Fumbled Hearts (A Tender Hearts Novel) Page 13

  “Hey,” he beams, a nice smile gracing his lips as he hops out of the booth, leaning in to give me a quick hug.

  He steps back and holds a hand out, motioning for me to sit as he takes the seat across from me.

  “Sorry I’m a little late.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He waves me off. “I’m glad you came.”

  His smile is infectious and I can’t help but smile back.

  “Did you order yet?” I glance up at him as I pick up the menu.

  “Nah,” he shrugs. “I wanted to make sure you showed up first.”

  I laugh. “Good idea.”

  Ryan pops over to the table, setting a soda down in front of me. “Dr. P. for you, Lolli.”

  My eyebrows lift and Jarrod laughs.

  He reaches over, clasping a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Man remembers everything.”

  “I hear everything, too.” He cuts me a glance.

  “Oh, I bet you do,” I tease. “This place is probably worse than a beauty salon, what with half the junior and senior class here every night.”

  Ryan laughs. “Don’t be mistaken, I get freshman and sophomore dirt, too.”

  I laugh, and lift my legs in my seat to sit Indian-style. “Alright.” I set my menu down and look at Jarrod.

  “You decided already?” he asks, amused.

  I smile and slowly shake my head. “Nope.”

  They both stare at me, wide-eyed and grinning, making me laugh.

  “I’m in an indecisive mood today, boys.” I tilt my head and wiggle my eyebrows playfully at Jarrod.

  His green eyes hold mine. “What do you have in mind, Ms. Embers?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “How about a spin on ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’?”

  Jarrod chokes on his water and Ryan laughs his ass off. He hits Jarrod with his elbow. “I told you she’s a spitfire.”

  Jarrod nods, never taking his pretty greens off me. “I’m game if you are.” He licks his lips and I have absolutely no doubt his double meaning stands true.

  He looks like he wants to skip the whole eating part and go straight for the nitty gritty.

  With my forearms on the table, I lean toward Ryan. “Mr. Wicker, if you would, please bring me Mr. Hollins’ favorite dish, and him mine.”

  Ryan’s brows pull in and Jarrod sits back on a chuckle. “You sure about that?”

  I look at Jarrod and he sweeps his hand, giving me the go ahead. “Yep.” I bounce in my seat.

  “Okay.” Ryan shakes his head, walking off.

  I look back at Jarrod and rub my hands together. “This is fun.”

  He laughs, bringing his hand up to scratch the scruff on his chin and I let my eyes appraise him.

  His blond hair peeks out from underneath his Michigan ball cap. The dark blue makes his green eyes shine brighter. He’s wearing a white, long-sleeved thermal that fits him a little too tight, so his muscles are visible. They’re not large, but defined.

  I reach across the table and rub the hair on his jaw. “I never noticed this. It looks good on you.” He grabs my hand as I go to pull it back.

  He kisses my knuckles, giving me a crooked grin. “I’m beginning to think everything looks good on you.” Right when I’m about to roll my eyes, he leans over and pulls a leaf out of my hair, making us both laugh.

  “I was about to call you on your cliché, so points for you.” He grins at my playful banter.

  “Well, then I guess I won’t waste time telling you how good you look.”

  I nod and place my straw to my lips. “And I won’t sit and pretend like everything you say is hilarious, if in fact, it’s not.” I wink and take a drink.

  He scratches his chin, eyeing me. “You’re something else, you know that?”

  “Yeah.” Releasing a breath, I play with my straw. “That’s what I keep hearing.” I glance out the window.

  He squints his eyes, clearly about to ask me what I mean, but Ryan walks up with our plates.

  At the same time, Jarrod and I say, “What the fuck is that?” We look at each other and bust up laughing.

  “Hey, you asked, I delivered. Enjoy guys,” Ryan says, before rushing off.

  I’m still laughing when I reach out and grab onto Jarrod’s arm. “Okay.” I look to my dish in horror. “Explain this to me, like right now.”

  He’s still grinning. “That’s the Poor Man’s Plate.”

  Eyes wide, I nod. “Uh-huh, and are you a poor man or was this a drunken experiment that ended up working out?”

  He tries to hold it in, but fails. “Okay, yeah, it was a drunken experiment, but it’s delicious.” He picks up his fork and cuts off the end of the gravy-covered hot dog. “Try it,” he says, as he brings it to my lips.

  I narrow my eyes at him, but open up after a few seconds.

  As soon as the bite touches my tongue, I can tell it’s all the wrong flavors for me, but chew it and try to keep my nose from scrunching.

  Once I swallow, I turn to his hopeful eyes. “That shit’s nasty.”

  He drops back against the seat, laughing.

  “Okay,” I pick up my fork and stab into the peanut butter, cream cheese, and syrup-covered French toast on his plate. “Your turn. Open up.” I lean clear across the table and twirl the fork around in circles.

  He opens his mouth and takes the bite like a champ. I laugh loudly when his face scrunches.

  With a shake of his head, he reaches for his water, taking a long pull. “Damn, Lolli, how do you eat that?” He licks his lips and shudders. “Ugh.”

  “Me?” I laugh. Tucking my knees up behind me, I point to my plate. “That shit’s ridiculous.”

  We eye each other’s plates.

  “You know this was a win-win situation, right?” I ask him.

  He looks disturbed. “Yeah? How is that exactly?”

  “All we have to do now is trade and we’ll each have our favorite dish.” I pick up his plate and set it in front of me, moving mine in front of him. “See. Perfecto.”

  I take a quick bite. “Mmm…. so much better.”

  Jarrod nods, taking a bite of his disgusting ass food. “I’m glad you suggested switching. I don’t know if I would’ve manned up and admitted I didn’t like it if you hadn’t.”

  “Really?” I ask him, unbelievingly. Because honestly, that’s super unattractive.

  If a guy can’t even be honest about food...

  He nods and take a drink of water. “I can almost guarantee I’d be sitting here right now, forcing myself to eat that crap you call food.”

  I smile, leaning over the table. “Well good thing I’m the one with the balls then, huh?” I tease in a quiet voice.

  He takes my cue, not knowing I’m trying to test this out and meets me halfway, placing a peck of a kiss on my lips.

  He pulls back, eyes playful, and whispers, “You taste nasty.”

  I bubble up with laughter, but it quickly dies in my throat, lodging there like a ball of powder sugar would.

  My body turns rigid, causing my brows to pull in and my eyes to tighten. I must look as off as I feel, because Jarrod asks if I’m alright, but I don’t respond.

  On its own accord, my head turns to look over my shoulder, and there he is. Standing just inside the doorway, staring right at me. His crooked ass grin in place.

  Nate.

  What the fuck?

  I narrow my eyes and he smirks in return, but then he takes in mine and Jarrod’s proximity and his gaze hardens, those dark eyes slicing from my date to me.

  Planning to ignore him, I turn back to Jarrod, but he’s not focused on me. Nope. He’s looking behind me, his jaw growing tenser by the second.

  I know he’s coming over here. There’s no way he wouldn’t.

  I keep my eyes locked on Jarrod’s, watching as he goes on the defense. He leans back, slouching into his corner in a cool, calm, and collected kind of way; though, I’m thinking he’s anything but. He casually lifts his arm, laying it across the back of the booth, hi
s other holding onto his water glass.

  He tilts his head to the side and jerks his chin, acknowledging our uninvited guests as they walk up.

  “Wassup, Hollins?” Austin booms, as he throws himself into the seat next to Jarrod. He wiggles his brows at me when I look at him. “Lolli, how you doin’?”

  “Peachy Keen, jellybean.” I give him a sideways smirk.

  “Not sick of French toast yet, huh, Kalani?” Nate smirks, and I see Jarrod’s head shift toward me out my peripheral.

  Please, boy. You think you’re going to make me squirm? Negative, Ghost Rider.

  I keep my eyes locked on his as I take another bite, scraping the fork with my teeth to be annoying. “That’s not a thing.”

  Nate laughs and sits down.

  Right next to me.

  “What can we do for you guys?” Jarrod boldly asks and I raise an eyebrow at the boys.

  Austin laughs. “We interrupting something?” He doesn’t let anyone answer before he speaks again. “Some of the guys are meeting here in a few. Want to join us?”

  “Sorry man, but,” he looks at me and I give him a forced smile, “me and Lolli are hanging for a while.”

  “Yeah,” I say, taking another bite. “Stop trying to steal my date, Nine.”

  Nate scoffs and I reach down to pinch his thigh.

  He doesn’t even flinch.

  “Fine, fine. You can have him for a while,” Austin teases. “Oh hey, Hollins-” Austin starts asking him something but I have no idea what.

  All I can focus on is the large hand that’s making its way up my thigh.

  I turn to look at Nate and the smirk that I know is on his lips. I fully intended to narrow my eyes, but the instant our gazes lock, his cocky smile falters. Those dark eyes search my face and his brows pull in, causing his forehead to wrinkle.

  Why does he look worried?

  “Nate?”

  Both our heads snap toward the other two people occupying this table, one being my seemingly annoyed date.

  “What’s up?” he asks Jarrod in a bored tone.

  “I said I’ll hit you up later.” Jarrod holds eye contact with Nate, whose smirk only grows.

  He squeezes my thigh before sliding out of the booth. “You do that,” he tells him, then turns and winks at me before making his way to the other side of the diner, Austin chuckling behind him.

  After a few awkward moments of silence, Jarrod and I get back into a good flow of conversation – football.

  We talk while I pretend I can’t sense Nate’s eyes on me.

  Jerk.

  Once we’ve finished our meals, Jarrod reaches across the table and grabs my hand, giving me his most charming smile.

  I try real hard to make it set me off in some type of way, but it doesn’t. It’s attractive, that’s for sure, but it’s a practiced and overused smile that I don’t care to see.

  Damn.

  When he leans over the table, I decide to meet him halfway. Maybe his kiss will redeem himself for the smile. But when his lips touch mine, I can’t help but notice how pinched tight they are or how they’re the wrong size. They’re not…commanding.

  So much for wishful thinking.

  He pulls away and stands with a smile. “Be right back. I’m gonna hit the bathroom.”

  My phone beeps so I pick it up and shake it in the air. “And I’m gonna check that.” He grins and walks off.

  I pull up my messages and laugh out loud.

  Handsome: you’re killing me smalls…

  Reaching around, I grab the back of my seat, my gaze finding his. His mouth is in a tight line, but there are crinkles around his eyes so I can’t quite gauge him.

  My phone vibrates in my hands and he lifts his in the air.

  I turn around and look down at my screen.

  Handsome: don’t kiss him again.

  Um…what?

  Who does he think he is?

  And why do I feel like I just took a double shot of espresso?

  First things first…

  Me: one, don’t act like you watched a lick of that movie. You fell asleep remember?

  Handsome: I accept your offer for a redo.

  I roll my eyes at my screen. Before I can respond, another message comes through.

  Handsome: lets hear number two...

  I know for a fact he’s smirking right now.

  Dick.

  Me: I’ll kiss whoever I want.

  Handsome: good. Nothing for me to worry about.

  Okay, Mister Confident.

  With a sly smile, I type out my response.

  Me: what did we decide about making assumptions when it came to me, Monroe?

  With a winking smiley face emoji, I hit send.

  His response doesn’t surprise me. Not even a little bit.

  Handsome: don’t kiss him again.

  Smirking, I turn my head and wiggle my eyebrows at him.

  His chair slides back as he stands. Leaning his hip against the edge of the table, he crosses his arms over his chest. I’m not even going to comment on how that move makes the sleeves of his t-shirt stretch tighter around those concrete biceps of his. The ones my hands were rubbing on this morning.

  He’s challenging me, but as my eyes rake over him, I can’t even be mad.

  Apparently, I’m not the only one who appreciates the view because two girls I recognize from school slide right up to him. One leans into his side, running her hand down his arm, while the other mimics his stance directly in front of him.

  He glances down at them briefly, then back at me. I raise my eyebrows and mouth “nice” with a huge smile on my face and his eyes narrow more.

  Laughing, I turn around right as Jarrod steps up to the table.

  He wipes his hands on his khakis.

  I hate khaki.

  “Ready?”

  I pop out of my seat, finishing off what’s left of my disgustingly watered down soda, then turn back to him with a smile. “Yep. Thanks for the invite.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiles, throwing some cash down on the table. “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”

  Quickly glancing at my phone, I see it’s only 2:15 pm. “I don’t know. Probably drag Parker to the store with me.” I scrunch my nose. “I’m running low on junk food.”

  He chuckles and steps toward me.

  I can tell by the way he’s looking at me with his eyes half-closed that he’s gonna kiss me. I smile, knowing Nate’s watching, but Jarrod assumes it’s for him and grins.

  He reaches out, places his hand on my forearm, then leans down.

  I tilt my head back the slightest bit.

  Just as his lips touch mine, an arm wraps around my middle and pulls me back. Hard.

  Jarrod’s eyes shoot wide open, then narrow, all in the same second. His eyes drop to the arm around my waist then dart to the brazen man-boy it belongs to. “What the fuck, Nate?” His eyes slice to mine.

  I simply shrug one shoulder non-committedly.

  Don’t ask me.

  Jarrod’s brows pull in and his head jerks back.

  Nate’s grip on me tightens.

  And me? I’m too curious to see how this pans out to say or do a damn thing.

  “Back off, Monroe,” Jarrod seethes. “Go back to your groupies.” He throws an arm out, motioning to the direction Nate came from. “Lolli, came here with me.”

  I feel Nate stand taller behind me. “Yeah, well. I never should have let that happen.”

  Let that happen?

  Let that happen?

  My eyes widen as my mouth drops open.

  Oh, fuck to the no...

  I go to turn, but as if prepared for my reaction, Nate’s free hand finds my hip, effectively rooting me in place.

  Bastard.

  Jarrod lets out a humorless laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He places one hand on his hip, while the other motions toward me. “You got a thing for her or something?”

  Nate ignores his question and turns
us both. His hand still locked around me, he shuffles us toward the door in awkward movements.

  I hear Austin’s obnoxious laugh and throw my middle finger over my head at him right before the door slams behind us.

  As we exit the diner, Nate lets go of my waist and quickly grabs onto my wrist, pulling me toward his truck. He makes sure we’re out of sight from the restaurant windows before he cages me in, his chest firmly against mine, my back against his Hummer.

  Eyes closed, he rests his forehead against the window just over my left shoulder, his arms set stiff at his sides.

  I think about shoving him off, calling him out for his macho-man act back there, but when I feel his chest heaving against mine, I don’t.

  His breathing is erratic.

  Angry.

  Excited?

  Brows pulled in, I lift my right hand and place it over his heart. Sure enough, it’s beating wildly. Uncontrollably.

  I can feel the heat of his body under my palm.

  Unsure why, but not necessarily caring, my hands find his shoulders. Gently, I drag them up and down his forearms.

  Tension rolls off him instantly, as if my touch is soothing in some way.

  On their own accord, my hands glide up and over his firm deltoids, down his solid chest, then back up until my fingertips graze the edge of his dark brown hair.

  When his strong hands find my hips, gripping them like a lifeline, a small moan escapes me and my forehead drops to his chest.

  My hands slide further up, loving the sharp feeling of his fresh crew cut as it flits across my fingertips.

  With a slight bend, he fits his left foot between mine, his thick thigh now pushing into my center. Turning his head, he skims his nose painfully slow over my cheekbone, his hot breath cascading over my jawline, both leaving a burning trail in their wake. His lips brush up my chin, stopping once his top lip is settled between my upper and lower one, but still a breath’s space away.

  “Want to tell me what happened in there, Handsome?”

  At this point, we’re both breathing heavily. The pressure of his heaving chest against my now sensitive one is an intoxicating feeling.