Yours Truly (Part of Your World, #2)(55)

He gave me a shrug and a small smile.

I shook my head and wandered around looking at his stuff while he followed me silently. He had a big floor-to-ceiling bookshelf with framed photos tucked into it. Lots of plants. There was a prescription bottle for anxiety meds next to the coffeemaker in the kitchen.

He’d never mentioned being on medication for his anxiety, but I kind of figured. I liked that he managed his mental health. Better than punching holes in walls.

I picked up the bottle and shook it. “Does it help?”

He gave me a nod. “It does. A lot.”

“Good.”

I set the bottle down.

There was a remarkable amount of color in his house. Yellow walls, pops of blue, colorful backsplash in the kitchen, nice artwork. He had a pretty chandelier over the small table and stained glass hanging in a window.

He hovered just behind me, quiet. Like this inspection was a test and he was waiting for his grade.

“It’s not like I thought it was going to be,” I said, picking up a vanilla candle and sniffing it.

“How did you think it was going to be?” he asked from behind me.

I shrugged, setting the candle down. “I don’t know. The way guys’ places usually are. Cold and gray and serious. Or totally empty and you sleep on a mattress on the floor. I like it,” I said, turning to him.

The corners of his lips twitched up.

“Did you decorate it yourself?” I asked.

“I did.”

“You did a great job. You need a framed picture of us, though. In case your family comes over.”

“I have one. It’s next to the bed.”

I put a hand on my chest. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve thought of everything.”

He grinned.

I nodded toward the hallway. “Do I get to see your bedroom?”

“Of course.”

I followed him down a hall lined with framed family photos. We passed a small half-bathroom on the left. He opened a door at the end of the hallway and stood back to let me in.

His large room was clean and neat—hardwood floors with an Aztec rug under the bed. He had a wall-to-wall bookshelf, filled with more books. A forest green tufted chair with a throw pillow on it sat by the window. There was another bathroom at the other end of the room and a large dog bed for Lieutenant Dan in the corner. He had a small workout area with a rowing machine, and an organized weight rack with a rolled yoga mat leaning against it. There were a few plants, an abstract painting over the headboard—and the bed, with a white duvet and a mustard-colored throw folded down at the end.

The second I saw his bed, my heart did a small somersault. This was where he slept.

This is where he has sex…

The thought of that made me a little breathless. Because I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about Jacob and sex over the last three weeks. A lot.

I found him unbelievably attractive. He was in great shape. But I was obsessed with his collarbone. It was the most random thing. I never knew a collarbone could be sexy until Jacob. Maybe because I saw so little of his body, I found the parts I could see so erotic? His forearms, his neck, his Adam’s apple. The other day at the park he was playing with one of the twins and his shirt hiked up and I almost died looking at the two inches of stomach and the trail of hair I got to see.

And I loved the way he smelled. When we were in front of people we knew and we had to look like a couple, the first thing I did was get close enough to smell him. It was like clean laundry and soap. This room smelled like that. This whole place was Jacob, concentrated.

And I could picture us in this bed. I could imagine us coming back after a day of hanging out and maybe we’d be a little drunk and maybe he’d kiss me and maybe…

Maybe…

It was a dangerous word, maybe. And it was one I’d been thinking. A lot.

I couldn’t deny how I was starting to feel.

It was like I was one of the abused animals he rescued. Like I was being coaxed out with food and soft words and gentle pats and I was starting to feel safe. And my hard NO to never being in a relationship again had begun to turn into a maybe…

But only with him.

Not that he was interested. Not that it was a good idea, even if he was. He was still in love with Amy. We worked together, he was Benny’s kidney donor. If something between us went badly, I didn’t want it to affect our working relationship or how he felt about what he was doing for my brother. It wasn’t a good idea to muddy things or cross lines.

But I didn’t want anyone else in this bed with him either.

The idea made me feel sort of panicked.

I didn’t want anyone else to get handwritten letters. I didn’t want him to smile at another woman or hang out with them. I felt oddly possessive of him and this little universe we’d built, which was equal parts ridiculous and scary, because how much of our universe was even real?

He was spending time with me so we could survive the scrutiny we’d be under once Amy was around. He was probably only coming over so much to take the pictures we needed and get to know each other enough to pull off our fake dating. If that wasn’t a factor, would he be hanging out with me at all?

He spoke from behind me. “I told you I have a headboard.”

I laughed a little too loudly. When I turned around, he was leaning in the doorway. He had his arms crossed and he was gazing at me with those soft brown eyes.