The Best Man's Baby(24)

“You know if you don’t forgive me for that we’re never going to be able to move forward.” Claire couldn’t deny the genuine sorrow in his voice, but it was guilt that he was feeling. “Besides, didn’t you just agree like five seconds ago we weren’t going to argue?”

He had a point. “I thought I told you I was too tired to go out tonight.”

“Yeah, so I brought dinner to you.”

Claire felt her pulse skip. “What do you mean?”

“Food just arrived. That was the delivery guy.”

He reached out and pulled her by the hand and led her down the stairs. She fought the urge to pull back, and refused to acknowledge the heat wave his strong, warm flesh sent through her body. Jake had the hands of a man who worked with them every day, and yet she knew just how soft and gentle they could be on her skin.

He picked up a bunch of bags on the ground in the foyer. “You said you liked Greek food, right?”

“Yes.” He had obviously made himself right at home, she noticed, as she walked into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the counter, the paper crinkling loudly as he pulled out Styrofoam and aluminum takeout containers. He spread everything out on the granite countertop, filling it with an extraordinary amount of food for just two people.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I got some of everything,” he said, flipping off the lids. The aroma of lemon and chicken filled the kitchen.

“Looks like a lot of everything,” she said, warming a little as it occurred to her he had done all of this for her, knowing she’d been too tired to go out.

He took down plates from her cabinets. “I’ve got chicken souvlaki, roast lemon potatoes, tzatziki, Greek salad, spanakopita, and moussaka.”

“That’s a crazy amount of food.” Her mouth was already watering.

“Oh, and I hope you like baklava for dessert,” he said, ignoring her statement and flipping open the lid of the pastry box.

As if on cue, her traitorous stomach growled. She placed her hands over it, hoping he wouldn’t hear. But Jake looked over, grinning at first, and then his expression changed as he looked down where her hands were. Claire felt her heart hammering as he turned fully to her, his eyes darkened, and an expression she’d never seen before changed his features. They both stood still, and for a second everything froze.

Claire heard the ticking of the antique French clock on the wall and nothing else.

She couldn’t look away from Jake. The hard lines that usually seemed so invincible and hard softened. His blue eyes glistened.

“Claire,” he said, his voice gruff.

She shook her head, probably more for herself than for him. She took a step away from him, until she bumped into the wall. She needed distance from the contact he was offering, from the emotion in his eyes. From him. Where was her backbone? All he had to do was come in here, order takeout, and then look at her with those eyes and she was done?

…

Jake was trying to decipher the wildly changing expressions storming across Claire’s eyes. One minute ago he thought they were sharing a genuine moment. He felt connected to her, he saw the walls coming down, and then suddenly they were back up.

“I’ve said it before, I’m sorry—”

She shook her head, her silky hair swaying gently against her shoulders, and he had to ball his hands into fists to resist the urge to pull her into his arms.

“I don’t want your apology. It’s not necessary.”

“What is it going to take to get you to trust me? No matter what, whether you like me or not, we’re in this together.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment as her eyes glanced over him, and he wondered what she was thinking, which was what he usually wondered since it seemed he was incapable of reading her thoughts correctly. “You gave me a bunch of weak excuses as to why you couldn’t marry me, but I’ve got a bunch of reasons why you should.”

“We’re not entertaining that topic anymore.”

“We are or no food,” he said, lying through his teeth. He could safely bet Claire was too well-mannered to snatch the dinner and start eating.

She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms in a huff, a huff he found inexplicably endearing. “I’m listening,” she said, giving the food a sidelong glance. He stifled a grin.

“We’ve known each other forever, we both live in the same town—”

Claire clasped her hands together with that smarty-pants smile again. “Oh perfect! What a wonderful story we’ll be able to tell our child one day. ‘Hey, Bobby—’”

“We are not naming our child Bobby.”

“Hey, Billy or Betty—”