No. He did not get to look crestfallen when he was the one who had a girlfriend or wife or whatever he forgot to mention before climbing into her bed. She was the one who got to be crestfallen, dammit. Jo grabbed a pillow from where it had fallen off the side of her bed and lobbed it at him. It bounced off his muscled back and fell at his feet.
He spun around to face her, his forehead wrinkled. “Whatwas that for?”
“You have a girlfriend?”
“What? No, I—”
“A wife then?” She glanced at his left hand. No ring, just like she knew there would be no ring. Jo always checked for rings. Fool me once, and all that. "What, did you take off your ring before you came to the bar so you could pick up unsuspecting bartenders?”
“You’re the one who propositioned me.”
She stormed across the room and poked him in the chest. “Who’sSugar?”
He grinned, the confusion falling from his expression. She wanted to smack that stupid grin off his face, or kiss it off, or sit on it, or—
“Didn’t take you for the jealous type.”
“I’m not— Why would I be—” Her cheeks flamed, but she refused to be embarrassed. He should be the one who was embarrassed. “Shut up! I’m not jealous, and I don’t appreciate being made the other woman! You’re the one who has a wife. You probably have a different woman in every city. I’ve got news for you, bucko. I’m no man’s dirty little secret.”
She turned to walk away, but he caught her around the waist, tugging her back against him and banding his arms around her. He pressed his lips to her ear. “You are so jealous.”
She squirmed in his arms, but his hold was too tight, and the more she squirmed, the more her ass rubbed against his groin, the more she could feel the growing bulge in his pants. It was a really great bulge. Perfect even.
Not a helpful observation, Jo.
“I’mnotjealous,” she spat, and fuck him because she was mad at him, dammit, but now she was also wet again, and the asshole was smirking like heknew. Not that he could possibly know.
“I don’t have a wife.” His beard scratched lightly along her shoulder. “Or a girlfriend. And I definitely don’t have a woman in every city. Until last night, I hadn’t been with a woman in years.” She scoffed in disbelief. A man like him? Celibate foryears? “Dating isn’t exactly easy since—”
She stopped fighting him, intrigued despite herself. “Since?”
“Since my divorce.” He dropped his arms and took a step back, putting distance between them. When she turned around, he’d set to work buttoning his shirt, the humor gone from his face. In its place, the scowl from the night before had returned, frown lines and all. “Chelsea is my ex-wife. All her friends call her sugar. I’m not really sure why. We’ve been divorced for years.”
Jo watched him warily. It really wasn’t any of her business. This had been a one-night stand. She knew how to have a one-night stand. Get in, get off, get out. She’d probably never see Derek again.
So why did she care so much about what he might say next?
“Why is she meeting you at the airport?”
He brushed his hair back and she realized the scowl he’d worn at the bar wasn’t about being grumpy—it was exhaustion. “So she can drop off my daughter.” If he noticed Jo’s surprise, he didn’t show it. “Annie. She’s seven. She wassupposed to be with her mother this week while I’m on the West Coast, but Chelsea’s mom is sick and she can’t take care of both of them at the same time.”
“You’re a dad,” Jo said, rearranging everything she knew about him, re-examining it through the lens of this new information. He looked so...defeated? Like the weight of his responsibilities were literally pulling his shoulders down, and all she wanted to do was ease that burden. She cocked her hip and arched an eyebrow at him. “I mean, I knew you were adaddybut I didn’t realize you were a father.”
He snorted and shook his head, a soft grin pulling up the corner of his lips. “You’re such a menace.”
Warmth burst in her chest at the affection in his voice, at the knowledge she’d been able to get him to smile, to shake off the grumps even for a moment. She tilted her head towards the kitchen. “I’ll make you a cup of coffee for the road.”
Jo opened and closed cabinets in a fruitless search for coffee, all the while far too aware of Derek’s eyes on her from his position leaning in the kitchen doorway. The top button of his shirt was undone, his clothing wrinkled and his hair messy from where she’d tugged on it. Disheveled. It was a good look for him.
“I know I have a bag around here somewhere,” she said. Or at least she thought she did. Then again, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d made coffee at home. Lately Tessa had been supplying her daily caffeine fix, a free latteand a croissant slid across the counter at the bakery when Jo stopped in to pick up Tessa’s daughter Julie for her morning babysitting.
But Julie was starting daycare this week, having finally gotten off the waitlist at Miss Maria’s. Not only would Jo be out the extra cash from babysitting, now she’d also have to start buying her own coffee and croissants again.
That was a problem for future Jo, though.
She grabbed the open carton of orange juice from the refrigerator, sniffing at the opening. “Okay, so I don’t have coffee, but I can get you a glass of only mildly questionable OJ. No pulp,” she sing-songed as she waved the carton. His eyes flickered to the clock above the stove. “Have a glass of OJ with me before you go. You must need to rehydrate after…”
He smirked as he stalked across the kitchen towards her. “I think we both need to rehydrateafter.”