Page 148 of Last First Kiss
Problem is, Jordan doesn’t quit that easily. He crosses his arms. “And what if he met someone else? Fell in love? What if they didn’t come from”—he gestures around the tent—“this? Would that be a problem?”
Liz puts a hand to her chest, like she’s offended by his questions. “Of course not!”
“We want our son happy,” Jeff tells him in the least convincing voice.
“And if he’s not?”
“Heis,” Liz argues. “How would you know? You’re not his best friend. You’re not Denzel. You’re just—”
Jordan’s narrowed eyes dare her to finish.
She changes her tone. “Not justanyoneis right for our son. We raised him. We know what’s best.”
“Do you?” Jordan challenges.
Jeff downs his second drink. “Listen, I’m sure you think you’re being noble. Doing a good deed by making us—his parents—seem like we’re controlling. You’re wrong.” He lifts his chin as if to look further down on Jordan. “We’re helping. Sloane’s helping. You’re being rude and unprofessional.”
Silence takes over their little circle.
The party carries on. Glasses refilled, musicians strumming, laughter bubbling up from every corner. But when Jordan looks at Jamie, all he sees is sadness. A gray, washed-out version of the man who makes him feel like…
Likehe’sthe best version of himself.
Rage bleeds over Jordan’s vision. He’s had enough.
“You can’t buy the son you wanted,” he growls.
Liz’s shrewd brown eyes widen. She stammers, “H-how dare youimply—”
“Hey, hey.”
Out of nowhere, Sloane sweeps in like a gorgeous angel dropped straight out of heaven and into Jordan’s own personal hell. She rests a hand high on Jamie’s chest.
“Everything okay?”
“No,” Jeff spits.
“Jordan,” Sloane says, her voice endearing, “maybe we should take this elsewhere?”
Jordan glares at her, trying to compose himself.
Liz sucks in a breath. “It’s fine, sweetie. I’m glad you’re here.” She smiles at Sloane and Jamie. The picture-perfect couple. One she and her husband approve of.
Jamie rolls his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable.
Swallowing hard, Jordan says, “For the record: Jamie’s the best person I’ve ever known.” He finds Jamie’s eyes. “He’s kind. Funny. Thoughtful. Way too loyal.”
Dying summer sunlight kisses its way across Jamie’s now blank expression.
Jordan turns his gaze to the Peterses and Sloane. “You’re lucky to know him. To have him around.Hemakes everyone better. Maybe you’re too busy deciding what and who he needs to see that.”
He doesn’t wait for their reactions. Jordan turns to leave.
Well, he tries to.
Instead, Jamie grips him by the elbow. He tugs Jordan through the swarm of guests and out the tent.
Usually, in romance movies, when the hero pulls his love interest from a big party, it’s to confess his deep, unavoidable feelings. To sweep them into his arms. Kiss passionately while some classic ’80s song that has nothing to do with the moment plays in the background. Because of Denz, Jordan’s been forced to watch enough Bridget Jones movies to know what happens next.
