The Lineup(81)

To say my ovaries ache is an understatement.

And to answer his question, am I “totally crushing” on him?

Yes, in fact I am.

I’m crushing really hard.

“Come on.” He rattles my hand. “You can admit it. I can see it in your eyes, so even if you try to deny the crushing, I know it’s there. I know it’s how you’re feeling. Might be nice to hear it from your beautiful lips.”

“You want me to sit here and pump your ego?”

“Yes, that would be amazing. Thanks.”

I shake my head in laughter and let out a long sigh. I lull my head to the side and say, “Yes, I’m crushing on you. Are you happy?”

“Very. Now, tell me in detail what exactly you’re crushing on. Don’t leave one stone unturned.”

“Be happy I confessed to crushing on you.”

“I’m always happy, but I want to feel giddy.” He squeezes my hand. “Won’t you make that happen for me? Make me feel a special tingle deep in my soul?”

“Why do I even choose to hang out with you?” I ask, chuckling. I can feel a deep tingle, but it’s not in my soul, that’s for damn sure.

“That’s what I want to know. Let me hear it. Three things, and then I’ll say three things about you.”

He turns right after stopping at a traffic light and heads toward my apartment.

“You go first,” I say, feeling almost shy.

“That’s fair. Three things I like about you? How could I possibly narrow it down to just three? There are just so many things—”

“Okay, just get on with it.”

“Bossy, I like that you’re bossy. I really like it when you’re trying to get your way with me and I don’t follow your orders. The look of displeasure that crosses your face. God, so fucking cute.”

No one has ever liked me for being bossy . . . ever. Jason really is in his own world, maybe universe.

“I think your intelligence and drive is really fucking sexy. It doesn’t hurt that you look like a queen in a power suit.”

“A queen, huh?”

“Total dynasty.” He winks. “And the third thing I like about you is this. You might put up this tough front, a total boss bitch, but deep down, you’re a softy just like me.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that.”

“Please. I saw the way you looked at that little girl today. You lit up when she started jumping up and down in excitement. And you comforted me while I was having a special moment with the trash can earlier. If you didn’t have a kind heart, you would have gone off on more rides. There are other examples, but my point is, you’re a softy, but you just don’t show it off as much as I do.”

I stare out the window, watching the familiar buildings pass by. “I wasn’t always jaded, you know. There was a time where I was more easygoing, not so stiff all the time. But a few rough relationships will change your perspective.”

“That’s why you need to be in the right relationship.”

“And let me guess, the right one is with you?” I chuckle, but he answers with a serious tone.

“You tell me.”

“I think it is,” I say, taking a second to observe his hard, carved jaw, and the smallest of dimples etched in the corners of his cheeks. You wouldn’t see it head-on, but from this angle, I can faintly make it out. This man should have been made with permanent dimples, but then I guess that would be too easy. You have to be close to him to appreciate the simplicity but sexiness of his dimples, and that’s one thing I really like about him. Everyone might get his entertaining personality, but not everyone gets to see this side of him, the way I get to see him. Even Emory and Lindsay probably have no idea just how incredible he is. They called him a good guy, but he’s so much more. Genuine, thoughtful, self-absorbed in a selfless way, even though that sounds like an oxymoron. He’s let me into his private sanctum, and I feel . . . honored. Weird, but true.

“Good answer. Now give me three things you like about me.” He pulls into the parking garage of my apartment complex and parks in the visitor spot next to my car. “Don’t think you’re going to get out of it.”

“As if you would let me.” I turn toward him in my seat and rest my head against the headrest. “Three things, wow, how could I possibly narrow it down?” I say with humor, copying him.

He playfully pokes my side. “Get on with it.”

Looking him in the eyes, I say, “Your infectious smile, it’s hard to be around you and not be in a good mood and it starts with your smile.” He delivers that smile. “Your caring heart. You’re a giver in many ways when given your stature and celebrity, you could easily be a taker. It’s sexy.” He takes my hand in his and links our fingers. “And I would be remiss to leave out the most important attribute . . .” He waits on bated breath. “Your butt, it’s just too good to leave out of the top three.”

“Fuck.” His smile grows bigger. “I think I might cry.” He pretends to get choked up and waves his hand in front of his face. “You know how important my ass is to me. You get me, Dottie. You get me.”

“Oddly, I do.”

“Which is why”—he reaches behind my seat and lifts up a duffel bag—“I brought an overnight bag.”