“Despite how much you hate me, I keep thinking about you.” He hands over the box and I take it from him with numb fingers. “A lot.”
“Like how you want to murder me with your bare hands?” I twist the box within my grip, mangling it further. I owe him a new one. Good thing I overcharged.
“I’d rather do something a lot more fun to you with my bare hands,” he whispers, his mouth curving into the slightest smile.
For once, I’ve got nothing. My throat is dry, my heart rate is going triple time and I’m feeling more than a little overwhelmed at his simple words. “You don’t mean it.”
“I definitely do.” His gaze drops to the box in my hands. “I think we’ll need a new one.”
We both come to a full stand together, my head just reaching his shoulder. Perfect height for me to tear off his shirt and run my mouth all over his hot, hard skin. “You’re right,” I say weakly. “Let me put together another one.”
He says nothing as I trash the first box and put together the second one with even shakier hands. But I succeed in getting it in place and I settle the candle inside, sealing it before I grab a label and take down his mother’s address.
I’m not acknowledging what he said. I’m not acknowledging what I’m thinking either. This is all a big mistake. If I even consider pursuing this…thing between us, I know he’ll just use me up and spit me out. I don’t want to risk it. I’m not a risky person. I hedge safe bets. Hell, I usually don’t bet at all. I test the waters, test them again, then test them yet again before I finally jump in.
Shep is a jump in without a thought type of guy. I can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…
“Go out with me tonight.”
“Okay.”
I slap my hand over my mouth, which just makes him laugh. Jerk. Smug, gorgeous, hot as hell jerk.
“No taking it back,” he says once his laughter dies. Those dark eyes of his go even darker if that’s possible. “You’re mine tonight, Jade.”
“Wh-what exactly do you have planned?” I clear my throat, hating how nervous I sound. The man unnerves me like no other.
“Don’t know yet,” he answers, not sounding bothered by his lack of planning at all. “I’m sure it’ll be something amazing though.”
For once, I don’t plan on calling him out for his arrogance. I’m actually finding it attractive, which I would never admit to him. “Want to meet here? I get off work at five.”
“I am a true gentleman, Jade. I refuse to meet you anywhere.” He smiles. “I’ll come pick you up.”
“And let you see where I live? I don’t think so.” I shake my head.
Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Really? You’re still on the Shep is a stalker kick? Because I can reassure you, I am definitely not.”
“Fine.” I blow out an exasperated breath. He’s relentless. Or I just easily give in when it comes to him. “Hand me your phone.”
He does so, purposely touching me again. And there’s that spark again, too. Yikes. I start to add my name and phone number to his contacts but hesitate. Should I give him my number?
You so want to. Give it up girl.
I enter my phone number then my address and hand the phone back to him. He takes it, frowning at my entry before he lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. “You live in the dorms?”
I shrug. “I’m a freshman. Kelli and I are roommates.”
“Your friend at the party last night?”
“Yeah.”
“Your friend you were sitting with at the poker game?”
I nod.
“How old are you anyway?”
“Nineteen.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, my go-to defensive pose. He does the same thing, mirroring me right down to the way I’m standing, one foot sort of cocked out. “Do you have a problem with that?” I ask coolly.
He smiles and shakes his head, dropping his arms back to his sides. “None whatsoever. I don’t discriminate. Age is nothing but a number.”
I roll my eyes. “What time will you pick me up?” I ask.
“I’ll text you later and let you know.” He starts toward the front door and I stare, unabashedly admiring that long legged stride of his, the easy way he moves. It’s almost overwhelming, how hot he is.
And he’s definitely, outrageously hot.
“You didn’t give me your number,” I shout at him as he opens the door, his broad back still to me.
“I’ll give it to you in a minute,” he answers from over his shoulder before he leaves, the door slamming shut behind him.
I plop down into the chair behind the counter and let out a harsh breath, resting my hand over my chest. My heart is racing and I swear I’m lightheaded, all from our little encounter.
So crazy. He shouldn’t affect me this way. I shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t matter. But somehow, someway, he does. He’s wormed himself into my brain and I can’t stop thinking about him. Apparently he feels the same way.
Weird.
My phone beeps and I pull it out of my pocket, unable to stop the smile that curves my lips.
Here’s your text. And my number.
I decide to answer him.
Promise you won’t stalk me?
Promise.
A pause.
But I can’t promise I won’t become obsessed with you…