Anything for You (Blue Heron #5)(17)

I want to look at you.

Just the memory of those words made her chest feel tight. Because when he looked at her, she didn’t feel like Jessica Does at all.

She felt new.

It was scary, and it was exhilarating, and Connor knew what he was doing, and he could kiss, and he knew where to touch, and he wouldn’t hurry, but when he was finally on top of her, and they were finally together, she came to the edge...and stopped, hanging there, stuck.

And then he used his words again. “Trust me,” he’d whispered against her mouth, and she was gone, lifted on a wave of purple and red with flashes of white, a feeling of her body not being her own, and being held safe at the same time.

Another first. The trust part. The safe feeling.

What to do now was a complete and utter mystery. Should she get up? Should she move closer to him? This bed was enormous. Brush her teeth? Call for coffee? Hide?

Connor took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Turned his head to look at her.

“Hey,” she said.

He didn’t speak. Just gave her a sleepy smile that made her girl parts tighten and thrum. He reached out and took a piece of her hair between his fingers. “Hey, Jessica Does,” he said.

Her heart stopped. She felt it crack the second before it was abruptly encased in ice.

“Oh, shit,” he said, bolting upright. “I did not mean that.”

“Time for you to go,” she said, and her voice was calm.

“Jess, I’m sorry. I didn’t— I’m just— I really shouldn’t be allowed to speak without coffee—”

She got out of bed, consciously not taking the comforter with her. So she was naked. So what. He’d seen everything last night. Walking into the bathroom, she kept her breathing calm. No big deal. No big deal. She pulled on the hotel bathrobe and cinched it too tightly around her waist.

No big deal.

“Jessica,” Connor said, standing in the doorway, boxers on. “Please forgive me for that stupid-ass mistake.”

“It’s not really a mistake, though, is it?” she said, picking up her toothbrush. “I put out, as you know. Welcome to the club. Go home and tell the gang another one bites the dust. But at this moment, you need to leave.” She started brushing her teeth, not looking at him.

He came to stand behind her. She stared at her own reflection, not looking at his. “Look, that just...came out,” he said. “I’m not exactly a virgin, either, you know.”

“And now you’ve slept with me, like half our graduating class. You should’ve just asked. The whole dinner thing was unnecessary.”

“Jessica.” There was a reprimand in his voice that infuriated her.

“I have other things to do, Connor. Can you get dressed, please?”

“Okay, since you brought it up, why did you sleep with all those other guys?”

“None of your business. Excuse me.” She pushed him out of the bathroom and closed and locked the door. Checked her reflection again. Normal enough, she thought, though it was sort of like looking at a stranger. Her throat was killing her, clamped tight, impossible to swallow.

Jessica Does.

That f*cking name would follow her the rest of her life.

“Jess,” Connor said through the door, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it. It just kind of... It was just a reflex. But last night was—”

She opened the door. “Save it for the next girl, okay? I have to get going. I’m working tonight.”

“I don’t want there to be a next girl. I just want to erase the last five minutes.”

“Too bad you can’t. Take care. Thanks for dinner.”

Then she closed the door again, locked it and turned on the shower.

* * *

WHEN SHE GOT home that day, her brother was sitting on the steps, waiting for her. “Was it fun?” he asked as she stopped to hug him and pet Chico Two. “Did you eat room service?”

“I did,” she lied. The truth was, she’d fled right after her shower, as soon as she was sure Connor had left. “I brought you the little shampoos and bath stuff. They smell really good. Wait till you take your shower tonight.” Davey hated showers; maybe the new stuff would entice him into cleanliness.

See? She was back to normal, thinking about her brother. She went into her bedroom.

There was a bouquet of flowers on her bed.

“The truck man said these were for you,” Davey said. “They smell nice.”

Irises and roses and a fat lily and a bunch of other flowers she didn’t recognize. They were just about the prettiest things she’d ever seen, a riot of purple and pink and red.

The card said, Please forgive me. No signature.

“Why don’t you give them to Mom?” she asked her brother, ruffling his soft hair. “I have to run.”

* * *

AT LEAST HE couldn’t call her. Jess was so, so glad Connor didn’t have her phone number. He sent a note, but she tossed it. And for the next couple of months, she did what she did best—she didn’t think about something that was too painful to think about. She just worked. At Christmastime, his entire family came into Hugo’s, which opened for the holidays. And yes, her stomach flipped when she saw them. But hey. She was a waitress; they were her customers. Nothing else. “Hello, Clan O’Rourke,” she said amiably. “How’s everyone tonight?”