Lead (Stage Dive, #3)(70)
“Will do.”
His smile was one of great warmth. “Look out for him.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“I’ll tell the others to catch up with you later. ’Night.”
I got the distinct impression Jimmy and I were being left alone for reasons leading toward the romantic, by the youngest of the Ferris clan at least. His friends and family had perhaps gotten ideas about us. Oh well. The Stage Dive crew could think what they liked of the current status of Jimmy’s and my overly complicated relationship. It was beyond my control.
On the other side of the room, Jimmy leaned against the wall, watching me through hooded eyes. “How’d Dean take you running out on him?”
“I don’t know, probably not well.” To be honest, I’d given it no thought, but the odds were, Dean and I were done. I lay back against Jimmy’s bed, my foot propped on pillows. “Your bed’s more comfortable than mine.”
“Is it?”
“I’m just going to snooze here for a while.” Wounded people were allowed to push their luck. Everyone knew that. “Wake me when the boot arrives, slave.”
He said nothing, just watched as I made myself at home on his bed.
“This mattress is bigger than some small European countries.” I dragged my coat out from underneath me. A delicate procedure that involved much wiggling. My shirt rode up and I tugged it back down over my belly. “Say something, you’re making me feel awkward.”
“Why would you feel awkward, Lena? Just because you’re rolling around on my bed.”
“You could sit back down again and talk to me.” I patted the mattress beside me in a friendly, inviting manner.
“We’ve talked enough for one night.”
But he did flick off the light, leaving the glow of the bedside lamp on its lonesome. Then he walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down. He shucked off his shoes and, good god help me, lay down upon his back. Hands folded over his flat stomach he stared at the ceiling, giving it his usual frown of discontent.
Jimmy was on the bed with me.
I swear to you, my loins actually quivered.
This was better than my birthday and Christmas rolled into one, aching ankle or no. The most beautiful man I’d ever met lying close enough to almost touch. He was outright gorgeous. Ridiculously so. His face in profile, the curves of his lips and the perfect line of his nose. I didn’t have words to describe him. I didn’t have anything. My heart beat double time but I could ignore it.
“Are you okay?” I asked, voice little more than a whisper.
“Better than you.”
He’d said he’d talked enough. So, in my infinite wisdom, I actually let it go for once.
“You really do need mirrors on your ceiling,” I said.
He cut his eyes to the side and gave me an impatient look. “Where the f*ck do you come up with these ideas?”
I laughed.
“Enough.” He reached out, switching off the bedside lamp. “Close your eyes and go to sleep. This day has been too damn long.”
“What about the boot?”
“I’ll get up when the boot comes.”
“All right.”
We didn’t talk for a while. Then, out of nowhere, came a mumbled, “Thanks for coming home.”
I searched for his free hand, grabbing hold once I found it. His fingers wrapped tight around mine I smiled in the darkness. “Any time.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Oh my god, this soufflé is amazing. It’s like heaven in my mouth. Heaven, Jimmy, do you hear me?” I licked the last of the chocolate off my spoon then tried to find more. Stupid spoon for being empty. Better double-check just in case.
“I hear you.” His gaze followed my tongue up the length of the spoon and he swallowed hard.
Huh.
The rock star in question sat across the table from me, his own breakfast long since eaten. He’d probably been up at the crack of dawn being all fit and energetic. In the basement gym, since paparazzi were lurking around outside given his mom’s interview hitting the airwaves last night. A couple of security guys were out there, keeping an eye on things. So definitely no jogging for various reasons, but on account of my busted ankle I got to lie in bed anyways.
My own lesser bed sadly.
Once the boot had arrived the night before, he’d kicked me out of his room. Well, he’d helped me hobble into mine. At any rate, the end result was the same, I slept alone.
By the time I texted him to come help me down the stairs, he’d already showered and dressed in jeans and a plain black T-shirt. And now I tasted the abundant leftovers from his grand dinner party the night before. Screw cereal for breakfast, dessert was definitely the go-to. We’d be dining on leftovers for days, homemade pasta with wild mushrooms and pancetta, some exotic fish dish, and the best damn chocolate soufflé with berry coulis I’d tasted in my entire life.
Best. Breakfast. Ever.
“I want to have this soufflé’s babies.”
“Great,” he said, watching me devour the innocent dessert with much zeal. The look on his face concerned me in so much as I couldn’t read it. His eyes were guarded but there was something else there too, something more. An intensity I wasn’t certain I could match at this hour of the morning.