“So why didn’t you?”
“Because I like having firm boundaries in place.”
I cross the room in three giant strides, stopping short just in front of him. “You need to set boundaries with me?”
He drops his gaze to the wooden floor. “I do.”
“Why?”
All I see is the top of his thick mop of onyx-black hair and his shoulders lifting and lowering on either side of it. After a while, he blows out a gust of air and lifts those wild green eyes up to me. “Because I don’t trust…”
My jaw tightens, expecting him to finish that statement with “you.”
“…myself.”
The hairs on my arms prickle. “You don’t trust yourself around me?”
“Correct,” he says, and I can’t help it—I smirk. Completely unintentionally. “Don’t get cocky.” He lifts a finger in warning. “I have a lot of shit going on in my life. I’m not… If we…” He exhales roughly, like he’s frustrated. Can’t tell if that frustration is aimed at me or at himself. “Even if I wanted to, I’m not available. Emotionally. For anything.”
I ignore how much that stings and focus on the tiny lifeline he’s offered. “But if you were avail?—?”
“Don’t. Please.” He cuts me off and moves to the window. But I’m not prepared to let this go. Not until I get a proper answer. I deserve that much, at least.
I walk over and stand beside him, our shoulders close but not touching, both of us staring at my SUV parked in the driveway. “Tell me,” I begin, my voice low. “Ifyou were available, is there a chance you’d be interested in me?”
Silence.
The sound of the old clock ticking fills the room.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. To?—
“Maybe.”
He says it so quietly I barely hear it, but when I turn to him, he’s staring at me with a tortured longing that confirms what he was only able to whisper.
I reach for him, my fingertips grazing over the soft skin of his jawline. His eyes flutter shut, and I take in his long, dark lashes, the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks up to the bridge of his nose, the plumpness of his lips.
I step in closer, my face hovering a few inches away from his, his warm breath hitting my throat, heating my chest, thickening my cock. I curl one hand around the back of his neck and lower my lips until they almost taste his?—
“Pieces. I threw up actual pieces of tuna as if my digestive tract hadn’t even—oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Jackson and I break apart from each other with such velocity he almost loses his balance and has to grab onto the curtain to save himself from toppling over.
I paw at my chest. “You didn’t. I was just showing Jackson my…”
“His car,” Jackson saves me, offering his way-too-smart-to-fall-for-this-bullshit grandfather a smile so forced even I can tell it’s fake.
“Oh, really?” Clancy wanders over to the window and glances at my SUV. “What about it, exactly?”
“Uh, well…” Jackson’s eyes dart about as he tries to come up with something. I’d have thrown in the towel by now. But not Jackson. He’s way too stubborn for that. “I read an article about how the type of car a guy drives directly relates to the size of his penis.”
A surprised cough cuts through the silence. The bigger surprise is that it comes from me, not Clancy.
Some of the sparkle returns to the old man’s eyes. “Tell me more about this theory. Sounds fascinating.”
“I don’t remember all the details,” Jackson goes on, not missing a beat. “But basically, a big-ass SUV like that means poor, ol’ Maverick hasn’t got a lot to work with in the downstairs department and is, sadly and oh so transparently, overcompensating.”
My jaw gapes, and I fix him with an angry stare over Clancy’s shoulder. He just shrugs and smirks, knowing I can’t do anything. I mean, I could very easily blow up his whole bullshit story. But I wouldn’t do that. Because if he’s committed to sticking to this stupid lie that all three of us know is a lie and doesn’t want to tell his grandfather about what we are actually on the cusp of doing, I’ll respect it.
