Read with BonusRead with Bonus

6

Jumaine flashed a smile. "That, too. But yeah, he's Italian. Very few people call him Rocello, though."

It felt surreal to see such a massive, imposing figure lying on the couch. The living room already seemed cramped with the four of us in there, leaving me without a place to sit. I could hear Piper bustling in the kitchen, tidying up, and though I knew I should join her, I hesitated to leave Jumaine. There was something oddly intimate about talking quietly with him while his friends rested.

Yet, fatigue weighed on me—not physical exhaustion, but an emotional weariness. In my line of work, I was no stranger to bar fights, but last night's had been particularly intense. Coupled with today's injuries, it had taken its toll.

Jumaine must have noticed my tired expression or my glances at the lack of seating. "Want to sit?" He started to rise from his armchair.

"No." I gently placed my hand on his uninjured arm, halting him. "You're the one who's injured. You stay there." A thought occurred to me. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"You and your friend have already done enough," he replied, shaking his head. "Just sit here with me." He patted the arm of the chair and shifted over, though there wasn't much space.

I hesitated briefly before perching on the arm of the chair, angling my knees inward to avoid invading his space. Unfortunately, the arm was narrow, and I began to slide toward his lap. Jumaine swiftly wrapped his arm around my waist, steadying me, but I still felt precarious. "Zoey really needs some new furniture."

"Zoey?"

"Our friend who owns this house. She's a touring singer, so Piper and I offered to stay the night, water the plants, that sort of thing."

Jumaine grinned. "I bet watering plants seems like a breeze after dealing with the three of us." He glanced around the room with a raised eyebrow. "So your friend is a singer? Didn't realize ninety-year-olds went on tour."

I chuckled softly. "She inherited this place from a ninety-year-old."

"That explains it," Jumaine replied with a smirk.

I shifted, trying to keep my balance. Jumaine’s hand was still around my waist, all steady and warm. Like a seatbelt. Only a sexy seatbelt.

Piper appeared in the doorway. When she saw how Jumaine had his arm around me, she hesitated. Then, without comment, she checked the dressing on Rock’s neck, checked his pulse, and went out.

“She’s good,” Jumaine said.

“She really is.” I felt a little tongue-tied, but there was something about Jumaine’s calm presence that made me feel comfortable. He’d always seemed like the most approachable of the three. Rock was so big and sometimes a bit grumpy. Slade could be charming and funny one moment and then do something completely wild the next. But Jumaine was always polite and steady. “I’m glad Rock’s going to be okay. I never got a chance to thank him for taking care of those two guys last night. He told you about that, right?”

“Yes. He’d hate to see you get hurt. We all would.”

“Next time you’re in the bar, you all get a round of drinks on me.”

“I’d say that you and your friend made up for it tonight by helping us out.”

I tilted my head at him. “You’d really turn down free drinks?”

He grinned. “Probably not. Especially not ones delivered by you.” His gaze flashed briefly to my lips, and for the first time, I wished I was wearing something nicer than jeans shorts and a halter top. It was strange because at the bar, I deliberately dressed down to discourage men from hitting on me—which was pretty much an exercise in futility given all the alcohol served. But now I resisted the urge to take my hair out of the messy bun.

Oh, what the hell. I reached up, pulling a long pin out of my hair and letting it cascade down my shoulders. Unfortunately, when I had my arms up, I lost my balance and slid down onto his lap. My hands flew out, trying to catch myself, and my palm landed on the warm bulge in his pants. It twitched and grew harder.

I snatched my hand away as if it burned. “I’m sorry,” I gasped. I tried to hop up, but Jumaine had his hands on my hips.

“You’re fine.”

What did that mean? That I hadn’t hurt him? That he liked me being on his lap? It felt weird being so close to him with his friends in the room and Piper out in the kitchen. It was like we were alone together—and also like we had several unknowing chaperones.

Our gazes locked in the silence, his lips parted. I could tell he was trying to phrase his next sentence.

Suddenly, I didn't want him to say anything. His lips were captivating, full and rosy above his neatly trimmed beard. I had an irrational urge to run my fingers along them. His piercing blue eyes darted between mine and my mouth. I could feel his strong thighs beneath me and his firm grip on my hips. Everything else faded into the background; it felt like only he and I existed in that moment.

He gazed at me intensely, as if weighing a decision. Then, his head dipped down. I nervously bit my lip as he drew nearer, all coherent thoughts fleeing my mind. Closer and closer he came—until, at the last instant, he changed course, lightly kissing my forehead.

"Thank you for your help tonight," he murmured huskily.

I nodded, my eyes dropping. My mind kicked back into gear, and a flurry of thoughts flooded in.

Foremost among them was a sense of disappointment.

Previous Chapter
Next Chapter