Page 84 of Jig's Last Dance

What was he thinking when he requested this? Was it a memory? A person? Or maybe I’m being stupid, and he just thought it was cool.

Goosebumps rise on his skin. Pleasure flies through me at the notion that I’m making him feel. Me. Without conscious thought, I kiss his arm, and he stiffens before turning and grabbing my chin.

His eyes are wild when he meets my gaze. I flinch away from the emotion, my heart tripping in my chest. We’re frozen until he drops me as though burned and rearranges his features, pulling a silly grin onto his face.

Disturbed, I back away as he says in a playful lilt, “You want dick, sunshine? All you have to do is ask.”

Searching his eyes, I slowly nod and turn back to the front, clenching my hands in my lap.

What just happened?

Jig puts the truck in gear, and we drive away silently. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, I shudder because I think I left a piece of me behind on that lonely stretch of road.

By the time we pull up to the house, Jig is back to his mischievous self, but I’m still reeling. I saw a part of him I don’t think he allows himself to feel, and I don’t know what to do with it.

Ignore it? Or delve deeper?

There’s pain there, a lot. And my heart hurts at the notion, but I can’t save him. He’s lost.

Fuck.

“Wait here,” I mumble, and for once, he does as I ask.

Circling the back of the house, I climb up to my window, but this time it’s fucking locked. Shit.

Wrenching on it in frustration, I bang against the wood when it doesn’t give way. After, I search the rest of the windows before leaning against the house with a sigh. Now what?

“Problems?” Jig says, and I practically jump out of my skin before spinning to him, leaning against the house with a smirk.

Narrowing my eyes, I huff but concede, “He locked me out.”

Jig smiles, and I turn away from the brilliance. I need to keep my shit together before I lose myself.

Producing a small pouch, he leads me to the door to the garage and pulls out a set of metal picks. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am as I stare dumbly while he picks the lock.

With a flourish, he stands and holds out his arm to the open door. Frowning, I precede him inside and head up the stairs. I don’t know how long we have, and I’d prefer not to get caught stealing guns if my brother should happen to come home.

At the top of the stairs, I hesitate before turning to Jig behind me. He’s glancing around curiously, and I cringe when he stops on a picture of me from the seventh grade on the wall.

My wide smile is covered in braces, and my hair is a wild halo around my face. Jig turns to me with a snicker, and I eye him speculatively.

“Cute,” he says.

“You’d look cute with a black eye,” I growl. “Wait here.”

“Nope,” he says, and I swing around.

“Yes.”

“No.” His mouth lifts at the corner, and I raise my eyes to the ceiling.

“Jig.”

“Sunshine.”

“Grr,” I say, swinging around and stomping down the hall. The guy is fucking maddening.

He follows quietly, either sensing my obvious annoyance or hiding his victory. I don’t fucking care either way.