I shrugged a shoulder as I plucked the pickles off my sandwich. “Don’t know yet.”

“Probably not long, right? There isn’t shit to do around here, and with your mom out doing her thing, there aren’t many reasons to hang around.” There was a pause. “You going to eat those pickles?” When I shook my head, he helped himself to them.

I didn’t respond and I got two bites in before he spoke again.

“You in college? Shepherd?”

My hands stopped halfway to my mouth. “How did you know?”

He’d moved on to his hamburger, placing the borrowed pickles under the bun. “Clyde talks about you every once in a while. So does Mona.”

Every muscle locked up and my stomach soured. Anything that my mother had to say about me could not be good.

Silence fell between us while he removed one of the buns and folded his sandwich into a one-bun burrito. “So, what you studying?”

I dropped my half-eaten burger on its wrapper. “Nursing.”

His brows rose as he let out a low whistle. “Well, my fantasies involving nurses in little white skirts just got a whole lot richer.”

My eyes narrowed at him.

He grinned. “What made you pick nursing?”

Focusing on rolling up my discarded burger in its wrapper, I shrugged again. I knew exactly why, but the answer wasn’t easy to admit, so I changed the subject. “What about you?”

“You mean, what do I do besides bartending?” He finished off the hamburger and grabbed for the fries.

“Yeah.” I watched him. “Besides that and eating a lot.”

Jax laughed that deep, sexy laugh again. “Right now, I’m just bartending. Got my fingers in a few other things.”

He didn’t elaborate, like me, and so I didn’t push it, but that also left very little to talk about.

“Fry?”

I shook my head.

“Come on. It’s the best part of eating fast food. You can’t turn down a fry.” Those eyes of his warmed even more. “It’s pure grease, carbs, and salt. Heaven.”

My lips twitched. “You don’t look like you eat a lot of carbs.”

One broad shoulder rose. “I run every day. Hit the gym before I hit the bar. Means I eat what I want, when I want. Otherwise, life would suck if you spent half your time begrudging yourself of shit you want.”

God, did I know how super-true that was.

So I took a fry. And then two. Okay, maybe five fries before I got up to throw away our trash in a little bin that surprisingly had a fresh trash bag in it. As I washed off my hands, Jax stood and made his way over to the fridge, letting out another low whistle as he opened it up. I had no idea what he was doing. The fridge was empty with the exception of condiments.

He shut the door and propped his hip against the countertop. Taking in the buttercup-colored walls—walls that Clyde had painted before we moved in—and the scratched surface of the small round table we ate at, he drew in a deep breath and his striking face got all serious. Jaw set. Full lips thinned. Eyes deepened to a dark brown, almost mahogany.