“The event went well last night,” he said. “You did good. Nicholas said people were asking how to book events as they were leaving.”
“Thanks,” she said. Her saving grace. Somehow, someway, she’d pulled herself together to focus on the task at hand. She’d enjoyed herself, knowing others were having a good time, partially as a result of her hard work. It helped that Donovan made himself scarce for the night. His compliment warmed her even as the temperature in the car remained frigid.
Silence, that familiar foe, descended again.
“We should talk about what happened last night.”
Oh. Guess he’d decided spending the next fifteen minutes in strained silence wasn’t the best strategy. Jada looked out the passenger-side window. She saw nothing of the scenery. “What’s there to talk about? We kissed. It was a mistake. The end.”
Donovan sighed. “Jada.”
“Don’t Jada me. You’re the one who wouldn’t even look at me.” She cringed, hearing the hurt and confusion in her voice.
He sighed again. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting…”
Jada turned his way when he didn’t finish his thought. She needed to know. “You weren’t expecting what?”
His scarred hands tightened on the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead. “My intense reaction to you. I haven’t felt anything like that in a long time, and it threw me. And when I get thrown, it takes me a minute to get it together.”
Jada sighed. “I get it.” And she did. She was still having a hard time accepting that she’d felt everything while locked in his arms. That had never happened to her before.
“I’m sorry that it came across as callous. That was never my intention.”
Jada’s heart took a tumble. How could it not? His sincerity rang true. He’d never been anything but a stand-up guy, even when she was driving him nuts. If he could be honest, then so could she. “Thank you for the apology. I was feeling a little hurt because of your reaction, but what you said makes sense. It was a moment, and it’s over. It’s not like either of us are looking to start anything, right?”
“Right.” He sent a shy, uncertain smile, and yet so devastating, her way. “So … friends?”
Jada nodded. “Yes. I can’t promise not to do something in the future that makes you sigh in despair, but yes, we’re friends.”
And if she thought she’d like more? Well, she’d already reminded herself of the various reasons she and Donovan shouldn’t be more. Those reasons were still valid, which left only one viable outcome. Friends only.
He chuckled, lightness finally returning to his eyes. “There’s no doubt that’ll happen.”
Jada rubbed her hands together. “I can’t wait … Donny.”
“It’s Donovan,” he said through gritted teeth, his nostrils flaring.
Score!
Jada snickered. This was way better than strained silence. “Your mama calls you Donny. I’mma call you Donny.”
Meeting his mother and sisters had been eye-opening. It was easy to cast Donovan as the staid stick-in-the-mud. Easier for her, at least. Anything to keep her emotions and feelings in check. Easier not to think of him as a living, breathing, caring human being. But she couldn’t pretend anymore. Not after seeing the loving and close relationship he shared with his mother and sisters. Not after hearing the story about a young Donovan trying to step up to take care of his family. She’d imagined a determined and resolute Donovan gathering his supplies and heading outside to set up a lemonade stand, and her heart had melted.
He shot her the same unamused look he’d undoubtedly fixed on passersby who declined to buy his lemonade when he was a youngster. “I was named after my grandfather, so she calls me Donny in order to avoid confusion.”
She studied his profile and tried her hardest not to get distracted by his razor-sharp jawline and how she hadn’t taken the opportunity to caress it in the supply closet. “I’m going to bet you were eleven when you first asked to stop being called Donny.”
“Ten, actually,” he mumbled.
She laughed. She could totally do this friends thing. Totally.
* * *
Jada flipped open her compact and studied her appearance in the mirror. The sweat she could feel beading at her hairline hadn’t slipped down her face, thankfully. She blotted anyway. She never left home without her invaluable tools. Makeup was armor, and she needed to make sure her equipment was in tip-top shape at all times.