“I’m good.” He smiles. It’s sexy and full-blown, brightening his already brilliant eyes.
Oh. God.
I stand there for a moment, staring at that smile. It’s the Tyler smile, the one that had me falling in love with him in high school, though the look in his true blue eyes might be a part of it.
My heart races, my face flushing. Tyler doesn’t smile at me anymore. Not really. Not the full-blown deal. A quirk of the lips, a grin that might touch his eyes, but this is different. This is unrestrained and glowing. As if I light up his world.
I hadn’t realized it until now. Hadn’t realized how his not budging an inch when it came to me protected us both. But he’s letting down his guard. Pulling out all the stops.
“I have to go.” I rush around the counter and snake my purse from the top, gingerly, so as to not brush one hair on his body.
His smile fades. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
I make the mistake of glancing back, not sure what I’m expecting to see. Maybe a smug I-did-that-sexy-smile-on-purpose look. But his expression is one of masked disappointment.
That’s worse than smug. If I’m reading it right, it means his smile was genuine. He was happy just being with me. And my reaction—a bone-deep attraction—is totally out of control. If all he has to do before I’m ready to whip off my bra and launch myself on him is smile, we’re in the danger zone. Loose cannons everywhere inside our house.
How am I supposed to take things slow when he looks at me like that? Suddenly, this living together has gone from explosive to downright cataclysmic.
I pull my keys from my purse and walk out the door.
In my socks. Crap.
Too bad. I’m not going back.
Tyler seems serious about his feelings for me, but there’s no way I can jump into this. It’s not smart after all we’ve been through.
My feelings for him have grown, and losing him this time might be the one thing in life that finally breaks me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I smooth my hand over the new beige upholstery in Tyler’s truck on our way into work. Tyler has offered me rides before, but today I gave in. My car wouldn’t start. There weren’t many other options.
I’d gone by Cali and Jaeger’s the other night after I left Tyler—in my socks—and hung out until it grew late enough to sneak home and into my room. Tyler was at his dining table office. He looked up when I walked in and shook his head, as if I were a mystery he had no hope of figuring out.
“When did you get this done?” I point to the upholstery. The last time I was in his car, his seats were worn to the padding in some places.
His gaze flickers over. “A week or so ago. It was time. It wasn’t safe. You were cutting yourself every time you got in.”
I stare at the side of his head. He reupholstered his car for me?
While I’m still puzzling this through, we arrive at the casino parking garage. Tyler sprints around the front of his car and closes the door behind me as I get out. His hand goes to my lower back while we walk to the casino’s back entrance, and he opens the door for me. Once inside, Tyler doesn’t touch me, but he remains close, as if we are together. Together, together.
I said I wanted to take things slow. Wanted to make sure we had a future before rushing into things, but Tyler is already treating me like his girlfriend. It should bother me.
It doesn’t.
I realized I was in trouble the other night, and my ability to keep him at arm’s length has steadily dropped lower and lower. The funny thing is, I don’t think he’s doing all this to seduce me, or to convince me of anything. I get the feeling that he’s simply not holding himself back anymore.
How does a girl keep to her convictions of going slow when a guy brings his A-game like this?
It’s the weekend of the music festival, and both Tyler and I arrived for a later shift in order to work through the evening. We’ve hung out a bit these last couple of days, but I’ve also kept busy by visiting Becky and John, Cali and Jaeger, and Nessa. I even swung by to watch more episodes of GoT with Zach—anything to keep things from going too far with Tyler, because I can feel the heat.
The longer we live together, hover over each other, the more my defenses break down. I want him. And now, with this business of reupholstering his car so that my arms won’t get scratched? He. Is. Killing. Me.
Tyler is still the boy who scared away my bullies in junior high, who made sure I passed algebra in high school, and who sees me like no other human being has before. And now he’s a man, self-possessed and confident, and he’s showing me in every way possible that I’m important to him. How much longer can I hold myself back? Or do I at all?
