach. “Quite full.”
“Okay. Just make sure you eat enough to fuel your brain for your research paper.” He ruffled a hand over her hair, messing up the artful windblown look she’d spent several minutes that morning perfecting.
“Hey!” she said, swatting his hand away. When he caught her hand and tugged her body against his, she closed her eyes, praying for a kiss.
Gentle fingers cupped her chin and lifted her face. “Look at me, princess.”
She pried one eye open, her heart beating wildly. To her surprise, Jared was studying her, but only kindness and curiosity shone in his warm brown eyes. Like rich maple syrup… She blinked.
“There you are,” he murmured more to himself than to her. “Welcome back.” He grinned and patted her cheek.
She couldn’t escape the crushing disappointment. Why hadn’t he kissed her? Was there something wrong with her?
The gesture was patronizing, yet Felicity couldn’t summon any anger. No one had ever been playful with her or treated her like a kid, or maybe like a sister. But the look in his eyes—there was something dark and wild there, something that did funny things to her insides. Her lips pursed in a tight line.
“Don’t frown, princess.” He laughed, his back still to her.
She shot him a scathing look, hot enough to melt steel.
He was already walking back to the sink, whistling a tune under his breath.
“Better get going if you’re going to make it to your class.” He joined her back at the table and held out a wad of cash. “Cab money.” He set the money in her hand and then walked back to the sink, apparently oblivious to her standing there gaping. The water ran as he scrubbed pots. A lawyer who did his own dishes? What next?
“I have money.” She attempted to put the money on the counter