“How old were you?”
“Four by the time I moved in. When I was six I noticed we didn’t have any extended family, so the three of us took a vote and decided to make one of our own. Matilda never does anything small, which is how I ended up with nine brothers. A new one every year, all around my age.” I smirk because I know how insane it sounds. “We had another vote when I was fourteen to stop her after Christopher showed up. An even dozen in one house was enough.”
“Ten teenagers at the same time, no less. They must be saints.” He laid his arm over the couch behind me, his words careful. “All fostered? Were they not able to legally adopt any of you? I’m sorry, I’m just not sure how all that works.”
“No, it’s fine.” The question makes that old wound ache again. “In every way that matters, they’re family. You hear about those nightmare foster home stories, but we genuinely lucked out. And Rick inherited a giant house with some land, so we weren’t suffering at all. But adoption wasn’t an option, no.”
“So then, JD Green…”
“The name I was born with.”
I can do this. I can sit in my pajamas with a half-naked man and chat about my strange family like we’re an ordinary couple. Of friends. Like we’re an ordinary couple of friends.
His arm brushes my shoulders and I actually shiver. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?”
“What does JD stand for?”
“My name? That’s your personal question?”
“It is if you don’t want to tell me.”
“You’ll laugh.”
“I won’t.”
Everyone does. But it’s late and my defenses are down and he smells amazing. “I’ll give you a Jeopardy hint. I’m named after a rebel without a cause.”
He laughed. “James Dean? You were named after the actor?”
“That’s right. The porn star came around much later. But you lose points for not answering in the form of a question. Who is…” I fade off with a wink.
He leans back, scratching his beard thoughtfully while my fingers curl with envy. “I’m assuming there’s a story behind that.”
“I guess there would have to be.”
His hand drops to my back and he starts to stroke it in soft, gentle circles that I feel everywhere. “Tell me a story, Green.”
How could anyone say no to that voice? “Once upon a time, or somewhere in Washington circa nineteen-ninety, my mother finally went all the way with her boyfriend after graduation. It happened at the old drive-in that was about to be torn down. Giant was playing. It’s an old movie with Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor and—”
“James Dean,” he finishes for me. “I know it. Classic film.”
I’m too busy trying not to notice how close he is to be impressed. My skin keeps tingling everywhere he touches me. “Matilda says I was conceived that night and my mother wanted to memorialize the magical backseat encounter, so there you go. The end of a not-that-epic story. I guess I should be grateful I wasn’t named after his character, or you’d be calling me Jett Rink.”
“Why not Rock?” Carter is smiling again.
“She had a thing for grunge scene bad boys, I hear. The more misunderstood and moody the better. So I got stuck being James Dean Green, or Jimmy Dean Green. Rick calls me Jimmy. But that was worse. I was literally teased about my sausage for a full year in third grade before I decided on shortening to JD.”
He lifts his hand and pushes my hair out of my eyes, his touch lingering. “James is a good name. It suits you.”
“No, it doesn’t.” How can I think when he’s touching me? “James is a rebel. Or a police detective like Wyatt’s brother.”
“Not a beautiful man who notices everything, with a talent for making people smile?”
Beautiful man. My heart is pounding in my ears at the compliment, but I try to play it off. “Quid pro quo, pal. There were a lot of famous Carter’s around when you were born. Linda, Jimmy, Clarence. Any connection?”
His chuckle sounds like sin. “Sorry. Carter was my grandmother’s maiden name. No exciting stories about my conception either. I’m a boring old man.”
I could argue that point all night. “Look, Carter, about earlier—”
“Today? When you kept finding ways to avoid looking me in the eye?”
“Yes. No. Not today, but I’m sorry about that. I mean last night.”
His gaze narrows in on my lips. “When we were in the kitchen?”
“Right.” Focus, Green. “That’s right, last night in the kitchen wh—”
“When I told you I wanted more?” he interrupts again, the desire in his eyes now unmistakable. “When I almost got a taste?”
His fingers sift through my hair and a whimper escapes before I can stop it. “Oh. Yeah. Exactly… Um, I want to make sure we don’t have our wires crossed here. I know you’re a good guy and, I mean, you gave me a place to stay and everything. And you seem like an affectionate guy, so touching might come naturally to you. But based on what happened last night and, um, what you’re doing now, I think you might be letting me know th—oh, God.”