All that time I’d been tracking details I had no business noticing—the way she comfortably inhabited the world, how her laugh changed the energy around her, that razor-sharp tongue that drew me in even when it was aimed directly at me. Meanwhile she was probably annoyed that a stranger she was just being nice to was asking invasive questions about her personal life.
Stupid. I should know better than to let myself get distracted by someone clearly off-limits. This wasn’t a “no-strings-attached” situation like when I was on shore leave. There were strings—so many strings. Two of them were currently looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Right,” I rubbed my left temple in an effort to assuage the sharp edge of pain. “That makes sense.”
Dom studied me a moment, his eyes moving as if he was assessing what to say next. “You should come to dinner with us tonight,” he decided. “We’re taking Sasha out, and there’s something important we want to ask you both.” He glanced at Enzo who was grinning around the last bites of his banana. “It’ll be perfect. You can meet her properly and get to know each other better.”
I thought about Sasha’s abrupt frosty demeanor when I’d mentioned her boyfriend. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“Come on,” Enzo nudged my shoulder. “Sasha’s great once you get to know her. And Alex... well, you’ll see.”
Something in his tone made me look at him more carefully, but his expression was innocently blank.
“Alright,” I gave in. “Dinner sounds good.”
Chapter5
What happens when you accidentally snort in front of a boy you like
Alex
I checked my watch as I settled onto one of the leather sofas in the living room. Fourteen more minutes before Dom and Enzo appeared. Four until our agreed six-thirty departure, and at least ten more until they finally materialized.
I’d chosen a linen batwing blouse in granny smith green with soft white dots, paired with creamy wide-leg cropped chinos. It was cheerful without trying too hard and hit the sweet spot between polished and casual. My trusty Birkenstocks completed the look. Supremely comfortable and fashionable enough to work.
My hair was still in braids but now pinned up around my head. I ran my fingers through my bangs and the few wisps I’d pulled to frame my face, before adding almost-casual eye makeup and lip gloss. Hopefully the photographers who liked to follow Dom and Enzo around wouldn’t find us tonight.
Crossing my ankles and shaking them a bit to get the energy out, I checked my text messages. Aside from my assistant Tabitha rearranging my meetings, everyone had left me blissfully alone.
Until now. Two messages from my business partner, Oliver, sent about an hour ago.
Oliver:Have you given any more thought to our chat last week?
Ugh. Our chat. Our chat about him wanting to retire early so he and Ginny could move closer to their kids in North Carolina. The chat that had my mind spinning around what it meant if he sold hisshare of the studio we’d spent seven years building. I didn’t have money to buy him out, and I didn’t trust anyone else to do it either.
Oliver:I know you’re taking extra time away and I love that for you. You need it. But Ginny asked about it the other day. I think she’s looking at houses.
I sighed and dropped my phone into my leather handbag, uncrossing my ankles and leaning forward to rub my forehead. Ginny’s timing couldn’t be worse, though I didn’t blame her for wanting to be closer to her children. But I had a full plate and just... couldn’t think about it.
Bergamot and cloves filled my nose as Finn moved past me, sitting on the opposite sofa as I glanced at my watch. Of course he’d be exactly on time. Better than late, though. I sat up and offered a small smile, hoping he wouldn’t ask about Alex again.
“You look great,” he smiled back, leaning into the sofa and resting one arm along the back as his eyes moved over me.
“Thanks... you... too.” I cringed inwardly. He did look great, though. Downright delectable in worn Wranglers, brown western boots, and a white button-down. The shirt was perfectly pressed without looking stiff and he’d rolled the sleeves to just above his elbows. The top two buttons were undone, revealing a dusting of dark chest hair against his tanned skin and the thin puckered line of his tracheotomy scar. His hair was still pulled back, and I wondered if he ever let it down, or why he’d grown it and his beard out when everything else seemed to center around military precision.
“Thanks,” he chuckled, cocking his head and regarding me with earnest eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry about this mornin’. I was out of line.”
“It’s fine,” I waved my hand, not wanting my mood to sour. It wasn’t fine, but it wasn’t worth rehashing.
“That’s kind of you to say,” his hand moved to his neck as if reaching for something, then smoothed down his shirt. He readjusted his position, resting an ankle on his opposite knee. “But we both know it’s not fine.”
“No, it’s not,” I admitted, then caught myself. “But I forgive you anyway.”
Something shifted in his expression, surprise and maybe relief. His directness was unexpected, and I couldn’t help noticing how his eyes lightened when he wasn’t guarded. Refreshing after years of men who seemed incapable of honesty until they were telling me exactly how unattractive and difficult they found me.
“You know, most people would’ve just doubled down on ‘it’s fine.’”
“Most people don’t like admitting when things aren’t actually fine,” I shrugged.
