Jock Row (Jock Hard #1)(64)

Mrs. Wade is tall, the familiar smile on her pretty face spreading. She does a good enough job trying to disguise it behind a coffee mug, but I catch it.

And there is no hiding her twinkling green eyes.

They’re just like her son’s.

“So I’m just going to throw this out there then let the two of you go on your way—and feel free to shoot the idea down,” she starts, leaning over the counter and steepling her fingers. “Don and I were talking to our friend Ken, who works at the cruise line, and he managed to get an extra cabin this weekend.”

Cabin?

Heat climbs my neck. Is she implying what I think she’s implying?

“Don’t look so horrified, they’re not adjoining rooms.” She laughs. “We thought it would be so fun for the four of us to go, kind of like a really long double date!”

Go with them? Go with them where?

She prattles on, taking another sip from her white ceramic mug. “What do you think? Leave tomorrow, back on Monday? Two nights, bim bam boom?”

Rowdy’s fingers find the belt loops of my jeans and give them a little tug so I know he’s come up behind me.

“Go with you on your cruise?” Rowdy asks into the crown of my head, above me.

My heart thumps harder.

Mrs. Wade—Hannah—waves a hand airily. “Just a quick jaunt to the islands down south.”

The islands down south means the Caribbean. Fish and coral reefs and buckets of seashells.

“I understand if you planned on just lying around, so go discuss it. Dad is jonesing for some tacos so we’re running down to grab a few from the cart down the block before they close up shop, but we’ll be back in twenty minutes. I should let Ken know within the hour if he can release the cabin for booking or if we’re taking it.”

She is so casual about it—having me in the house, taking me on a vacation.

As if any of this is normal.

“Think about it, kids—we’d have the whole weekend to get to know each other!”

Rowdy groans, but his fingers tickle the waistband of my pants. “Wanna talk about it? Bring your bags upstairs?” His tall frame reaches for my suitcase, still sitting on the floor next to the mudroom door, and when I go to remove it from his hands, he shoos me away. “I got it.”

He insists I climb the stairs first—they’re conveniently located off the kitchen, his bedroom the first door at the top. Dumping everything as we enter, he leads me inside, closing the door behind him.

We’re alone.

In his childhood bedroom.

My eyes are drawn back to him as he plops down on the bed unceremoniously, bouncing on the mattress, excited. “What do you think? Wanna go?”

Yes, yes, yes!

I want to go so bad it’s a damn miracle I didn’t burst into song and dance in the middle of his parents’ kitchen—but I do the moment I shut his bedroom door behind us. Blood courses through my entire body, the liquid oxygen making me lightheaded and dazed, flushing with anticipation.

I hop in place, a high-pitched squeak causing him to quirk an eyebrow.

“Sooo that’s a yes?”

Week after week of getting to know me on the front porch of the baseball house, I know I’ll never be able to fake him out. Never be able to be coyly demure.

Even if I wasn’t dancing in his bedroom, he’d be able to read me better than most of my friends can.

I calm myself, inhaling a few quick breaths. “I want to go so bad.”

“I knew you’d say yes.”

I push him down onto the mattress and crawl over him, staring down into his eyes. “Did you plan this?”

Shrug. “I may have already known my parents could get a second room so we could go along, but I didn’t know if you would say yes.”

My blue eyes narrow, lips hovering inches from his. “Was this an ambush?”

Rowdy licks his lips. “My mom is a hopeless romantic—she’ll do anything to get me into a committed relationship.” He cranes his neck, pressing a kiss to my mouth. “I haven’t brought a girl home since I was in high school, and it was probably for some stupid dance.”

“So I’m special?” I tease him, wanting to hear the words. Dying for them.

“So special I want to parade you all over the place when we get back to school—I’m going to force all my pissant friends to spend time with you.”

“God, please don’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because they…don’t like me.” They think I’m annoying.

“Tough shit. They’ll get used to it.”

“Are you keeping me?”

“Can I?” His hands slide from my ribs to my back, caressing my spine, big and warm and secure.

Mmm. “I’ll think about it.”

“In the meantime, I should probably pack, too—throw some shit into an overnight bag.” He shoots me a grin, slaps me on the ass.

“I’m surprised you haven’t done that already, you shady bastard.”

He gives those broad shoulders another shrug. “Sue me for wanting to see you in a swimsuit.”

“You would have seen me in one eventually.”

“Did you bring a one-piece or a bikini?” he demands, gaze skimming down the front of my shirt to where my breasts are plumped up from being squeezed against his chest.