“But you don’t want to … do you?” Her pursed lips are the only answer I get. “So stay. One moment at a time. That’s all it has to be,” I tell her. “There goes one. And another. Look at that … nothing disastrous has happened yet.”
She gives a reluctant smile, and when I pick up a new wineglass from the counter and hold it up, she nods. “Just a little.”
I snag a bottle of already open red wine, and pour a little for her. When she reaches out to take it, I ask, “So you’re pretty cautious, huh? Normally.”
I can’t quite decipher her expression as she answers, “Not nearly as cautious as I should be.”
“You and your mystery. If you’re trying to run me off, you’re doing it wrong. I enjoy a puzzle.”
“I am not a puzzle you want to figure out, Wilder.”
“Sorry, I forgot everything else you said once you used my name.”
She sighs, but it’s more playful than genuinely frustrated, and I think I might have finally cracked her. A little anyway.
“So tell me about your friends. They seem like an interesting group. How long have you known them?”
“Not long.”
“One of these days, I’m going to figure out how to get real answers out of you.”
“How’s Gwen?”
“Changing the subject on me.”
“No, you said to start fresh. This is me starting fresh.”
Baby steps.
I shift and lean back against the counter next to her and try not to think about the scant inch between my hip and her thigh.
“She’s good. I did Christmas stuff with her and my mother all day.”
“How was that?” She seems genuinely interested, and I wonder about her family. She’d said that she had sisters, but they were estranged. How long has it been since she’s seen them? Since she’s spent a holiday with them?
“It was pretty good. A little too much tea party for my taste, but I survived.”
She laughs, and I vow to hear that sound as much as possible tonight. “She played with all her new toys for about half an hour each before she lost interest. She ended the night playing with an old hand-me-down toy of mine. I’m not sure why we bother. We could probably just wrap up toys she already has, and she’d be just fine as long as she still got to open the presents.”
“Maybe she liked the old toy because it was yours.”
“Doubtful.”
“Come on. She practically worships you.”
I choke on a laugh. “If you’d seen the fit she threw the other day when I didn’t let her have candy, I guarantee you would think differently.”
“Kids throw fits. It doesn’t matter who’s with them.”
“I’m willing to bet she wouldn’t throw one with you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What? You don’t count as a normal person? The rules of children throwing fits don’t apply to you?”
Her smile falters just for a moment before she jumps right back into the conversation. “ I just mean … I’m new and different. Once she got used to me, I’m sure she wouldn’t treat me any differently.”
“There’s a way to test that theory, you know.”
She shakes her head and raises her eyebrows in what’s probably a reprimand. It doesn’t do any good though because I like her eyes on me, whatever the reason.
She continues, “All I’m saying is that I’ve seen you two together. That day in the grocery store with the magazine—”
“Oh God. Don’t bring that up. Not my favorite moment … having to explain to her in the car why that particular magazine wasn’t for kids.” I groan.
“She just wanted to be like you. You were reading a magazine, and she wanted one too.”
“Yes, well, I’ve officially given up reading magazines.”
She’s still smiling when she lifts her wine glass to her mouth, and watching her lips part over the rim is definitely one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.
“So how did you meet Lennox?”
She tilts her head, as if considering her answer. “Well, I met Jack first.”
Damn. I wish I could rewind and un-ask that question. But clearly I’m a masochist. “How did you meet him?”
“At an art exhibit on campus.”
I can’t resist the urge to pry for more details. “And when was that?”
Her forefinger taps at her wineglass, and she seems almost nervous. Maybe Lennox was wrong. Maybe Jack has a better shot than she thinks. “About six weeks ago, I think.”
So right after her night with me. Fuck. Fuck.
“He introduced me to Lennox and Avery, and something just kind of clicked. I’ve never had a group of friends like them before, but … I think it’s working.”
“Working? What do you mean by that?”
“Um, well …”
She takes a larger gulp of wine, and after a prolonged swallow (that does nothing for my attempts to keep my eyes off her mouth), she shrugs. “I mean that it’s good, I guess. I usually have just one … close friend. But they’re this tight knit group with all these personalities and talents, and they welcomed me in without any hesitation, and it’s … good.”
I don’t get how someone like her isn’t surrounded by people all the time. She’s vibrant and interesting, and surely it can’t be only me that she has this effect on.
“Well, I’m glad you found them then.”
Maybe I’m imagining it or seeing what I want to see, but her eyes track down to my mouth for just a moment.
“Me too.”
Silence settles between us, but I’m still watching her, and she’s watching me. And there goes that pull again. I shift a little closer so that her thigh touches my hip, and I feel the barest pressure as she returns the contact, accepts it.
“I have a confession to make.”
She asks, “A confession?”
I nod, and then go all in. “I don’t think I’m going to be very good at this whole fresh start thing.” I try to gauge her response, but her expression doesn’t change. Curious. Maybe a little wary. It’s the curious part that I focus on. “I’m trying really hard to pretend that I don’t know what it’s like to kiss you, but I don’t see myself forgetting that anytime soon.”
Chapter Thirteen
She’s warring with herself. I can tell. And I just wish I knew what has her keeping her walls so high. I’ll take them down piece by piece if I have to.