try peeking, but I am afraid he’ll catch me checking him out, or worse, let go of my hand.
“Hey, are you making fun of me?” I pout my lips. I can flirt too, maybe not as well.
“Absolutely.” I blush again; I can’t help it. My body reacts to every word he says.
While still holding hands, we stop in front of the gift table, and I reluctantly let go of his hand. I bend down, then lift up the table skirt to reveal hidden boxes.
“You seem to like this table. Are you planning on guarding or stealing?” he teases.
“No!” I place my hand on my chest, acting shocked at his comment.
“I plan on making you take care of the table centerpieces. They were handmade by Jenny and me, which means they are priceless. I think you’ve used the excuse, I had a call to make, too much tonight, cowboy.”
His eyebrows raise, “Cowboy, huh? That’s a first. No way do I look anything like a cowboy.”
If he only knew. Sure, he doesn’t have the boots or hat, but he definitely reminds me of a cowboy. Handsome, muscular, confident, sexy, and trouble. All cowboys are trouble.
“It’s just a nickname for trouble, and you, Mr. Madsyn, are a shit load of trouble.” He looks shocked at my words.
“Wow, Ms. Skye. Has a swear word ever graced your lips before, and how do you know I’m trouble if you just met me?” he asks innocently.
“Oh, I may not be an experienced girl, but I know about your type. I see it in the way you talk and move around this room. Women can’t take their eyes off you…all ages, I might add.”
I nod towards my elderly Aunt Rosie sitting at the table to our far right, staring wide-eyed at Mr. Madsyn. Jase puts his head down in defeat. I whisper, “See. Trouble.”
“You know I could say the same about you too,” he says seriously.
“Me? No! I’m a first grade teacher and have never even gotten a parking ticket! I may be boring, but I’m not trouble.”
“Believe me, you will bring me some sort of trouble,” he says, in a cocky way.
I sigh heavily, ignoring his comment. I have no idea what he meant, and I don’t have the guts to question him.
Jase shrugs his shoulders and returns to helping me remove the centerpieces and place them in the storage boxes. When we finish, Jenny and Max start moving for the door and thanking their guests. The room radiates with excitement, guests shouting and applauding.
All of a sudden, I panic, because my sister’s leaving and now I’m with Jase, alone. I never imagined spending most of my time at the reception with him, but it looks like he doesn’t have any plans to leave yet.
Jase bends down and picks up the last filled box. His muscular arms strain, accentuating the veins in his arms, the definition of his forearms, along with exposing a hint of a tribal tattoo.
All these years I’ve spent with Luke, and I never really noticed other men. Not like the way I’m noticing Jase tonight.
Thinking of something quick to distract me from wondering more about the man behind the tattoo, I say, “Oh, no, I didn’t get to say goodbye.” I lie. I could care less. I’m taking them to the airport tomorrow.
Jase turns towards the couple and then back to me. “I’m sure they aren’t even concerned about us. I think they have other things on their minds,” his tone is mischievous.
There has to be a way to stop staring at him, but I can’t help myself. Each second that passes, I can feel my heart rate pick up, my face flame, and feel my pulse in my ears. Am I having a panic attack? Good Lord, I hope I’m not going to faint. Why does he affect me this way?
“Where are you staying after the party is over?” he asks.
Oh, Lord, please don’t ask me to stay with you. I’m not prepared.
“Well, I think the party is over, isn’t it?” I say, hoping to end this night.
Jase surveys the room. Music and laughter still fill the room. “Nope, I don’t think the party is anywhere near over.”
I concede, “I’m staying at the guest house