Straight Up Love (The Boys of Jackson Harbor #2)(24)

It occurs to me that maybe I’ve always been too hard on him. After all, I usually see him at work, where he’s operating under a lot of pressure, but tonight, his rough edges seem softer, his demeanor warmer—despite the fact that I just sprayed him with tequila and sweet-and-sour mix.

“Good for you,” I say. “I imagine your job has to be pretty stressful right now.” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and wish I hadn’t brought it up.

“With the layoffs?”

I nod. “Yeah. Everyone’s worried, but I’m sure it’s stressful for you too.”

“Are you?” he asks. His gaze dips down to my cleavage. Why did I let Ellie talk me into this dress? “Worried about the layoffs, I mean?”

I shrug. “I’m trying to prepare for anything, but obviously it’s hard not to worry a little when the future is uncertain.”

“May I tell you something in confidence?” His gaze dips again, this time lingering.

Okay, his eyes on my tits are making me feel super slimy. “Of course.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about. You’ve been there longer than anyone else in your department.”

“Seriously?” I let out a long breath, and relief washes like a cool shower over me. “That’s good to hear.”

“We’ve gotta look out for each other, right?” He thumbs the condensation off his glass. “Two single people just trying to get by.”

There’s that vague sense of sliminess again. “Um, right.” I force a smile, lecturing myself to be kind to him. What can a smile hurt?

He scoots his chair a couple of inches closer to mine and leans in. I rest my gaze on my margarita. Looking at him when he’s this close makes this feel like the date it was supposed to be. “I can’t say I was disappointed when I realized you were my date,” he says.

I snap my gaze to his just as he puts his hand on my knee.

Holy fucking shit. Mr. Mooney is touching my bare knee. Alarm bells go off in my head. “Mr. Mooney?”

He squeezes lightly. “Call me Mark. This is a date, right?” He winks at me, and his hand inches a little higher.

I shift in my seat, trying to pull away from his touch in the most casual way possible. I don’t want to make a scene or make him uncomfortable, but his hand on my leg is definitely not okay with me.

He doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he shifts too, following me, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of my skirt. “What do you say we get out of here? Get what we both came for?”

I shake my head. “No thanks,” I whisper. I hate how weak I sound. I’m not the kind of girl who’s afraid to shut a guy down when he’s making unwanted advances, but this is my boss. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.” I shoot up from my chair, and it squeaks as it flies back behind me and clatters to its side. “I think I should go.”

He stands too, and color blooms in his cheeks. “Please, wait.”

I grab my purse and hold tight, as if it’s a life preserver in this disaster of an evening.

“I’m sorry, Ava. I hope you can forgive me for reading this situation all wrong.”

Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “Let’s forget this happened, okay?”

“I hope this won’t make things at work awkward. I value you as an employee.”

Just breathe, Ava. It was a big misunderstanding. “It’s fine.”

He nods, but something in his expression tells me he knows fine is my favorite lie.





Jake


I show up at Ava’s house Sunday morning with a box of fresh donuts and two giant cups of fresh coffee from Ooh La La! I knock on the door before using my key to let myself in, practically holding my breath. Please be here. Please tell me you came home last night, and the date was a complete bust.

“Ava?” I call softly as I walk into the house. It’s dark, but I head to the kitchen, expecting to see her sitting at the table with a book and a cup of coffee. The kitchen’s dark too. “Ava?” I call again, a little louder this time.

I hate the idea of her going home with someone. It’s ridiculous. She’s young and beautiful and deserves a healthy sex life. But the idea eats at me. And she never texted.

Still holding our coffees in each hand and the box of donuts under my arm, I decide to check her bedroom.

Soft morning light filters in through her sheer blue curtains. She’s twisted in her sheets, one bare arm thrown over her head, her hair splayed out on her pillow. The gnawing jealousy of imagining her spending her night with someone else—waking up with someone else—fades and is replaced by a gut-deep ache of lust. Her pink lips are parted slightly, her cheeks flushed.

What would I give to be the man who got to wake up to that face? To start my day by brushing my knuckles over her cheek before lowering my mouth to hers?

I swallow thickly and try to make my feet move, but they don’t. I just want to keep looking at her.

Ava wants a baby more than anything. Being a mom has always been important to her, and ever since she told me her plan, I’ve caught myself plotting ways I could make that happen.

I could grant her the favor she drunkenly asked of me. Jack off into a cup, watch her belly grow with my baby, watch her raise my child. On the one hand, it would feel good to give her what Harrison couldn’t, but on the other hand, I know without a doubt I couldn’t handle the outcome. I’d insert myself into her life so completely that she’d resent me. If Ellie’s worried that a kid will make it hard for Ava to find love, imagine if the kid’s dad refuses to get lost. I can’t stop thinking about her proposal, but I also know it’s not an option.