Whoa.

I wobbled a little and I exhaled through my nose and when I spoke, my voice was unsteady and the back of my eyes burned, but I pushed on. “Okay. Let’s do this. And get this done, because I really want that nap.”

Those lips curved against mine. “That’s my girl.”

When Jax walked out of the townhouse, he was tugging the back of his shirt down as he walked down the small set of stairs on the front stoop. He was rocking a pair of mirrored sunglasses, aviator style like Jase wore, and he’d looked just as good in them.

We didn’t talk much as he drove to IHOP, which was good, because I was fixated on what might happen before or after the possible nap. More orgasms not self-induced? Count me in. I was so going to follow through with my newly desired dumbness and not worry about anything else while exploring the dumb.

Like any normal red-blooded female, I’d thought about sex a decent amount, but not as much as I had in the last hour or so. My brain was playing happily in the gutter, right up until the plate of bacon, biscuits, and something Jax had said were grits and that I needed to try.

It was hard not thinking about being out in public without makeup, but every time my mind wandered to it or I thought someone was checking it out, like when a small boy had peeked over the back of the booth or when the waitress smiled at me, I forced it out of my thoughts.

And then my thoughts went to this—this Jax and me thing. There was a thing. As he’d said earlier, he had his hand between my thighs and I’d called his name, so there was a thing. A thing I had little experience in, and I wasn’t sure how far this thing really was going to go, because if my financial aid kicked in, I’d be heading three hours down the road. What kind of future was there for our thing when I’d be at college and he’d be all sexy working the bar?

Why was I even thinking about this? Because I was dumb and I’d already decided that I was going to go with this thing, whatever it was, and whatever going with this thing meant.

I poked at the white lumpy crap with my fork. “This is grits?”

“Try it.”

“It looks like something out of a horror movie.” I poked it again. “I’m afraid it’s going to launch itself off the plate and cover my face.”

Jax chuckled as he added some pancakes to the river of syrup.

“It’s not funny. I’ll end up birthing an alien grit baby or something,” I muttered. “And then what are we going to do?”

He peered up through his lashes, a small, amused grin playing across his lips. “Just try it.”

“What does it taste like?” I resisted.

“Grits.”

I lowered my fork, looking at him blandly. “Details.”