“That’s not what I meant either.”
The lack of oxygen makes it difficult to come up with words. I just look at him like we should break into chatter about our lives, joke about things that used to make us laugh. Only we can’t. There’s a wall between us we can’t skirt. It’s built with just as many tears and just as much betrayal as it is any good times we shared.
I shift my weight, lift my chin, and feel my guard start to wane. My lips part to speak when I’m cut off by the sound of a high-pitched squeal.
“Neely! Is that you?”
I rip my eyes off Dane, and they settle on a set of bright-red curls. “Claire! Oh my gosh. How are you?” I pull her into a hug as she holds a cup out to each side.
“I’m so excited to see you, girl,” she says. “I haven’t seen you in, what? Ten years?”
“Close enough.” I laugh. “How are you? What have you been up to? Still seeing Happy?” I ask, pointing to his name tattooed on her wrist.
“Oh, hell no. That was a drunken mistake years ago.” She sighs, rolling her eyes. “I just tell people I got it for my cheerful demeanor.”
“That’s a crock of shit,” Dane mutters. Claire bumps him with her hip, careful not to spill the coffee in her hands.
“I have to jet to the back and help pack up an order for the fire department.” She hands Dane a cup. “This one’s for you. And this one,” she says, turning to me, “must be for you.”
“I didn’t order anything yet. I do want a cup of coffee, though. Black, please.”
She bites her lip. “Coffee. Black.” Nodding toward the cup, she extends her hand again. “Dane ordered it for you. Or I guess it was for you.”
I glance at Dane. He nods, tossing me a little smile that throws me. My insides flop like a fish out of water, one direction one second, another the next. My attention flips to him in an unguarded moment.
He takes a sip of his drink—coffee with two sugars and one creamer, if he still takes it the same as before. To anyone watching, he’d seem cool and collected. I, however, see the fire hidden in his eyes. Feel the heat in his gaze. Hear the questions sitting on his tongue.
The last time we saw each other came with a finality that was as hard to accept as it was necessary. It came with more pain than anything I’ve ever endured on the gymnastics floor or in the business world. All the reasons why come flooding back as I feel him burn through my defenses.
Forcing a swallow, I make myself look at Claire. “How much is it?”
“Stick it on my tab,” Dane says.
“No. I’ll pay for it.” I put my hand into my pocket.
“If you think I’m taking your money when he’s standing there, you’ve forgotten where you are, Neely. I’m not getting on his bad side over a cup of coffee.” She shrugs. “Now take this. I need to get to the kitchen.”
She shoves the cup into my hand.
“Um, thanks,” I say, still uncertain whether to accept it. “Let me at least give you a tip.”
“I add ten percent on Dane’s bill every month. No worries.” She winks, moving to miss Dane’s shoulder bump. “Will you be in town long? I want to catch up.”
“Probably not. A couple of days at most.”
“Well, I’ll find you.” She glances toward the kitchen. “I really do gotta go. Talk to you soon.”
“Okay. Bye, Claire,” I say, giving her a little wave.
With each step she takes away from us, the air grows thicker. I used to know without looking when Dane walked into biology class. I swore the air changed. Standing this close to him now, I believe my assessment back then was probably true. The space around him is charged with some invisible, magnetic energy I can’t describe but that pricks at the very fiber of my being.
Jerk.
“Thank you for the coffee,” I say, finding my voice. “I will say I’m kind of surprised you remembered how I like it.”
“Not a big deal.”
My stomach flutters like a teenage girl’s, and I try to override the sensation and remind myself I’m a grown woman. A capable woman. A smart one—a smart enough one not to be dazzled by his smirk.
He’s a couple of steps away, but it feels as if he’s right up against me. My shirt clings to my chest, the air so warm my lungs almost refuse it.
He twists his Dodgers cap backward. As if I need more of a reason for my heartbeat to go wild, I get a better look at his face. His skin is tanned, a couple of days’ worth of stubble scattered on his cheeks. Under his left eye is a purplish mar, and I can only begin to imagine where that came from.
“How have you been?” he asks, tapping his thumb against the side of his cup.
“Great.”
“Where you living these days?”
“New York,” I say, wishing I’d prepared more for this scenario. As I stand in front of him, I mentally smack myself for not thinking this through.
“New York? Nice.”
“Yeah. I love it there. What about you? How have you been?”
“Doing good. Been working on a house up on Zion’s Hill. Some lawyer from Nashville bought it and is completely redoing the whole place. About done with it, though.”
“Carpentry?”
His lips purse and he nods.
“Took after your dad, after all.”
We exchange a soft, genuine smile. The mention of his father settles over the ball of frayed nerves in my stomach, softening it a touch.
I always loved Nick Madden. He worked hard, was kind of a hard-ass, but was as sweet as pie when you got to know him. He loved me too. He taught me how to change the oil in my car and to throw a punch—just in case I ever needed to know.
“How is he?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t.
“Same. Busting my ass all the time.”
“You probably need it.” I grin, ignoring the ease of the words. “There are worse things than taking after him, you know.”
“I kind of fell into it.” Dane shrugs, bringing a hand to his cheek and sliding it over his chin. A yellow-and-green bracelet is wrapped around his wrist, the colors emulating the hues of his eyes. “Got laid off at the mill a few years back. Didn’t really have a choice. But I kind of like it.”
I bring my cup to my mouth. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your dad you said that.”
He laughs. “Please don’t. I’d never hear the end of it.”
My laugh melts together with his, and for this one split second, I breathe easy and enjoy a familiarity I haven’t had with anyone in so long. “How’s your brother?”
“Same. Total asshole. But Matt works for me now, so that gives me some leverage.”
“I bet that’s a fun day on the jobsite.”
“It’s a real treat.” He regrips his cup, the veins in his forearm flexing. “We work together pretty well, actually. We have quite a little crew. Get a lot of work.”
My eyes travel up his muscled bicep, over his wide shoulders, and up his thick neck. I gulp. “I bet you’re good at it.” I think back to the way he could strum a guitar or fix practically anything. “You always were good with your hands.”
As soon as the words pass my lips, I realize what I’ve done. He fights a smirk. I want to die.
“Thanks,” he quips, the smirk growing by the second.
Sticking the coffee between us, I shake my head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
Pulling the cup to my lips to hide my errant blush, I override the part of my brain telling me to leave. A grin kisses his lips, and I hold my breath for whatever is to come.
“If anyone would know how good I am at anything, it would be you,” he says.
It’s true at face value, but the innuendo is right there for the taking. My thighs clench together as I consider what Dane could do to me now. With that body. With those lips. With that damn smirk.
The latter grows deeper. He thinks he has me. He might be right. But just as he might not completely be the bad boy next door anymore, I’m also not the naive teenager who wears her heart on her sleeve. And I’m definitely not a fool.
Tossing my shoulders back, I shrug. “It’s hard to remember after all these years. You’ve kind of faded from my mind.” Lies, lies. All lies.
We stand eye to eye, our chests rising and falling in time. I need to leave. I need fresh, un-Dane-scented air. But if I do, he may misinterpret it, and I refuse to let him have the upper hand.
“You married?” he asks nonchalantly, but there’s a hint of deception in his eyes. He’s bracing himself for my reaction, knowing, or at least suspecting, his tiptoe into these waters won’t be met with grace.
He’d be right.
A bucket of cold water douses the warmth of the moment, and I shiver. My guard comes up and locks into place. “I think the real question is, are you?”
“Nope. Never been married.”
My eyes grow wide before I can catch them. Why that answer surprises me I don’t know, and before I can think about it too much, I change the topic.
“Nice shiner you got there,” I note, nodding toward his eye.
“If I told you how I got this, you wouldn’t believe me.”