I Want You Back (Want You #1)(9)

“You’re a . . . nurse.”

“Sort of. But that’s not what pays my bills.”

“How can one ‘sort of’ be a nurse?”

“One guess left.”

“What do I get if I guess correctly?”

“Nothing, because you won’t figure it out.”

I took a swig of beer. “She has a high bullshit meter. She likes to argue. She has a haughty demeanor. She dresses well—feminine yet professional. I’d say a high-powered attorney, but if that were the case you’d be driving a Mercedes, not a Corolla. So my final answer is . . . you’re an advocate in a social services department.”

She made a deep-throated “you missed” buzzer noise and I burst out laughing. Not what I’d expected from her. At all.

“In a show of faith because I’m proud of the fact I graduated from college, I’ll tell you that I’m a graphic designer. Which means I can’t draw for shit, but I’m creative and excel at organizing computer images into functional graphics.”

“Do you like your job?”

“I love it. It’s nearly impossible to find a stable, full-time job now in our industry. Too many graphics people are stuck with freelancing jobs because companies prefer to hire out for specific campaigns, rather than having an in-house graphics department.”

“What do you do for fun?”

Lucy cocked her head, sending that glorious hair cascading onto the table. “What’s with the twenty questions? I thought you intended to prove that you aren’t annoying. Being grilled by a guy who’s embarrassed to confess how he makes a living or refuses to divulge his last name skirts the line from you being annoying into you being an arrogant ass.”

“Point taken.” I smiled and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “I was going for mysterious.”

“You failed, buddy.”

I laughed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much. Especially at my own expense. “Ask me three things about myself.”

“Do you have a closer relationship to your mom or your dad?”

Great question—and one I’d never been asked. “My mom.”

“When was the last time you cried?”

Jesus. She could be a professional interrogator. “Two months ago.”

“What made you cry?”

My subconscious said, I got the fuck beat out of me during the final game of the season and I was pissed off that we lost, but my mouth said, “I had a physical injury.”

“What’s your—”

“Huh-uh, Lucy Q. That was three questions. Anything you ask me from here on out? You have to answer too.”

“Fine. What’s your favorite song?”

“Today it’s ‘Brown Eyed Girl.’ What’s yours?”

She shot back, “‘King of Wishful Thinking,’” without missing a beat.

I laughed. God. This woman. I was already half-crazy about her. “Seriously, Luce. What do you do for fun when you’re not working as a graphic designer?”

Lucy drummed her fingers on the table. “I pick up sexy, nosy, secretive men in car washes.”

“Now I’m crushed that I’m not the first to fall for your prickly charms.”

“Ah. But you are.” Her smiled faded. “I’ll admit . . . it’s been a while since I’ve done anything fun, Jaxson.”

I swallowed my flip response. “You’re beautiful and you could go to any club or bar in the metro area and never have to pay for a drink. You wouldn’t lack for dance partners. And you wouldn’t have to go home alone unless you chose to. As a lifelong resident of the Twin Cities I’m guessing you’ve got tons of friends. You’re honestly telling me that you aren’t out and about at least some of the time taking advantage of being hot, sexy and single?”

“Will it put me in a different light if I admit if I’m not working or taking care of my mom I don’t know what to do with myself?”

My eyes narrowed. “Taking care of your mom?”

“She was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was in college. Thankfully she had good health insurance and we were able to get her into Mayo. She went through two rounds of chemo, so my sister, Lindsey, and I moved back in with her. I deferred a semester of school, and Lindsey and I took turns taking her to appointments, because it’s a bit of a drive to Rochester.”

“That explains your ‘sort of a nurse’ response,” I murmured.

“After the cancer went into remission, I refocused on school. Then I graduated and focused on my job. Pretty boring, huh?”

I snagged her restless hand. “Pretty fucking amazing, actually, that you’d put your life in a holding pattern to be there for your mom.”

“She’d do it for me. And I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on school anyway, since I was so worried I’d lose her.”

“Doesn’t make it—or you—any less amazing, Lucy Q.” I kissed the back of her hand. “I want to take you out and do every fun thing you’ve ever wanted to experience but couldn’t because you were singularly focused on doing things for other people.” I rubbed my lips across her knuckles and watched the pulse in her throat quicken.