“Just you wait.” I continue to shake the dice in my hands, as if the extra shake will steer me away from a five. “I’m going to get past your luxury resorts as you like to call them, collect my two hundred dollars, and turn this board game around.”
“You say that every time you try to pass my luxury resorts, but face it, baby, you can’t seem to pass up my hospitality.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I toss the dice and inwardly pray I don’t roll something that will have me once again feeding his bank.
The dice roll to a stop and show a set of twos.
“Four,” I announce then panic for a second when I check out the board. “Ah-ha!” I count out my four squares and land on Community Chest, avoiding the luxury resorts—thank God. I pick up a card and read out loud. “You inherit one hundred dollars.” I do a little happy bounce and hold my hand out to the banker. “Looks like my luck is about to change, and since I rolled doubles, I get to go again.”
Jack hands me a one-hundred-dollar bill and the dice. “Don’t get cocky now.”
“Ha, coming from the cockiest player tonight.”
He shrugs. “I’ve got to be cocky, babe. It’s in my nature.”
That’s what he likes to think, but after talking to him, after all his messages, I know it’s not the only part of him. No, he’s not a cocky man, but it is the persona he likes to project. I can see right through it.
I roll again and make my way past Go, collect my money, and sit pretty with an extra three hundred in my bank, money I needed desperately.
Continuing to switch back and forth between rolls, I say, “I like that you have original Monopoly. There are so many different versions of the game, and I feel like it’s rare when you see original, or rare when you even play Monopoly.”
“I’m classic.” He shrugs. He nods at the table next to me. “You never ate your fortune cookie. Do you not like them?”
I hold my stomach. “I was digesting. I think I ate my half of Chinese food and yours as well.”
“You sure did woof it down.” He smiles mischievously.
I point at him. “Watch it, mister.”
He holds his hands up in defense. “I apologize.”
Setting the dice down, I pick up my fortune cookie and open it up. I pop a piece of the cookie in my mouth and read the fortune out loud. “Look around, happiness is trying to catch you.” My heart sputters in my chest when I glance at Jack. His gaze is locked on mine, the atmosphere almost morphing into something else, something I don’t know I’m prepared for, something I know I will easily fall for.
“I couldn’t agree more with that fortune.” Jack leans back and takes a sip of his water, cockiness firmly in place.
***
“You didn’t have to take me home. I didn’t mind grabbing an Uber,” I say as Jack parks in front of my house.
“I would never have allowed that.” He puts the car in park, turns it off, and exits his side of the vehicle.
He’s going to walk me to the door. Why does that give me butterflies?
Maybe because I know what kind of things happen when attractive men walk you to your door.
Kisses.
That’s right, all the kisses happen. Lips against lips, tongues tangling with tongues. A walk to the door is a guaranteed make-out session, or at least it gives you the go-ahead for a little peck. Either way, butterflies are fluttering.
And not because I haven’t kissed him already. You and I both know his lips have touched mine, but that’s not what’s making little butterflies flutter in my stomach from the prospect of Jack walking to my door. It’s the fact that the man who will be walking me to my door, the one who will possibly kiss me tonight isn’t just Jack. He’s NY152. And that’s a big freaking deal.
Jack opens my door and holds out his hand, which I take. Helping me to my feet, he shuts the car door once I’m out of the way. Hand still clasped with mine, he walks me down the narrow walkway of my front yard and stops in front of my entryway where he lets go of my hand. I notice the loss of his warmth immediately.
“Thanks for hanging out tonight, friend.” The way he emphasizes the word friend with that smirk on his face, well hell, it makes me feel weak in the damn knees.
“Thanks for having me,” I answer awkwardly, pulling on the sweatshirt I borrowed. “Oh, I should probably give this back to you.”
“Hold on to it for now. You can give it back to me another time.”
“There’s going to be another time?” I ask, a little flirtation in my voice.
He shrugs non-committedly. “We’re friends after all, right?”
“I guess we are.” I chuckle and shake my head in disbelief.
“What?”
“I just never expected us to be friends, that’s all. I mean we’ve had kind of a weird relationship, don’t you think?”
“More like unique, in a good way. Sometimes the strongest bonds are formed during off-the-beaten-track experiences.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll see you around.”
He takes a step backward and my heart starts to sink. Oddly, I don’t want this evening to end, but from the friendship remarks, I’m going to assume Jack wants to keep this platonic. For now . . . at least until he reveals himself. That’s what I’m hoping.
“Wait,” I say before he can put too much distance between us. Smiling at me, he waits for my next move. Before I can stop myself, I throw my arms around him and rest my head on his chest, hugging him tightly. Not making me wait, Jack wraps his arms around me as well and pulls me in close.
Warm, woodsy, and clean. That’s how I describe his scent.
In a flash, our first date crosses my mind, the amazing night we had on the beach, dancing, the card game we played. That night was a pinnacle in my life, a life-altering night, a night that has lived with me since. I haven’t been able to forget it, because it’s the date that told me he might very well be the one.
After tonight and all his messages, I can see why my intuition was so strong. Jack Valentine is my perfect match.
“I could get used to this.” He chuckles, his chest rumbling beneath me.
I squeeze him tighter. “I just wanted to let you know I had a good night. I’m glad we’re friends.” I look up at him, and oh God, his lips tempt me.
“Yeah?” His smile sears me in two, his teeth so white, his scruff so sexy.
“Yeah.” I squeeze him once more and then step away, feeling a little awkward from my impromptu embrace. I needed something a little more than a verbal goodbye.
Stepping back, he grips the back of his neck, almost a tortured look on his face when he says, “Have a good night, Noely.”
Waving, I reply, “You too, Jack.”
With a heavy sigh, I turn to my house and wish my night with Jack didn’t have to come to an end. But perhaps because he wants my nights in the future—and I know in my heart that I absolutely want that too—I can be content tonight.
Chapter Thirty-Six
NOELY
Noely,
Have you ever wondered what your life will look like in ten years? Where you’ll be? What kind of life you’ll be living? Do you think you’ll still be hosting Good Morning, Malibu? Or do you think you’ll be living in New York City, working on Good Morning, America, living in some swanky apartment with an orange tabby cat and a rotation of male models going in and out of your apartment?
Me
NY152,
Rotation of male models, don’t mind if I do! Thanks for the suggestion.
As for the rest of my life, I don’t know. I can’t imagine living in New York. Not only does the cold weather not suit me, I can’t imagine living in such a big city. I like how Malibu feels like a small town when it really isn’t. If that makes sense.
I guess I haven’t thought about ten years ahead. I’m still working on the here and now. What about you?
Noely
Noely,
There better not be a rotation of male models going in and out of yo
ur door. That would be a joke gone wrong.
Hmm . . . ten years from now? That’s easy, I want to be a family man. Kids, soccer games on the weekends, Friday night pizza nights, waffles every Sunday morning, and rocket ship rides to bed every night, with the obvious crash landing into the mattress. I want to be able to kiss my kids good night and then hold my girl for the rest of the evening either playing cards or watching a movie.
I’m not saying this to win your heart. I’m telling you this so you know where I’m at in my life, where I want to be. Does that scare you?
Me
NY152,
That doesn’t even scare me in the slightest.
Noely
***
Noely,
What’s your favorite recipe you stole from your show?
I tried making that lamington recipe the other day that you made with that Australian baker and failed miserably. My coconut wouldn’t stick, and when it came to the coconut, my heavy hand flattened my squares. It tasted okay, maybe because I used olive oil instead of vegetable oil, or maybe because I swore the entire time while making it. Either way, it didn’t come out the way it did on your show.
Me
NY152,
You made lamingtons? I don’t know why I think that’s so adorable. It’s really not that hard to make, so I’m actually surprised you messed it up.
And my favorite recipe from the show? Hmm, probably the cranberry orange pancakes we made last year during the fall. Oh my God, they are so good. Maybe one day, I’ll make them for you.
Noely
Noely,
Don’t fucking tease me.
You know I would take you up on making me pancakes so fast, especially if it meant gaining a second chance with you.
Me
NY152,
Are you really worried about a second chance? Don’t you think you’d get one by now?
Noely
Noely,
Honestly, I have no idea. I let you get away once. A second time would just about wreck me. It’s a chance I’m not sure I’m ready to take.
Me
***
“Great show, Noely.”
“Thank you,” I reply, walking through the halls of the studio with one thing on my mind: tacos. I want all the tacos in my mouth right now. And queso. Tacos and queso. I’m skipping my gym session and I’m stuffing my mouth with chips, queso, and freaking tacos.
My heels click loudly across the cement floor as I approach my dressing room door.
“Noely.” Kevin’s annoying voice rings through the hallway.
Hand on doorknob to my dressing room, I ask, “What?”
“Next week, we have Turk coming in to discuss decorating your Christmas tree. Are you going to be okay with that?”
I roll my eyes. Turk Gunderson and I had a little spat off air last time he was here. It was a pointless fight about stepping on his toes during his segment and me telling him to grow up. Not my finest moment, but really, you’re going to get mad about me stepping on your toes? Ridiculous.
“If I said I wasn’t okay with it?”
“Then I would tell you to suck it up. Whenever Turk is on the show, we have amazing ratings.”
Exasperated, I say, “Then why even ask?”
He shrugs. “Not sure. Maybe to get on your nerves.”
I shake my head. “You’re seriously the worst. Pushing my buttons for the hell of it has never gotten you anywhere, Kevin. And now all you’ve done is ruined my mood to eat tacos. Damn you.”
He dusts off his hands and says, “Then my work here is done.” With a giant, annoying smirk, he spins on his heel and heads to his office, man muffins hanging over his pants and everything.
God, he’s annoying.
Irritated, I walk into my dressing room with a sour taste on my tongue. Stupid Kevin.
“Hey Noely.”
“Ah,” I scream, holding my hand to my chest while staring right into Jack Valentine’s eyes. “Oh my God, what is wrong with you?”
Chuckling, he stands from my couch and swaggers toward me, his suit caressing his fit body. Flashes of the last time we were in this room together run through my head, heating my veins to dangerous levels.
Without saying a word, Jack pulls me into a hug, and the tension I was experiencing evaporates under his touch.
“I meant to surprise you, not scare you.” Putting some distance between us, he adjusts his tie and gives me a once-over. “You look beautiful. Yellow is a gorgeous color on you.”
“Uh, thank you,” I answer shyly. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I would take my friend out for lunch. Are you free?”
“Well . . . I did have a date with tacos.”
“Yeah?” Jack raises his brows at me. “Then let’s get you some tacos.”
I have just enough time to snag my purse and phone before he takes my hand, ushers me out the door, and down the hallway.
I allow him to guide me through the halls of the studio, because I’m so focused on what his large hand feels like wrapped around mine. It makes me feel warm, taken care of, and that I don’t want him to let go of it.
It reminds me of just how happy I am to see him.
God, am I happy to see him.
Once we’re in his car, the smooth leather beneath me, the smell of his cologne engulfing me, he says, “I know a great place for tacos. Do you trust me?” His hand is on the gearshift, his other gripping the steering wheel, looking sexy powerful.
I nod. “I trust you.” There is no way I can’t. “Yes, take me to tacos.”
We zip through the streets of Malibu, and it’s fun watching tourists take in the expensive car. Jack pulls off the street and parks next to a meter. I’m surprised when I see a little hole-in-the-wall place with a neon sign in the window that says tacos. I would never think about stopping here, but from the look of contentment on Jack’s face, I’m going to assume this place is really good.
Taking my hand when we’re out of the car, we make our way into the restaurant, pass the hostess stand with a sign that says seat yourself, and through a black curtain that opens into a cantina-style courtyard. Palm trees provide the space shade and little wrought iron bistro seats are scattered around the cobblestone ground.
“Oh my God, this place is so not what I expected.”
Jack squeezes my hand. “You can’t judge a book by its cover, Noely. Just because it doesn’t have a picture on the front, doesn’t mean it isn’t going to be the most amazing thing you ever experience.”
“Noted.” Looking around, I point to table in the corner. “Want to sit over there?”
“Sure.” With his hand on my lower back, he walks us over to the corner table and pulls the chair out for me. Such a gentleman. When he sits across from me, he undoes the button of his suit jacket and picks up the menu. “The shrimp tacos with garlic lime sauce are so damn good.”
“I love shrimp. Should I even look at the rest of the menu?”
He shakes his head. “No need, these will be just what you’re looking for. Want some guac and chips as well?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s not a taco party without chips and guac.”
“And a margarita.” He wiggles his eyebrow. Jack retreats behind the curtain where I’m assuming he’s going to order, giving me time to take in more of the restaurant.
Interesting place with the indoor-outdoor feel, the big bulb lights strung along the perimeter of the space, and the ivy climbing up the stucco walls. It’s quaint, charming, a place I would love to visit at night.
Once Jack’s sitting across from me again, I can’t help but stare at him. Clean-cut scruff around his jaw, his hair styled to the side, so full and dark, and those lips . . . they’re calling to me. All I want is to feel his lips on mine again.
“Are you dating right now?” Jack asks, throwing me out of my reverie and into a serious tailspin.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Have you started dating again?” He leans back in his ch
air, just as someone brings us salt-rimmed margaritas and water glasses. Keeping his gaze on me, he brings his margarita causally to his lips and takes a sip.
What is he doing? What’s his game? He should know I’m not dating, that I’m kind of waiting for him to spill the beans about the whole NY152 thing. Soooo why is he asking me if I’m dating?
Unless . . .
He’s not NY152.
I chew on that thought for a second before nixing it. He’s NY152. I can’t be wrong.
So why is he asking me if I’m dating? There is only one way to find out.
“No, but I’m talking to someone on the app.”
His eyebrows rise in curiosity. He’s so hard to read right now, and it’s driving me a little crazy. “Is that so? You’re talking to someone. Are you interested in him?”
Is he feeling me out? Trying to see if I could fall for him, seeing if he’s done his job and I’m ready to fall head over heels for him.
“I am,” I answer honestly. “Very much so.”
Face impassive, he nods and takes another sip of his drink. “How long have you been talking?”
“Long enough to know I want to have more than a relationship through messages.”
Studying me, his eyes growing more intense with each passing second, he says, “It seems like you really like this guy.”
Knowing if I want this little tête-à-tête to end, I need to encourage him. “I do. He’s sweet, kind, funny, and has a beautiful heart. As my friend, I think you’d approve.”
“You think? I don’t know about that.” Jack rubs his jaw in thought. “Why are you still talking on the app then? Why not go on a date?”
Okay, his questions are really starting to throw me for a loop here.
Feeling a little shy now, even though I’m almost positive NY152 is Jack, I say, “He, uh, he wanted to take some time to get to know me.”
“And has he?”
“I think so. I at least hope so, because I’m starting to get a little impatient.” I lift my gaze and look at Jack through my eyelashes. “He’s kind of captured my mind and soul. I want more from him now.”
“I see.” Jack takes another sip from his margarita, so I do the same but instead of a sip, I take one giant gulp. “This guy, he seems to know what he’s doing, as if he’s getting you to a point in conversation where you have no choice but to beg to finally meet him.”