Crashed Out (Made in Jersey, #1)(23)

“I told your sister what’s been happening.”

Jesus. He didn’t know if he should be horrified or glad their encounters had been enough of an event for Jasmine that she’d felt the need to share. “Okay. That might make things a little weird, but I’ve lived on a bus with musicians. Weird is my new normal.”

She gave him that lip-pursing smile that tilted her eyes. “An example, please.”

“Our bass player saves his toenails in a coffee can for good luck.”

Jasmine whistled low beneath her breath. “Good one.”

“Yeah? It never upended in your bunk.” It felt so good holding her face and watching her smile gain momentum. He could have stood there the rest of his life and it wouldn’t have gotten old. “Come inside. Don’t leave because of the weird.”

She cast a sidelong look at the house. “Maybe for a little while.”

“That’ll work until I can get a better answer.” Sarge let his thumb trace over her temple, down to her jawline, memorizing the awareness that crept over both of them, breath by breath. The way her stomach went concave against his belt buckle, then shuddered back out. After making sure no one from the house was watching through the window, he dropped both hands and settled them low on her hips, the contact hidden by the sides of his jacket. “You going to let me make you feel good again, Jas?”

Doubt trickled into her expression. “I don’t know yet.”

“Good. I’m kind of enjoying the convincing process.” Sarge coasted a hand over her waistline, flattening it at the small of her back, just above the flare of her ass. “And you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Yeah?” Did he imagine the way she arched and tempted his hand lower? “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He nudged her forehead with his own. “I’m the last person you should be afraid of, baby.”

“You were the baby,” she breathed.

“You’re overthinking again. Remember what happens when you do that?”

She did an inward roll of her lips and let them pop back out, juicer than before. “You make me stop thinking?”

“That’s right.” Fuck it. He was going to kiss her. Right there, in the light, on the pathway to his sister’s house. That mouth was his. He couldn’t stand living in a world where he hadn’t kissed her yet. They were so close he could feel her minty breath ghosting over his lips and he knew it wouldn’t be gentle. She was about to get the kind of kiss that would get her legs up around his waist like a f*cking clamp. It was a bad idea right now. Yeah, it really was. But sometimes good things came from the worst ideas, right? “I hope you’re okay with being wet at the dinner table.”

He yanked her closer—

“Sarge,” River called from the porch. “Jasmine isn’t the main course.”

With a sigh brimming with frustration, Sarge dropped his chin onto Jasmine’s head. “Forget what I said. Weird is overrated.”

When Jasmine backed away, he wrestled with the urge to hang on, but common sense descended, forcing him to follow her up the path. “Hey Riv,” he called over Jasmine’s head.

His sister twisted a dish towel in her hands. “Well, it’s been over a decade, but I finally paid you back for interrupting my first kiss with Vaughn.” Both he and Jasmine drew up short at the mention of her ex’s name, but River waved the towel at them. “Don’t look at me like that. I can say his name out loud, can’t I? Anyway, nothing can ruin my mood tonight. I get to have dinner with my two favorite people. Even though they were getting ready to make out on my walkway.”

Jasmine turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “See, you get to leave and avoid the jokes. I have to stay and live with them.”

Sarge laughed, but the sound was void of any actual humor. Thankfully, neither Jasmine nor River seemed to notice as they entered the house. Jasmine’s quip had been a nice little reminder that she would be just peachy once he left. No pining on her end. Just his, as always.

Unless he did something about it.

His dark thoughts were obliterated when a tiny blond fairy sprinted across his line of vision, before skidding to a halt and falling with a plop onto her butt. At first, he couldn’t see her face because the tumble had loosened her ponytail and covered her face with hair. Hands covered in paint scrambled to push it out of her eyes. Eyes that locked on him like big blue spotlights. Sarge felt his heart grow about fifteen damn sizes inside his chest…

“Mommy, who’s that man?”

…and then it up and shattered all over the floor like a glass balloon.

River helped her daughter stand. “Remember, Marcy? I told you Uncle Sarge was coming over to eat dinner at our house. Uncle Sarge is Mommy’s brother.”

Her tiny nose wrinkled. “Celia’s brother is little. Why is yours big?”

“Celia is her friend from school,” River explained before kneeling down beside her daughter. “Sarge is much older than Celia’s little brother. Someday her little brother will grow up, too.”

Marcy gave Sarge a once-over. “Can I hold this one in a blanket?”

The two women covered their mouths to hold in laughter, but Sarge had no such problem. He was too fascinated by the miniature version of his sister to consider laughing. When he realized the silence had gone on too long and everyone was staring at him, he shook himself. “I have a thing. A, uh…thing.” He swiped the jewelry case out of his back pocket, held it awkwardly for a few seconds, before holding it out to Marcy.