I nudged him with my shoulder. "Got something in there that'd cause embarrassment?"
His blue, blue eyes locked onto mine with such confidence, with such male heat that I became dizzy. "I've got nothing to hide. I'd let you take a peek in my drawers any time."
My brain failed to call up a clever retort.
His nearness reminded me how fantastic he smelled. And when he said, "Move that cute ass into the living room so we can talk," he reminded me of his mastery of the bossy compliment.
I settled at the card table where Calder and I were putting together the puzzle. Jensen perched on the edge of the recliner as if he had to be ready to spring into action at any time.
"So tell me, Lund . . . the camp. Go? Or no-go?"
"It's a go."
Then he went into such detail that my eyes started to glaze over.
But it sounded like a miracle. When I said as much, Jensen became flustered. "Everyone I needed to come through did. I got lucky with Astrid."
"Excuse me?"
He groaned. "Not like that. Astrid, an LCCO intern, will be the project manager. She pushed to be part of it and if not for her, I'd probably still be trying to fill out the mountains of paperwork."
Ridiculous to be jealous of Astrid, but I was. "Calder will be thrilled. And I'm relieved. So is my bank account. The other camp I found was three times as much money."
Jensen frowned at me. "You had so little faith in me, Coach?"
"I hadn't heard from you. School is over two weeks from today. I had to have a plan." I glanced down at the piles I'd sorted. We'd built the outer frame and I'd finished the Persian cat in the orange hat that looked like a dunce cap with tassels.
"What are you doing?"
"Playing the guitar," I mumbled, because it was pretty damn obvious what I was doing.
"You're extra punchy tonight." He popped to his feet and moved in behind me.
"Because it's late."
He said, "Mmm-hmm," and parked himself right beside me. "A cat puzzle, huh?"
"Not that I need to defend it, but this came from my folks' house. Martin gave it to me for my eighth birthday."
"How do you remember that?"
I tried a white piece but it didn't fit, so I set it in the discard pile. "My parents didn't make a huge deal about birthdays. I got one present from them and one from my brother. ‘Less is more' made the gift memorable, so I could probably tell you every present I received until I turned fourteen."
"Try this one there." He handed me a white-and-gray piece. "Are you raising Calder the same way?"
"Trying to. But he has an uncle who likes to buy him stuff, and he's an only grandchild. High-dollar toys aren't a possibility since I'm on a budget, so the one-gift thing works for now." I snapped the piece he'd handed me into place. "Did the Lund kids have a Ringling Brothers –type birthday party circus every year?"
"Nope. My mom kept birthdays low-key. It's a Swedish thing. My parents also limited the number of our classmates' parties we could go to."
I looked at him. "Because . . . ?"
"Our classmates and their parents assumed the rich kids would bring expensive presents. So we got invited to a lot of birthday parties. Mom and Dad had to draw the line somewhere."
"Setting limits for your kid isn't fun."
"Setting limits for anything isn't fun." Jensen's eyes met mine. Then his gaze roamed over my face.
"What? It's been five days and you're looking at me like you don't recognize me."
"I look at you, but I don't always see you, Rowan."
I found it hard to breathe.
"Hanging out together . . . You're just Coach Bossy Pants, a contrary redhead, a fierce mother to your son, a friend who makes me laugh, makes me think, makes me mad, bakes for me . . . and I forget you're a stunningly beautiful woman. Then I get this close to you and I'm reminded in vivid detail that you are mega-hot, with those fuck-me bedroom eyes and kiss-me-now lips. Christ, you smell like cookies and flowers and sex and I just want to devour you."
"Jensen."
"Devour you," he repeated as if I hadn't heard him the first time. He crouched down until we were eye to eye. "Ask me why I stayed away this week."
"Why did you stay away this week?"
"Because I'm a shitty friend."
"Why are you a shitty friend?"
"Because I don't want to be friends with you." He invaded my space until I felt his breath on my lips. "I want to devour you."