Talking to him helped a lot, and I almost felt like I had some form of hope to hang on to. I decided I wouldn’t speak to Perry until I talked to Sally again.
Other than being told I was going to lose my job, the worst thing had already happened, so I didn’t have anything further to lose—except maybe my pride.
“So, we’re at my door. That signals the night being over.” I pointed out.
“God, that’s harsh. Aren’t you even going to invite me in for a drink of water?”
I chuckled. “Did you want some water?”
“Not now. Now it would be pity water.” His brows knitted together.
“No, this isn’t fair. I have stuff on my mind. I wouldn’t have thought to ask if you want water, especially since I can see your house from here.” I pointed across the path.
“Okay,” came his simple reply.
I noticed that twinkle in his eyes again. This version of himself—this was the real him, not the person I’d met nearly two weeks ago.
I supposed now that I’d seen the real him, I knew I liked him. I probably shouldn’t have because he was the kind of guy who could be likeable enough to keep seeing, but that wasn’t exactly bad. It was just that over the last few years I’d steered clear of guys I thought were likeable enough to keep seeing.
Tonight, however I couldn’t help myself. It was the temptation of him calling to me and luring me in.
“You’re looking at me weird,” he noted. “What are you thinking?”
“I’ve decided I like this version of you.”
“Yeah? The sexier version?”
An unwelcome blush crept into my cheeks. “The sexier version.”
I leaned back against the door and he came closer, resting his hand just above my head.
The closeness made me think of the kiss. The closeness made me crave the kiss…his kiss.
“You know, tomorrow when I question you about that, you can’t claim drunkenness.”
“I know.”
“And there’s only so much a guy can forget.”
“I know…”
Attraction sparked between us, coursing from me to him. I could feel it and I didn’t want to fight it, no matter any reasoning I could cook up.
“This kind of feels awfully close to last night.” He narrowed his gaze at me. “Have you thought of what parts you’d like me to forget?”
I opened my mouth to reply but found I couldn’t form the words. The answer should have been simple. I should have said all of it, since everything that had happened was so unlike me, and yet my heart screamed its own answer.
Nothing. Don’t forget any of it.
My poor heart, which felt strangely awake and alive within me, screamed out so loud it was deafening, and I couldn’t give him a response.
A wicked smile crept up the corners of his lips. “Having trouble?”
“No, I’m thinking.” I was thankful for the light amber glow of the porch lights because I knew I was blushing.
“Do you want to forget?” He looked at me like he already knew the answer.
I’d never been one to pretend to anything, particularly when I was crumbling inside from the aching pressure of desire.
