Jethro hesitated, frowning, considering my words. I didn’t like that he was mad, and even if he seemed perfectly calm, he was frowning. He rarely frowned, not with me. The pressure in my chest grew and I became aware that my grip was likely painful. I told myself to let him go, but I couldn’t. I held on tighter.
He seemed to sense my growing unease because he placed his hand over mine and pried it off his arm, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “I’ll come by this afternoon. We’ll discuss everything then. Okay?”
I nodded, pressing my lips together so I wouldn’t demand he stay and sort things out right this second, in the front yard of Hank’s cabin, with my sister, his brother, and my bodyguards as onlookers.
“Okay. Fine,” I finally managed to say.
His mouth hitched to the side as he studied me. “Do you want me to bring lunch?”
I nodded, distracted, but deciding I had faith in him. I had faith in us. We were solid, no matter what.
Then he said, “And you’ll bring the lust?”
My eyes cut to his and I saw the warm teasing there, the easy flirtation, the interest and adoration in his gaze.
“Okay. You bring lunch, I’ll bring lust, and we’ll both . . . eat.”
His eyebrows bounced at the suggestiveness in my tone, then he flashed me my favorite smile. Despite the way it made my knees weak, I lifted on my tiptoes and brushed a kiss to his lips. My anxiety melted away, leaving only trust in this remarkable man and excitement for our afternoon rendezvous.
I asked Dave to drive me to the set after spending the morning with Marta. I didn’t have any scenes to film, but the trailer would provide a (mostly) private space for Jethro and me to talk.
I also brought along my black silk bathrobe. I’d been placed in charge of the lust, and I took that charge seriously.
Dave waited dutifully outside the trailer; I’d given him strict instructions to allow no one but Jethro to enter. Meanwhile, I changed into my birthday suit plus the robe. While I was waiting, an idea came to me for the Smash-Girl movie, so I flipped open my spare laptop and set to work.
I lost track of time. When I finally glanced down at the computer’s clock, two hours had passed. I rubbed my eyes and stretched, glancing around the trailer, surprised to find Jethro sitting at the kitchen table. He was sipping on a drink through a straw, flipping through a notebook and scrolling through his phone.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hey, gorgeous.” He wrote down a few lines in the notebook, copying them from his phone, then flipped the book closed, and brought his eyes to mine. “All done?”
“For now. How long have you been sitting there?”
He checked his phone again. “About an hour and a half.”
“Jethro, you should have interrupted me.”
He shrugged. “You were working, and I had a nice view. A nice view always helps.”
I felt my mouth tug to the side. “Is that something your mother used to say?”
He nodded, his smile growing. “But I doubt she had this view in mind when she said it.” He indicated to me with a lift of his chin as he stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I brought lunch.”
I stood as well and lifted my palms away from body. “I brought lust.”
His eyes heated as they swept over me. “Yes, you did.”
We indulged for a moment in mutual ogling. He was wearing his ranger uniform, but his tool belt rested on the table next to his hat, and his shirt was unbuttoned, and his hair was in disarray. He was my strong, capable, sweet man and I wanted to be close to him. But before we ate lunch or succumbed to lust, we had a few things to discuss.
Thus, I blurted, “I’m so sorry.”
His eyes cut to mine. “Why are you sorry?” I didn’t miss the hint of amused exasperation in his tone.
“Because we agreed to one thing and I did the opposite. I behaved selfishly, not thinking about the consequences of my actions, and I’m sorry.”
Jethro shrugged, his eyes sliding over my shoulder to the swell of my breasts, saying distractedly, “Live and learn.”
I stared at him, stunned and irritated at his laissez-faire words. “Live and learn?”
He nodded, a smile threatening to break free. “That’s right. Now you know. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Live and learn.”
“I know what it means, Jethro,” I snapped, growing both more and less aggravated—which didn’t make any sense—by his teasing.
“Good. I guess we’re on the same page, then.” He continued to devour me with his gaze, touching me nowhere, like he was memorizing the sight of me.
“Really? Are we?”
“Yes.” He nodded once, slowly.