It’s a good thing, Jet,” she was obviously trying to talk me into trusting Eddie and not going into a ful -fledged freak out.
Too late, I was way passed freak out. I’d look back on my endless freak outs with happy nostalgia. Nope, I was in “Pissed Off Female with a Score to Settle” mode.
Except, of course, when it came to eating muffins in Eddie’s kitchen.
“Eddie explained it last night. I’m okay with it,” I told Indy.
I’d managed to get the muffin cup off and tore the bottom of the muffin free. I took a bite and Eddie’s hand came into my vision.
I looked up at him just as he cupped my jaw.
“Say good-bye,” Eddie ordered, his eyes warm.
My stomach clenched and I gulped down my bite.
“Is that Eddie?” Indy asked. “Tel him hel o.”
“Indy says hel o,” I said to Eddie.
Eddie’s head came down.
“Good-bye,” he muttered against my mouth.
I turned my head away to escape his mouth.
“Eddie says hel o too,” I told Indy, feeling like an idiot but keeping her on the line as if my life depended on it.
Eddie’s mouth detoured to my neck and tingles spread from my neck south.
Indy laughed.
“I heard what he said. I’l let you go. See you tonight.”
“No!” I said desperately, but she disconnected.
I took the phone away from my ear and flipped it shut.
One of Eddie’s arms wrapped around me and he pul ed me tight to him. I felt his tongue touch below my ear and the tingles intensified.
My phone rang again.
His head lifted and just before I could flip it open and embark on a very, very long conversation with whoever cal ed me, he pul ed it out of my hand, looked at it and then opened it with his thumb and put it at his ear.
“Yeah?” he said, then he waited. “She’s fine. Cal back later.” Then he flipped it shut without even saying good-bye.
I glared at him as he slid the phone on the counter.
“Who was that?” I asked and both his arms came around me.
“Al y, checkin’ in.”
“I would have liked to talk to her,” I said to him, my voice fil ed with attitude, an attitude I never knew I had before.
“I know, Chiquita, you’re so scared of me, you’d talk to Ted Bundy if you thought he’d keep you out of my bed.”
“That’s not true!” I lied.
It was s o true. Ted Bundy was gross but he’d be interesting to talk to and I was in a serious Eek Moment at the thought of being back in Eddie’s bed, especial y with Eddie in it.
“It’s true and it’s not gonna happen. I final y got almost an entire day where you don’t have to run around like a crazy woman, chargin’ through grocery stores or beggin’ bank tel ers to stay open for you. And you don’t have to work.
You’re mine al day and I have plans.”
Dear Lord.
Eddie had plans.
I felt my doo-da quiver.
“Eddie, I have to cal my Mom. Then I have to go get some flowers for your Mom. Then I have to make something, I don’t know, cookies or a pie, so we don’t go to Blanca’s empty-handed. My Mom would just die if we went to your Mom’s without some sort of baked good. Then I have to…”
He picked up my phone and handed it to me, then his arm went back around me.
“You have five minutes to cal your mother,” he said.
My mouth dropped open.
“Five minutes! What? Are you going to time me?”
“Yep,” he said.
Al right. So I’d programmed new friends in my phone and went ahead with this branding business without a fight.
There was only so much a girl could take.
Maybe there was something between Eddie and me and maybe I’d be stupid not to explore it. But I had bad guys to track down, first and foremost, my fucking father. I couldn’t spend the day in Eddie’s bed.
At least, that was what I was tel ing myself was my excuse. Not that I was scared shitless of being bad in bed and disappointing him. Or worse, being truly happy for the first time in my life and having it not last.
I pul ed out the glare again. It wasn’t working but I’d keep trying.
“You can’t make me go to bed with you.”
The dimple came out and one of his hands dipped down and went under my t-shirt, making a bee-line for my breast while he said, “Chiquita, I won’t have to make you.” He cupped my breast and my lips parted when his warm hand held its weight.
Damn.
Damn, damn, damn.
“I real y don’t like you,” I told him.
“Cal your Mom,” he said, his hand leaving my breast and trailing down my side to my back.
I cal ed Trixie and shoved the entire bottom of the muffin in my mouth. Eddie didn’t let me go but I heard him chuckle.
I continued with The Glare. It might not work but it made me feel better.
“Hel o?” Trixie answered.
“Trixie?” I said through a mouth of muffin.
“Jet? Is that you?”
I swal owed, painful y.
“Yeah, how’s everything?”
“Groovy tunes. Your Mom and I just got back from IHOP
and we’re thinking about hitting Target. You need anything?”
I tried to think of a list of things I needed. Not one thing came to mind.
“No,” I replied, dejected.