It was so hard to piss off Jacob and she got irritated at the drop of a hat.
Which meant, if Jacob was mad and snotty, she’d stepped over a line and the tough-girl shell wasn’t the answer. Unfortunately, reason and apologizing were the answer. She hated apologizing and, damn it, she hated being wrong enough to have to.
“I don’t have coffee or hot chocolate. Just tea.”
“I’ll survive. Here. Found a tow number.”
“Don’t call a tow truck. Let me look at it first.” When she turned to face Jacob, he was standing in the entry to her kitchen, frowning.
“It’s freezing out there.” He didn’t mention earlier, though God knew that was what this was about. Even pissed, he was worried about her.
For a second, just a sliver of a second, there was some stupid, girlie part of her that thought it was kind of sweet. Until she remembered how fast worrying could snowball to babying, controlling.
“I have a jacket. A hat. Gloves. All these magical things to keep me warm.”
“And just how many brain cells do you think you lost when you practically couldn’t breathe for a few minutes? Not sure I can trust your judgment.”
She gritted her teeth, did everything to keep the snap out of her tone. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, are you? You hadn’t mentioned that eight million times. Just shut up for a few minutes so I can call the tow.”
She grabbed the phone out of his hand as he held it to his ear. “Don’t be stubborn and stupid.”
He snorted. “You oughta talk.”
“I’m...” Oh, God, she hated this part. “Sorry. I’m sorry I was kind of an ass before. I just can’t stand being hovered over.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I was hovering?”
Okay, not really. Not suffocating, anyway. She’d been pretty bad off and he’d been worried. It was just, she couldn’t tell him why that scared her or put her back up. She couldn’t explain it was the thing she most feared.
Because she wouldn’t admit to anyone she feared anything. “I said I’m sorry. What more do you want?”
He rolled his eyes. “Not a damn thing, Leah. Just give me my phone.” He held out his hand and she stared at it.
They came to impasses like this from time to time. Both so certain they were right. Both irritated and defensive. She hated the way it tied her up in knots. She hated feeling guilty and stupid, but most of all she hated the thought of him being angry with her.
Which was so pathetic it was laughable.
“My family thinks you asked me out at New Year’s last year.” It was the only thing that would distract him no matter how much she dreaded discussing it, and it was better than arguing. “Besides that, I haven’t talked much about it. If Mom asks I say we went to a movie or dinner and I change the subject. It’s not like I’ve created some elaborate fantasy. You’re a prop. I don’t enjoy lying to them. It’s just necessary.”
He studied her with an unreadable expression. So rarely did he have a poker face, it made her nervous and uncomfortable. She went back to focusing on making the tea he probably wouldn’t drink. Then she remembered she still had his phone, and she stopped abruptly halfway between him and the stove.
“Why is it necessary to lie?”
The heart that wasn’t hers ached in a place that was. “I told you why. The whole thinking-I-need-a-man thing.”
“Okay, I get why that bugs you, but why lie to them about it? You’re not exactly the pretend-to-be-something-you’re-not type.”
Leah frowned. It was true, but this was different. So much more important. “They’re my family.”
“They should love you for who you are.”
“I owe them too much for that.” Disgusted with herself for saying it, she handed him his phone. “I’m going to go put my coat on, find a flashlight and take a look at your car. Might be able to jury-rig something.”
“Leah—”
She didn’t stick around to find out what he wanted to say. She’d revealed too much already.
* * *
“THERE. START IT.”
Jacob looked down at the engine Leah had been fooling around with. Between the streetlight and her flashlight, he could see well enough. Unfortunately, he knew jack about cars, so seeing it didn’t help the situation. “You really think you fixed it?”
“It’s below freezing. Start the damn car and we’ll find out.”
Since her teeth were chattering and he wasn’t exactly warm and cozy, either, he hurried to the driver’s side and turned the key in the ignition. When the engine started, he stared, a little dumbfounded and possibly a little emasculated. “You did it.”
Her mouth quirked into a grin. It was dark, but her face was illuminated by streetlights and headlights. He stood with his hand on the keys, wondering at how he’d let a girl fix his car.
“Aw, come on. Don’t be one of those guys.”
“One of what guys?”
“The guy who gets his panties in a twist because a woman knows more about cars than he does.”
“My panties aren’t in a twist,” Jacob grumbled. He wasn’t one of those guys. More power to her. Really. He’d work on that feeling, anyway.
Leah laughed. “Your car works. Go home, huh?”
Jacob scowled at her. She was all bundled up in her heavy jacket and bulky stocking cap, but she was smiling and even in the dim light he could see she wasn’t as gray and pale as she’d been.
“Your color’s back.” He didn’t realize it was a mistake until his fingertips grazed the skin of her cheek and something electric and upending met with the touch.
She didn’t back away, didn’t looked shocked or disgusted or angry or amused. For a second, just a nanosecond, it was almost as if she leaned into it.
That...couldn’t be. Jacob pulled his hand away, trying to make sense of it. That she might want him to touch her. That was crazy, though. They were friends, and she’d always gone out of her way to make sure he knew he was not her type.
“Good night, Jacob.” Quickly, she walked away. The weird moment was gone, but he couldn’t stop turning it over in his mind.
He watched her go, a big, shapeless figure in the frigid dark. She disappeared inside, her door closing with a distinct thud.
Leah. Wanting him to touch her. Liking him touching her.
You touched her cheek, you whack job.
Yes.
