Good With His Hands (Good in Bed #1)- Lauren Blakely Page 0,23
mine. And this seems like something we should sleep on, don’t you think? Make sure we still think this is a good idea when we’re not horny?”
She gives a helpless shrug. “But I’m always horny,” she says with a sincerity that makes me laugh. “No, seriously,” she says, firm and strong, setting her hands on my shoulders to make her point. “It’s been a long time, Jesse. Like . . . a really long time. Chad and I didn’t sleep together. And before that I just . . . I wasn’t ready. Mentally or physically.”
Whoa.
Is she saying what I think she’s saying? That it’s been more than two years?
“So it’s been . . . a few years?”
“Yes. Does that make me a virgin again?” she asks, faux innocent as she bats her lashes.
I can’t help but laugh. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works, but my thoughts and prayers go out to you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I lean in, dust a kiss onto her forehead, then brush her hair away from her face. “Just having a good time with you, that’s all. And I figured that might be the case—that it had been a while.”
She frowns. “How could you tell? Was I bad at kissing?”
My heart squeezes, and I run a hand down her hair. “Shut up. You’re amazing,” I say, my eyes locked with hers as I say those two words.
“I am?”
I tuck my fingers under her chin. “Yes. Your kiss could jump-start a car. Hell, it could jump-start a whole fleet of vehicles.”
She grins playfully. “Perhaps I have a hidden talent.” She snaps her fingers. “And you know—that could be a card. A cartoon couple kissing on the hood of a car and you jump-start me written underneath.”
I laugh. “See? The kiss was amazing, fuel-injected, and inspiring.”
A laugh bursts from her, and she smacks my chest. “Fuel-injected is the worst way to describe a kiss.”
I shrug. “Or maybe it’s the best. And that kiss was absolutely the best.”
“Yeah?”
“No doubt.” I inch away, meeting her gaze. “But everything you said—those are all the reasons to wait and be sure this is what you want.”
And to be sure this isn’t morally sketchy, whispers a soft voice in my mind. Sure, she seems cool with a casual thing before I leave town, but that doesn’t track with the Ruby I’ve known. She’s a relationship girl, not a fling girl, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of her at a vulnerable time in her life. Especially if it’s the list that’s making her vulnerable.
Flings might be easier for me than her.
I’ve done serious, but I’ve also done no-strings casual. I’m not sure Ruby has dipped her toes into the waters of the latter.
“Okay,” she says after a beat, “but I don’t see myself changing my mind. And if you change yours, fuel-injected and inspiring kisses notwithstanding, I might be too mortified to take you painting with me tomorrow.”
My brows lift. “Painting?”
Her lips curve up on one side as she opens her purse and pulls out a familiar piece of paper. “I have an idea. About number four—something ugly we can make beautiful again.”
“That one kind of stumped me,” I admit. “What have you got?”
“I’m not sure we can completely resurrect this particular beauty, but we can make it beautiful in a different way than it was before.” She shrugs before adding in a whisper, “But it’s a little bit illegal. So if you don’t want to, I understand.”
Color me intrigued.
“A little bit illegal,” I echo, shaking my head. “Who are you? And what have you done with Plays by the Rules Ruby?”
“I have new rules now,” she says, lifting the list between two fingers.
The words make my stomach clench, but I ignore it. This is good. The list is shaking things up and putting Ruby on a path to a more exciting, fulfilling life.
That’s what the list is about—Ruby finding her mojo. It isn’t a shortcut to getting her to sleep with me. I’m leaving. I sold the shop. I need to do the list and say goodbye like a friend.
Sleeping with her is a conflict of interest.
A big one.
It’s time to set the rules of breaking the law. Because I’m a good friend who looks out for her. I raise one finger. “This new scofflaw side of you . . . if I’m going to embrace it . . .” I trail off, playfully letting the word stretch between us.