“He won’t commit afterward,” Jessie Kay said. “You told me so yourself.”

“I know that,” she said with a sigh.

“But you’re going to sleep with him anyway, aren’t you?” Jessie Kay leaned back and crossed her arms. “Even though you’ve denied every other guy you’ve ever dated.”

“I haven’t denied every one.”

“Your short-lived romance with Conner doesn’t count.”

Conner, the boy who used to live next door. He’d moved away for college, met the love of his life and had never come home. “Why doesn’t it count?”

“He only ever lasted a minute. Two, tops. And yes, I heard you guys. Well, I heard him. You were as quiet as a mouse.” Her head tilted to the side. “I wonder if Jase will be able to make you scream.”

A white-hot burn in her cheeks. She already knew the answer to that.

Conner had been kind and sweet, but Brook Lynn had never reacted to him the way she’d reacted to Jase. All in, nothing held back. Attuned to his every nuance.

“I want Jase no matter what,” she said, realizing it was true. Even if he ended things after one night. With him, she would take what she could get. “Are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad at me.”

Jessie Kay leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “If I was mad, my nails would be scratching out your eyes. You know this. Besides, I guess a part of me saw this coming. The way you talk about him. The way he looks at you. The things he does for you. But for once in my life I have to be a voice of reason. I don’t think this is a good idea, Brook Lynn. He’s going to hurt you, and then I’ll have to kill him dead.”

Maybe he’d hurt her. Probably.

Okay, definitely for sure—there was a chance. She couldn’t bring herself to commit to the idea that she’d fail to win him. “I’ve been saying the same thing to you for years, and it’s never stopped you.”

Jessie Kay arched a brow at her. “Look at you. Doing the whole role-reversal thing. It—and you—suck seriously hairy balls right now, but okay. If you want him, he’s yours. I just hope you don’t end up regretting it.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE NEXT MORNING, Brook Lynn called and canceled her date with Brad—the one she still hadn’t put in the books. He was hurt, and she hated herself. He asked what happened, what changed her mind, and she had to go with the truth and admit she had feelings for another man. She then texted Jase to tell him she had errands and would be running late. His response came seconds later.

Feel free 2 take the entire day off.

Those freeze-out walls really needed work, didn’t they?

Her response: Nah. My errands R 4 YOU, bossman.

A minute passed, then another.

What kind of errands?

Grinning, she stuffed her phone into her pocket. He’d find out when she was good and ready and not a moment before. Until then, he could stew.

Excited, nervous, she left the serenity of redbuds and strawberry vines behind to drive into the city, where she bought a fancy frame and a bundle of heavy paper, as well as time on a computer. As she typed, she constantly glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one was reading what was on the screen.

When she finished her project, she had it printed on the paper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment—and they stayed hot the entire drive to Jase’s house.

Didn’t help that he was on the front porch when she arrived, shirtless and sweaty. The moisture in her mouth dried.

What if he viewed her gift as an attempt at manipulation rather than a way to ease his fears? What if he was right?

Just need a chance with him. This was the only way.

As she traversed the porch steps, he crossed his arms over his muscle-ripped chest. With the farmhouse behind him, framing him, she felt as if she’d just been transported into the pages of a Hunks of Small Town, USA calendar. A place she wanted to live forever.

“You mentioned errands for me,” he said, and she would have sworn she heard excitement underneath his irritation. “You finally get me those ex-large condoms?”

“Nope.” Don’t grin. “First, it’s time for today’s affirmation. You ready? Here goes. I need not suffer in silence while I possess the ability to moan, whimper and complain.”

He went still, not seeming to breathe. “Are you suffering?”

“In a way.” She closed the distance and held out the plaque she’d made. “Here. This is for you.”

He backed away from her, saying, “If this is a resignation letter...”

After all the times he’d fired her, he would complain if she quit? “Do us both a favor and read it.”

He took the thing reluctantly and looked it over, his frown vanishing. His eyes flipped up to her, flames sparking to life deep, deep inside their emerald depths. She shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“Well?” she asked and gulped.

“‘I, Brook Lynn Dillon,’” he read, the tenor of his voice husky and rough, “‘hereby promise Jase I’m Not Sure What His Middle Name Is Hollister one night. Only one. Afterward there will be no tears, no clinging and no romantic gestures of any kind. I will be an employee of Hollister Slave Trade, nothing more.’”

“I even signed it,” she said—with what had felt like blood.

“I see that,” he replied.

When he said nothing more, she once again shifted uncomfortably. “Well?”