“No point. Just an observation.” He holds his hands up in surrender, and his eyes crinkle from the smile on his face. “It’s kinda cute is all.”
“Cute?” I frown, ignoring the pull I feel for him in my lower half. “I’m not cute.”
“I never said you were cute. I said your ass-swinging was cute.” He gives me a wicked grin.
My face goes beet red. Embarrassed, I start walking again, ignoring his soft laughter behind me.
By the time I’ve reached his car, I’m feeling out of sorts. Vulnerable, edgy…
Horny.
Totally not how I expected to be feeling this morning. Jordan just seems able to throw me off kilter at any given notice. I’ve never known anyone like him.
And today, things between us have shifted. I’m not really sure where to, or what’s going on, but something is definitely different between us.
We get in the car at the same time. I buckle up as Jordan turns the ignition. The engine is rumbling, ready to go, but we don’t move.
I look across at him.
His head is tilted my way, his deep eyes staring at me, and he’s wearing an expression I can’t decipher.
“What?” I ask, feeling self-conscious. I push my short strands behind my ear, feeling myself heating under his stare.
He shakes his head, blinking himself free. “Nothing. I’m just really digging this assertive side of you.” A smile. Then he looks behind him and sets the car in reverse.
I’m left reeling.
Jordan digs me.
He digs me.
And just like that, the cold block of ice I carry around in my chest melts.
***
Jordan does most of the talking on the drive to Farmington. I think he’s doing it to keep my mind busy, and off what I’m going to Farmington for.
I was good until we got about ten minutes away from Farmington. I broke out in a cold sweat, and when we crossed the city limits a few minutes back, my heart went into overdrive. I’m pretty sure a panic attack is on the horizon.
It takes me a moment to realize the car has stopped.
“Are we here?” My eyes are wide and alert like a rabbit.
“A block away. I thought you might want a moment to yourself before we go to her house.”
“It might not be her.”
I look at him. I know there’s an edge of desperation in my eyes and voice.
“It might not be,” he says slowly. “But if it is?”
I shrug, forcing a casualness I don’t feel. “Then I’ve found my mother.”
We both stare ahead, sitting in silence.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
Jordan turns the engine on and pulls back out onto the street. A few minutes later he pulls up front a red brick house.
I turn to him. “Will you come with me?”
He smiles. “Already was.”
Taking a deep breath, I slip my sunglass on and climb out the car.
I hesitate at the top of the walk. Jordan takes my hand and tugs me forward.
Reaching the door, Jordan doesn’t let go of my hand as he leans across me and presses the bell. The scent of his aftershave momentarily soothes me.
“What do I say?” I whisper.
“Just ask if Anna Monroe lives here, and we’ll go from there.”
Meeting his eyes, I nod.
Then I hear footsteps in the hall. A figure approaches the door. My body freezes. Jordan gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“You’re okay. I’m here,” he whispers softly.
The door opens, revealing a Chinese lady.
Nope. Not her.
Is it strange that I feel relief at this thought?
There’s definitely not a trace of Chinese in my pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes. Unless she’s not Anna Monroe.
I just need her to confirm this, and then I’m out of here.
“Can I help you?” she asks, eyes moving between Jordan and me.
“I was, um—” I clear my throat. “I, um…” Why can’t I get my voice to work?
“Does Anna Monroe live here?” Jordan’s voice come from beside me.
She blinks from me to Jordan. “Yes,” she answers slowly.
“Would it be possible to speak with her?”
“And you are…?”
“Sorry. My name is Jordan, and this is Mia.”
She shifts on the spot, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m Anna Monroe.”
I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, and then I’m out of there. Turning, and pulling my hand free from Jordan’s, I run down that path away from them both.
I know it’s wrong for me to abandon Jordan, but I can’t stop my legs from moving.
My heart is pounding. Blood is roaring in my ears. And all I want to do is eat.
And throw up.
I really need to throw up.
Climbing back into the safety of Jordan’s Mustang, I yank my sunglasses off, and sit on my hands, trying to steady my heart and calm the war raging on inside me.