Jessi snorted. “I’m sure we hurt each other lots of times, but that break was him.”
“He’s wearing a suit tonight. They all are. So handsome I made them let me fuss over them extra long.” PJ’s grin was sort of infectious.
“I’m not sure I’ve had enough to drink yet for that. Mick in a suit is pretty impressive,” Jessi said quietly.
“That’s easily remedied. There’s a bar station right over there. It’s also next to the mini tacos. You should have some of those too. For strength.”
This PJ was all right. Jessi liked her pretty much immediately as they headed toward the bar.
Just a few feet away, a wall of incredible-smelling male stepped into her path and she bumped straight into him.
Careful hands took her upper arms to save her from falling. She took a deep breath and looked up into Mick’s face for the first time in far too long.
“Jess …” He smiled and she smiled, and the love she’d felt for Mick Roberts since they’d been fifteen tumbled through her heart, making her a little dizzy.
“I got the invitation. I figured it was a sign.”
His smile softened, went sideways. “You and your signs.” He hadn’t let go and she made no move, just content to take him in.
“Well. Here I am, looking at you. So I was right. You look very handsome.” He’d always had a filter on when he was in public. His eyes were hard, but it was a front. He’d been so pummeled emotionally over his life, his only real defense had been to keep people far enough away from his heart that they couldn’t hurt him.
But the real Mick, the one so very few people got to see, was the one he showed to her just then, and it brought a lump to the back of her throat. She shoved it away, choosing joy instead.
“I guess so. It could have been the invitation, though.”
That made her laugh. “I’m really glad to see you. I’ve missed you so much.” This time she’d say all the things she should have been plainer about before.
A rush of emotion played over his features right before he pulled her into a hug.
It had been so long since she’d felt like this. Totally happy. A sense of rightness of place and energy. He was the part of her that had never healed over when it was ripped away.
Jessi held on, soaking him in, knowing it would need to end soon because they were in public and standing near the bar. It was his party after all. After one last sniff, she loosened her arms a little, as did he, until they finally broke apart.
That was when she got the full impact of Mick in person. He wore a pale gray pinstripe suit with a dark blue shirt and a skinny tie.
He had ink on his knuckles—Fists Up—and red roses peeked from the edge of his shirt cuff at the wrists.
Dangerously handsome.
She knew what was beneath the suit pants. Her nipples beaded at the memory.
Quickly—but not so fast he hadn’t noted her attention on his cock—she shifted her attention up to his face and got stuck. His beard was the same caramel brown as his hair when he didn’t wear it shaved. He kept it a little long, but not anywhere near guy-who-has-a-manifesto stage. She liked it. A lot.
Like the hair. That had been a new thing, when he’d come back from Iraq. Not a smooth shave, because he had a perpetual stubble. It was just clipped very close.
She wanted to touch it. Wished she had the right.
Mick had sent them both invitations on a whim and they were both there. Both looking at him the same way they always had, and it was simultaneously the best moment and the worst because he’d left them both behind.
He hadn’t seen Jessi in nearly four years. Gone was the long dark braid she’d worn daily, replaced by one of those haircuts women made look effortless but probably had to be redone every six weeks. The back of her neck was bare—he’d noticed when they’d hugged—and he’d bet it was downy soft.
The dress was … wow. Something he’d never seen her wear before. At first glance it seemed like a classic cocktail dress. It came to her mid-calf and wasn’t cut low in the front. But it had these panels on the sides that offered tantalizing glimpses of one of God’s finest things, side boob.
She had ink and a nose ring. It looked good on her. He wondered what she had going on under the dress. Given the fit, he could see there was a large back piece that wrapped around her biceps and shoulder. She had ink, she didn’t wear a bra, and she was even more irresistible than she’d ever been.
“I missed you too. So …” He waved a hand indicating the space. “What do you think?”
“I think this place is absolutely fantastic. I’m so impressed.”
“Thank you.” Pleasure that she approved hummed through him. “Want a tour?”
He held his elbow out and she took it. Before they walked away, Jessi glanced over her shoulder and waved.
“You know PJ?” he asked.
“I met her a few minutes ago. She was helping me locate you after we had a drink.”
He took two flutes of champagne and handed her one. Guiding her through the building, pointing out the bells and whistles, he tried to pretend he wasn’t keeping an eye out.
“So, you really think this showroom is done well?” Mick had always trusted her eye. And her opinion.
She nodded. “I know a thing or two about staging for an audience. This showroom is really fantastic. I read the thing in the paper about Twisted Steel and how you’ve been named a third partner. I’m pleased things are going so well for you.”
He wanted to kiss her. Wanted to sling an arm around her shoulders and pull her to his side like he had dozens upon dozens of times over the years. There was a hesitancy between them now that there’d never been before and it was his fault.
Instead he blurted, “So you don’t hate me?”
Startled, her eyes widened and she took both his hands in hers, pulling him to the side. “I could never hate you, and if I did, I wouldn’t be here. I’m here because I’ve always been here, just waiting for you to remember that.”
Lauren Dane, Falling Under
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