Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)(66)

all my needs. It’s pa-nini, pa-nini.
“Oh hell’s bells,” I said, bursting with laughter. “Please tell me you’re kidding.” I could hardly control my laugh, and I bent forward, holding on to the dash. Jericho kept singing and really belted out the last two words. “Stop it! You’re making my stomach hurt,” I begged, clutching my belly and leaning back in my seat. Once he quieted, I wiped the tears from the corner of my eyes and he patted my leg.
“It’s good to hear you laugh,” he said in a low voice, as if talking to himself.
When I stole a glance, he didn’t look away. Jericho’s eyes were luminous, even in the dark cab of the pickup truck. I wondered if we were going to a concert. He didn’t have on his usual charcoal liner below his eyes, so I didn’t think so.
“We’re here,” he said. The brakes squealed to a stop and I leaned forward.
A nostalgic smile touched my lips as he got out of the truck and slammed the door. Jericho had brought me to a donut shop. When my door opened, he offered me his hand.
“Come on, Isabelle. My treat.”
I stumbled in my heels as we headed inside.
The store was pristine, and the first thing that caught my eye was the display counter. I threw myself against it and drooled over all the delicious varieties to choose from—so many pretty colors!
“I’d like the one with the chocolate glaze. Jericho, do you want to get something else to split between us?”
“Hell no,” he said, leaning on the counter. “I want a dozen of those chocolate ones and another dozen assorted.”
My back straightened like an arrow. “You didn’t just order all that.”
“I did.”
“You can’t.”
“I can.”
“It’s too much!”
“Someday I’ll buy you something expensive. Maybe it’ll sparkle and look real good on your finger. But right now, I’m buying you a box of donuts just the way you like them. Two cups of cocoa,” he told the guy.
I didn’t hear anything he said after the part about the ring. All I felt was a migration of little butterflies flitting in my stomach and tickling my nerves.
“Grab a seat, baby. I’ll bring them to you.”
I cupped my elbows and walked around him, scoping out the tables and trying to temper the blush that warmed my skin. Each time I felt the heat on my cheeks, it roused a peculiar smile on his face. A smile I’d never seen on him that gave me tingles—the good kind.
The rectangular tables were made of polished wood, and I chose a booth with yellow vinyl seats by the window.
When he appeared with two boxes, I laughed quietly. “I can’t believe we’re eating donuts at night. I haven’t done this in a million years.”
He slid the boxes onto the table and handed me my drink. I took a sip from the steaming cup and watched him flip open the first box, spinning it around to face me.
“Scoot over,” he said. “All the way.”
I slid against the window, and Jericho sat beside me with the other box in front of him.
He eyed the selection in his box. “I haven’t had a donut since I was with you.”
“Are you kidding?”
He picked at a candy-coated one and licked his thumb. “It just brought back too many memories. Plus, midnight donut runs were a me and you thing.”
Good memories, I thought wistfully.
Jericho reached over and removed the lid from my drink. “Dunk away.”
He remembered. I broke off a piece of the chocolate-glazed donut and dipped it in my cocoa. “Did you just come from a show?”
“Nope,” he said with a mouthful.
“Why the outfit?”
“We’re going to one,” he mumbled. I almost didn’t understand him because he’d shoved an entire jelly donut into his mouth. The jelly dripped down his chin, and he tried to lick it up with his tongue but couldn’t reach it. I really needed to stop staring.
“Maybe you shouldn’t eat all these. You might pass out on the stage in a sugar-induced coma.”
“They’re not all for me.” He lifted his right arm and waved at three guys who had just walked in. “I want you to meet some people, Isabelle. You’ve already met my family, but this is my second family—my band.”
Jericho stood up and greeted his friends, clasping hands and bumping shoulders.
“Isabelle, this is my drummer, Joker. Once he opens his mouth and puts his foot in it, you’ll know why.”
Joker had a sweet face and a slight overbite. He reminded me a little of a young Robert Plant. He scooted in front of me while Jericho patted the shoulder of a man wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses. His inky hair was spiked, and he had three lip rings. You couldn’t tell how old a Shifter was in years by their looks, but he seemed young—like one of those guys who was trying to be cool but wasn’t quite there yet.