She laughed. She couldn’t help it. All she could think about was Bobby . . . inside her . . . breathing hard . . . pounding into her. The thought shot a jolt of desire up her vagina to her core. Damn, it felt good. “You can come over and have dinner,” she said, “but that’s all.” She reached in her purse, but he said, “I’ve got this.”
Actually, she’d been about to pull out her phone, intending to text Bobby to tell him she was busy. But then she recalled the last time she’d texted. She’d been a little pissed ’cause he’d been late then, too. It had made her climb the walls, like an addict needing a fix. He’d done it on purpose, she was sure. Later, he’d told her that something had come up and reminded her not to text him. She’d accused him of having a secret wife or something. A big hardy har har that had her chuckling but made him go coldly silent. For a moment she’d worried that truly was his secret, but he’d responded with a warning he’d given her once before: “I’ll text. You respond.”
Caveman stuff. Nothing she could normally stand.
“Why?” she muttered to herself. Why do you put up with this shit?
“We’re good,” Jarrett told the bartender as he threw some bills down on the counter. The bartender thanked him for the tip, then Jarrett put his hand at her elbow and steered her toward the door.
“This isn’t going to work,” she told him as they walked up the street. A blast of surprisingly cold wind, more suitable for December than October, hit them, and Trini huddled close to Jarrett to keep warm. He put his arm around her until she was snuggled against his chest.
“Don’t be such a pessimist.”
“It didn’t work before; it’s not going to now.”
“All I’m trying to do is get a free meal.”
“Bullshit. And I’m not going to sleep with you.”
“What did you make for dinner?”
They were at the steps to her apartment and she stumbled on the first one. Jarrett caught her arm and she pulled it away, smiling at him from several steps up. “It’s vegan. You’ll love it.”
“Blech.”
“I lead a healthy lifestyle. I really do. I wouldn’t drink, but I can’t help it. My man drives me to it.”
That caught him up. “Your man?”
“My man,” she repeated with a nod.
They entered her apartment and she flipped on the lights. She saw the two plates set at the table and a wave of misery welled up from her gut. Oh Bobby. And then there was anger. Fury. Maybe she would sleep with Jarrett.
“Is this the guy Andi told me about?” Jarrett asked. He perched on the wooden arm of her couch as Trini put the enchiladas onto plates and zapped the first one in the microwave.
“Yep.”
“So, he drives you to drink. That’s why you’re not with him tonight?”
“Right again.”
“Is it wrong of me to hope it doesn’t work out?”
She wagged her finger at him. Another mojito or two and she wouldn’t care so much, but she did care. Why? God knew.
“Here.” She pulled out the heated plate and slid it across the black granite counter that showed every freaking mark. She grabbed up a fork, a knife, and a napkin, and Jarrett seated himself at the kitchen bar.
“This is good,” he said after a moment, a touch of surprise in his voice.
“I know. I have skills now.” Jarrett smiled at her in that way that used to melt her heart. “Don’t say it,” she said.
“What? I’m just eating.”
“You were going to tell me how wonderful I am. I saw it on your face.”
“You’re an egotist.”
“Uh-uh. I just know you.” She’d heated up a second plate and the microwave dinged, but she didn’t jump to answer the call.
“Your food’s ready,” Jarrett observed, pointing his fork at the microwave.
“I’m going to be honest with you, Jarrett. I was stood up tonight and I’m pissed. So that’s why we’re here, because I feel low and you’re making me feel better. But you have to leave after you finish eating, and then I’m probably going straight to bed . . . alone.”
He bent his head to his meal and didn’t say anything until he was finished. Trini had lost her appetite completely. She just felt sad.
Jarrett had taken off his coat and put it on the back of one of her kitchen barstools, but now he swept it up and put it on. “Thank you,” he said seriously.
“You’re welcome.”
“If I came by again, would you see me, just as a friend?”
“I don’t think it works that way for us, but yes. I’ll give it a try.”
She walked him to the door and he hesitated, his hand on the knob. “I just miss hanging out with you,” he said.
Music to her ears . . . someone who actually liked her. But it wasn’t enough. Not the way she was feeling.
He stepped onto the landing outside her door. “Good night,” she told him.
“A kiss good-bye,” he said.
“No.” She half laughed. “Just go!”
He reluctantly moved to the stairs. “I’ll be back.”
She shook her head and closed the door. She returned to the microwave, wondering if she should try heating her enchiladas again, but she still didn’t have an appetite. God, Bobby. What you’ve done to me!