Jonquils for Jax (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #1) - Katy Regnery Page 0,22
grimaced, her feelings hurt. “Why not?”
He was scowling at her again, clenching his jaw tightly, his eyebrows knitted together in consternation. Finally he dropped her eyes, gesturing to the gym. “We can’t be friends. We come from different worlds.”
“Who cares?”
His head shot up, his eyes finding hers, searching them. “Don’t you?”
“No.”
“No?” he asked, his face registering genuine surprise. His lips twitched and his expression softened, giving her just enough encouragement to try again.
“I want to be friends,” she answered, chancing a small smile and hoping he wouldn’t crush it with whatever he said next.
He crossed his arms over his chest again, considering her for a long moment. “I don’t have any friends who are women.”
Her eyes widened and she laughed softly. “None?”
“Nope,” he said. “Never tried it. Seemed dangerous.”
It could be, she thought quickly before shoving the thought aside.
“You’ve dated, though?”
“Sure.”
“And you weren’t friends with any of your girlfriends?”
“I was,” he said slowly, “but I was sleepin’ with them, Duchess.”
Her breath hitched and it felt like all the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. As appealing as that idea was, Jax wasn’t the sort of girl who slept with men she barely knew.
“Well, you’re not sleeping with me.”
“Yet.”
***
“Wh-what?” she stammered, her cheeks flushing pink.
“Uhhh…”
Putain de merde! he thought. What the hell was that? Where did it come from? And now that it was out there, he couldn’t take it back. God damn it!
“Yet?” she squeaked.
“I just mean…”
He scrambled, trying to think of a way to back out of one stupid, tiny word that had just crossed a line he’d been so damn careful to observe up until now.
What did he mean? That he’d like to fuck her?
Yes. Of course. What man wouldn’t? She was the perfect combination of pretty and hot—a bona fide knockout.
The problem, however, was that the time for an anonymous, gratuitous fuck had passed. He’d missed his chance on Saturday night when they were still virtual strangers and she’d offered him a kiss. Now? He’d gotten to know her a little: he knew she was vulnerable, hounded by the media, and—from what he could gather—lonely. The airspace for fucking her without any strings attached had already come and gone.
So the implication that they hadn’t fucked…yet? It was awkward because it implied they would someday. And while that might sound like a fine idea to his dick, his head knew that it was just about impossible in real life. They were two broken creatures hiding from the world. They had no business making their lives more complicated by getting involved with each other.
He had no idea what to say, still wishing like hell that he could somehow rewind time and swallow his stupid “yet” before it had escaped his lips.
He’d been staring at the floor, but now he raised his eyes to apologize. Her wide green eyes still focused on his face with surprise, but as he stared back at her, he realized that her emeralds were twinkling. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, she was trying not to laugh.
“De ne pas coucher avec vos voisines,” she said, finally letting her smile break forth, accompanied by a soft chuckle.
Because there wasn’t an exact translation in French for “Don’t shit where you eat,” she’d used the closest expression possible, which translated directly to “Don’t sleep with your neighbors,” which, in this particular situation, was so timely and so perfect, it made him throw back his head and laugh. Not smirk. Not chuckle. But really laugh…which felt wonderful and weird and foreign, because as he stared at the ceiling listening to a rich bellow break free from his chest, he realized it had been ages since he’d heard the sound of his own laughter.
She joined him, giggling beside him for a moment before straightening, her blush deepening as she gestured awkwardly to the gym.
“Now we’re even,” she said, and he assumed she was referring to Saturday night when he turned her down for a kiss.
“Okay, Duchess. Even.”
“Friends?” she asked, cocking her head to the side and holding out her hand.
Still smiling at her, admiring the way she’d let the whole episode roll off her back with humor, he nodded, pressing his hand to hers and pumping it once.
“Yeah, okay. Friends. You’re cool, Jax,” he said, trying out her nickname for the first time.
“And you barely know me,” she said, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder with a sassy grin. “Just wait. I’m going to be the best friend you ever had, Gard.”