Jake ignored her and looked closer at the picture, focusing on each face in the shot. There was Holly, to the left of center, her arm wrapped around Evan’s waist. A few other people Jake didn’t have names for, people he’d seen Holly with on campus, or who had come over after church but he’d never bothered to remember who they were. But none of them looked like what he remembered about the guy from the club.
Damn.
Jake tossed aside the frame. “Nothing in that picture but a bunch of Jesus geeks.”
Turning, Holly propped a hand on her hip and fought back a smirk. “You don’t see him?”
“I don’t see anyone I’d fuck,” Jake groused.
“Wow, that’s saying a lot.” With her foot, Holly nudged the laundry basket towards him. “And here I thought you’d fuck anything.”
“Anything hot,” he pointed out.
Reaching over, she slapped his leg. “Then I have a curling iron in the bathroom with your name on it. Get off my bed already, will you? You’re wrinkling the sheets.”