His eyes lazily took in the space as he slowed his stride and gravitated over to the collection of flyers on the adjacent wall. Plucking one out, he flipped it open to read the inside before the corner of his mouth curved up a little.
He was aware I was watching.
And so was Candice, who slid closer to me on her office chair. Keeping a wary eye on Dean, she muttered, “Will you be okay on your own if I use the bathroom?”
If only she used that amount of awareness around James too...
I forced a smile as my pulse spiked. “Yeah, of course.”
With one more wary glance at Dean, Candice left the front desk and waddled off down the hall, completely unaware that he was the one my mother was trying to prevent me from seeing again. Once she was out of sight, Dean put the flier back and approached the front desk.
I stood quickly, placing my hands on the tall counter between us as I leaned forward, keeping my voice to a whisper. “You can’t be in here. If my mom sees you—”
He braced his forearms on the counter, either side of my hands. His skin was peppered with several tiny lacerations, just visible amongst his tattoos, but I struggled to form a question about it as he leaned in, as close as the desk would allow, and lifted a brow.
I gaped at the sudden proximity.
“Yes?” he crooned with a smile.
“She’ll, um...” My eyelids fluttered and I looked at his lips, relaxing my body into the desk as my hands slowly edged across the counter toward him. “She’ll do...something.”
“Is that so?” His expression was coy as he spoke gently, lightly tracing his middle finger down the length of my forearm as he held my gaze.
Jesus Christ...
My thighs pressed together as my fingertips grazed the front of his black shirt. He made me feel like I had been deprived of touch all my life. I wanted him closer.
The sound of shuffled footsteps and heavy breathing doused me in cold realization. I tensed with dread and pulled back. Dean did the same, but slower. His brow lowered with concern as he watched my face. I tried to make myself seem busy, straightening pen cups and business cards before James stepped into the foyer.
“Looking to buy?” James asked with a smile, stepping in beside me as he gave Dean the once over.
"No." Dean pulled his eyes off me to look at James. “Just waiting.”
“For the woman who just walked in?” James let out a low whistle. “She’s something else, isn’t she?”
A muscle ticked in Dean’s jaw, and he looked back at me again. He knew. Somehow, he knew and that made me nervous for an array of reasons.
James frowned at Dean’s blatant uninterest and turned his attention to me.
“I don’t think anything could compare to our Lily though,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around my waist, and pulling me into his side.
My shoulders rose and I forced a smile to mask the grimace on my face when his fingers dug uncomfortably into my side.
“She’s one hell of a receptionist,” James continued with a chuckle.
Dean wasn't listening to a word James was saying as his eyes shot down to where the realtor's hand stopped to rest on my hip — where James’s thumb subtly stroked at the skin beneath the hem of my shirt.
I swallowed quickly, trying to come up with some excuse to move away from James but my mind was void of anything but panic. Only to release a breath when James stepped away on his own, pulling his car keys from his back pocket and twirling them around his finger. A shiny, red Swiss army knife (gifted to him from Mom at a work Christmas party) glinted in the light.
“Well, I better get going. Clients to meet. Houses to sell,” he said smugly, walking around from behind the desk and crossing the foyer.
Dean tracked every one of James’s heavy steps until he left the building. He turned back to me with that all too familiar icy glare in his eyes. Unblinking as his jaw tensed.
“Did he do something to you?”
“No. That’s just what he’s like.” Really? Really?
“To everyone or just you?” When I didn’t respond, his voice softened and he leaned closer. “Has he ever made you do something you didn’t want to do?”
