And that’s something I intend to remedy.
“Jamison!” Ben shouts my brother’s name with the same unbridled enthusiasm he shouted Mick’s, proving Ben has the alcohol tolerance of an insect and is already tipsy after one Bloody Mary. Mick he might not have seen in years, but Jamison’s at the station nearly every damned day.
I lift my beer Jamison’s way in greeting. When he sees who’s standing beside me, he falters for a second, but recovers quickly, waving to Naomi and Maddie before clasping Ben’s uplifted hand and settling into conversation on the opposite side of the buffet.
“All right, I’m going in for wings,” Maddie says, turning back to Naomi. “You want to come with?”
“No,” she says, a slight tremble in her voice. “You go ahead. I’ll wait and have a salad or something once we get a table.”
“Salad on your day off?” Maddie wrinkles her nose. “Whatever floats your boat, sis, but I’m going for the good stuff.” As soon as Maddie steps away to fetch a plate of wings, I shift to face Naomi, turning my back on the rest of the party.
“I’m sorry about Friday night,” I say in a voice I hope is too soft to be overheard by my coworkers, all of whom have been none-too-subtly inquiring as to why they didn’t see me with my date at the fair. “You were right. I was being a grouch. A childish grouch.”
Her lips curve, but the ghost of a smile vanishes quickly. “I want to apologize, too. I’m stubborn and bossy and I do want to control things. You were right and…I’m sorry we fought.”
“Apology accepted,” I say, but she still looks nervous, so I add, “and I hope you’ll accept mine, and my promise to be on my best behavior for our next date.”
“Oh.” She blinks, her gaze flicking from me to the crew gathered behind me and back again. “Well, sure. Of course,” she says stiffly. “Apology accepted. I’m glad we’re…good.”
“You sound glad,” I tease, trying to lighten the moment.
“I’m just surprised,” she says, with a breathy laugh. “I didn’t think… I mean, I assumed you were finished with me.” She winces. “With the dates, I mean. Finished with the dates.” She pulls in a breath but doesn’t look any calmer for it.
I study her over the rim of my glass as I take another pull on my beer. She’s definitely still anxious. I must have been an even bigger asshole than I thought, which means a bigger apology is in order.
I step closer, until I’m close enough that I’m sure my words will stay between the two of us. “Listen, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since Friday night.”
“You have?” She looks up, focusing her full attention on me for the first time since she walked into the room.
I meet her gaze—so clear and blue and bottomless a man could drown in it—and immediately know why she’s been acting so weird.
Naomi has sex eyes.
The worst case I’ve seen in years.
Back when we were kids, I assumed “sex eyes” were a Naomi thing, that she was the only girl who got a telltale look on her face that let me know she was in the mood for more than conversation. But as I gained experience, I realized most women have some version of sex eyes, though none as easy for me to read as Naomi’s.
One look and I’d always known exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it—sweet and easy, drawn out with lots of teasing, hard and fast with enough force that both of us were moaning in pleasure-pain by the time we were finished.
Right now, she looks like she’d be up for all three.
One right after the other.
And suddenly I’m harder than I’ve been in years and praying she doesn’t look down at the front of my jeans.
Chapter Eleven
Jake
I swallow—hard—and fight for control.
So…Naomi wants me.
Big deal. I want her, too.
We’ll probably always be attracted to each other, but that doesn’t mean we should act on it. In fact, that’s the last thing on earth we should even think about doing.
And so I pretend not to read the “Please take me against the wall at your earliest convenience” look in her eyes and say, “I was thinking that there’s no reason we can’t be friends. Or at least…friendly.” I struggle to retain my focus as Naomi’s tongue slips out to dampen her lips. “If you’re going to make Bliss River your home, I should get used to it. Like you said. And make the best of it. I don’t want to be a grouch every time we cross paths. That’s not the person I want to be. I went to visit my wife’s grave today and it reminded me—”
“I’m so sorry.” Naomi’s hand flies to hover above her lips for a moment as her brows draw together. “Today’s the anniversary, isn’t it? God, I can’t believe it slipped my mind.”