More yips and barks ensue, and I can’t help but grin. Looks like Flash is on my team. After a few moments of ringing the doorbell, Audrey yells, “Any chance you are going to stop?”
“No.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“I’m not a good liar.”
“Isn’t that something a good liar would say?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe? I’ve never asked someone if they’re a good liar or not.” She’s probably right. No one will admit they excel at lying.
“How do I know if you’re telling the truth?”
I sigh, resting my head against the door. “I think it’s a leap of faith. You’re going to have to trust me.”
It’s a long moment before she responds, her voice much closer than before. “I don’t like when things are up in the air. I want black and white.”
“I know. I’d like to explain, if you’ll let me.”
It’s silent, and my heart begins to beat so loudly I can’t hear anything else but the sound of my own blood rushing through my veins and arteries. If Audrey said anything, I’m not sure I would have heard her, so I’m thrilled when she tentatively opens the door. Her beautiful hair is in a messy bun, and she’s wearing an old Denver Wolves tee shirt and leggings. She has Flash in her arms, but I can’t focus on the sweet pup, because Audrey’s eyes are swollen and red.
I made her cry, and I don’t know how to rectify that.
Waiting until she sits down on her couch, I sit beside her, but far enough away that I’m not crowding her space. It also keeps me from reaching out to touch her. I’m not a handsy guy, but my fingers positively itch to feel her skin. I want to know if her heart beats as fast as mine when we’re near one another. I hear a muffled squeak, and my body tightens. “Were the pigs alone all weekend?”
“No,” Audrey sighs. “Chelsea fed them Saturday night, and then she snuck over yesterday to feed them again. She came in through my garage.”
“Okay,” I begin, suddenly aware that I planned absolutely nothing to say. Sitting against her front door for twenty-four hours, and I should have had enough time to memorize a monologue. How unfocused was I that I didn’t even hear Chelsea inside Audrey’s house? Jesus. And now I’m hit with the most intense wave of stage fright I’ve ever experienced.
“Yes?” Audrey prompts.
“Shit,” I murmur. “Audrey, I’m really bad with words. I’m probably going to butcher this. But that girl Saturday night was my coach’s niece. He went out of town to his daughter’s college graduation, and his niece was hellbent on still going to the event. He asked me to escort her. I told him that he better make it clear to her there would be no romance at all, and I drilled that point in when she put her hands on me in the car on the way over.”
“She put her hands on you?” Audrey asks, her eyes darkening. I have a moment where a spark of hope lights in my heart. If the roles were reversed, I’d be furious if someone touched Audrey without her consent. Surely this has to mean I still have a fighting chance, right?
“Yes. Well, probably not in the way you’re thinking. She put her hand on my knee, but I put the kibosh on it immediately. I’m a big proponent of consent. It’s why I asked you if I could touch your hair. I have … challenges with being touched when I’m not ready for it. When I don’t expect it.”
“That makes sense,” Audrey replies slowly, her eyes darting between Flash and me. “What I don’t understand is why she was wrapped around you, and why you didn’t tell me immediately what was going on.”
I rub my forehead, feeling a tension headache coming on. Snoozing on concrete on a cold May night probably didn’t help. “I forgot that Coach told me to make sure she didn’t drink. Evidently she gets …” I trail off, searching for the word todescribe Tessa’s behavior from Saturday night, “I guess she gets pretty wild when she drinks. When that old couple came over —”
Audrey interrupts me. “My parents.”
I wince. “Yeah. You have the same nose as your mom, but other than that, you’re nothing like them. I never would have expected that connection.”
“How can you say that when you don’t know them? You barely know me.”
“I’ve met them a couple of times at events, Aud. But I know enough about you to know you’re warm. And comforting. Your heart is full, and you want to bring joy to every animal you meet. You found a box of guinea pigs and ended up adopting all of them. You’re a good person, Aud. And one meaningless interaction with your parents told me that they aren’t the kind of people I want to be around. I’m sorry if that upsets you, but it’s how I feel.”
She tilts her head as she studies me, and I notice one corner of her lips has turned up the tiniest bit. “I guess that does tell me you’re as honest as you claimed. I still don’t know why you didn’t tell me right then.”
Bracing my elbows on my knees, I drop my head into my hands, closing my eyes as a bit of word vomit spews out. “For a variety of reasons. I’m not good with confrontation in public. I think I’ve been trained to be perfect in front of the media, and it’s spilled over into my personal life. And I may not like your parents, but they still scare the hell out of me. Plus, I was definitely speechless because you looked so damn phenomenal in that dress that I couldn’t breathe, and all I wanted to do was take you in my arms and kiss you.”
When Audrey doesn’t make a sound, I continue. “But it’s not like I could kiss you in front of your parents, right? And then I’ve got this psychotic chick hanging on me, and I’m thinking about how my coach is probably going to murder me when he hearsabout everything. I’m trying to come up with a plan that allows me to drop the girl and throw you over my shoulder, all the while keeping your parents from also murdering me, but the thought of you being on my shoulder made me think about your ass, and I’m pretty sure all the blood went to my dick at that point, and I couldn’t focus on much else other than trying to keep it from making an appearance.”
For fuck’s sake. Not many men would admit to a woman they’re attracted to that they couldn’t speak because they were willing a boner to go down, yet here we are. I wait for the inevitability of Audrey announcing that I need to get the hell out, and am therefore incredibly unprepared when she bursts into peals of laughter.
“My parents absolutely hated you,” she cackles. “When I turned my phone back on before letting you in, I had at least fifteen texts from my mother complaining about you. You made a spectacle at our event. You’re not invited back. It’s all my fault, even though I didn’t know you’d be attending.”
