His Outlaw Valentine - Jessa Kane Page 0,1

dinners being served tonight in Philly? Prove your devotion to one another and get a free glass of champagne. No thank you.” Why does Ryan’s smile look a little sick? “Aren’t you going to have any pancakes?”

Shaking his head slowly, he leans back in his chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. It’s a move that should be familiar to me, but when his socked foot accidentally nudges me under the table, my belly sucks in hard and I gasp, dropping my fork, left shaken by the sensation of…what? What was that?

“Sorry,” he mutters, taking a long drink of coffee. “Sometimes I forget how damn long these legs are now.”

I pick my fork back up slowly, still trying to recover from the interesting little twist beneath my belly button. “W-well, they weren’t always that long.”

“I remember.” He winks from behind his glasses. “You used to beat me in races.”

“Until eighth grade and then…” I make an explosion sound. “Goliath.”

“Come on, now. I used to let you win on occasion.”

“Only if I fake cried.”

His amusement dies. “Yeah.” He clears his throat hard and sets down his coffee mug. “I’ve always hated it when you cry.”

Ryan says things like this all the time. Things that make me want to throw my arms around him and let him cradle me like a baby. So that’s usually when I panic and get out of his vicinity as quickly as possible, because I refuse to make myself vulnerable to anyone. It’s like handing someone a weapon to use against you at will. “Good thing I’m so tough now,” I breathe, pushing back from the table. “Right?”

“Uh-huh.” He watches me gather my purse with unreadable eyes. “Jessie.”

“Yes?”

Without another word, Ryan stands, straightening to his full height. I strive to keep a blasé expression on my face, but inside, my heart is pumping like it belongs to a cornered rabbit. Why is he coming so close? Ryan is usually so good about giving me space. It’s not that I have a fear of being touched. Not exactly. But any kind of skin-on-skin contact is intimate—and I don’t do intimacy in any way shape or form. It’s too risky, letting someone so close.

I hold my breath as Ryan stops in front of me, so tall I would have to crane my neck to meet his eyes. But I don’t do that, I stare straight forward at his chest, trying to quell the urge to run. To run from this person who I’ve come dangerously close to letting in. Lately, keeping any part of myself from Ryan makes me feel like Superman trying to withstand kryptonite.

Maybe I’ll just tell Ryan about my mother being back in town…

Maybe I’ll just ask him for help…

Then I remind myself the only person a woman can depend on is herself.

Pulse racing, I watch Ryan pick up my fork and stab it into the only piece of pancake I left on the plate. Slowly, deliberately, he brings it to my mouth. “All our lives, I’ve let you get away with shutting me out,” he rasps, pushing the syrupy pancake bite between my lips. “But I feed you, Jessie. Every single day. That’s the one privilege you allow me and you’re not taking it away. Eat.”

Speaking of syrup, I feel like I’ve been caked in the hot, sugary substance, head to toe. My brain is in syrup, too, processing the moment in a slow haze. Ryan’s attention is fastened to my mouth and I’m…am I looking at his, too?

What am I hoping for?

What am I doing?

Not only is Ryan my best and only friend, which makes him super off limits, but I could never kiss him and proceed with today’s plan.

Also I don’t kiss anyone!

I touch no one and no one touches me.

Inside or out.

I swallow quickly and step back, shaking myself free of the trance. “Happy?” I say with a shaky laugh, picking up my purse and going around Ryan. “I’ll, um…see you later. Good luck with the Garvey case. Bye.”

As soon as I close the apartment door behind me, I lean back against it and breathe like I’ve just hiked Kilimanjaro. What happened in there?

Why are my breasts so tingly?

Ryan isn’t supposed to get in my personal space like that. Or say things that even border on being too personal. What’s gotten into him?

Moreover, how could I let whatever it is affect me like this? I know better.

With one final, steadying breath, I check to make sure my gun is