“Don’t feel sorry for me, Lucy,” he said. “I don’t usually tell people about my childhood because I don’t want pity. It’s so . . . demoralizing.”
“I don’t pity you,” she protested. “If anything, I admire you, Alex. You rose above all that to become an amazing teacher, and then to marry and raise a family. You’ve had a lot of hard knocks and you’re still going strong. That’s pretty impressive, in my book.”
He glanced away. “I don’t know how strong I am,” he said in a low voice.
“Hey, you climbed a greasy pole today,” she reminded him. “And you did it for your daughters. I think you’re pretty darn strong.”
He turned to look at her then, and the expression on his face made Lucy feel as if the breath had been vacuumed from her lungs. She wanted him to kiss her so badly it hurt.
But he didn’t.
He just smiled and gave a little shake of his head before saying quietly, “Thank you.”
“No problem,” she croaked.
Alex didn’t answer, and the moment spun on. Reluctantly Lucy unfolded herself from the sofa. “I should go,” she said, even though she didn’t want to. She held out her hand. “Can I take your coffee cup into the kitchen?”
“Thanks.” He handed her his cup and then followed her out of the sitting room, his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.
She rinsed out both of their coffee cups and put them in the dishwasher, conscious of the silence stretching between them. This was end-of-a-date awkward, and she didn’t even know if today qualified as a date.
“Thanks for today,” he said, moving to the side of the doorway so she could get past him in the hall.
“You don’t need to keep thanking me, Alex,” she said as she reached for her coat, which she’d hung on the newel post. “I enjoyed it.”
The hall was dim and quiet save for the tinny sound of the TV from upstairs; Poppy was watching in Alex’s bedroom and Bella’s door was closed. The intimacy of the dark hallway, the two of them nearly brushing shoulders, felt cringingly suggestive.
“I enjoyed it too,” Alex said, and cleared his throat. The noise sounded like a gunshot in the quiet of the hall. God save her from moments like these.
“Well . . .” Lucy buttoned up her coat and moved towards the door. “I guess I’ll see you on Monday.”
She was at the door, one hand on the knob as she turned for a final good-bye. Why she turned at all, she didn’t know. Maybe she really had been hoping all along.
“Lucy . . . ,” Alex began, and she felt her heart stop for a second, and then start beating hard. The very air around them felt electric. It was going to happen. Thank God.
He reached out and placed his palm flat on the door, his arm brushing her hair. Lucy waited, everything in her stilling and yearning all at once.
“Lucy,” he said again, and then with a little grimace, as if he were sayingScrew this talking crap, he lowered his head and kissed her.
The first brush of his lips against hers reminded Lucy what a kiss felt like, what it was meant to be. How sweet and lovely andimportantit was.
And while it had started as a simple, fairly chaste good-night kiss, it quickly morphed into something else. Alex pressed Lucy against the doorway, his hands sliding down her body as he deepened the kiss, and Lucy angled her head back and wrapped her arms around his taut middle and thought,Yes.
Then a few seconds later a tinny blast of laughter came from the TV upstairs, and they both stilled. Lucy could feel her heart racing as Alex pulled away, raking a hand through his hair.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t . . . I just . . .”
She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Please, don’t be sorry about that.”
“I suppose . . . I suppose I got kind of carried away.”
“I didn’t know you had it in you, Alex,” Lucy couldn’t keep from teasing. “But I’m glad you do.”
He grinned, and then to her delight he pulled her to him and kissed her again. This one he kept sweet, but she still clutched handfuls of his T-shirt, her lips opening under his.
“Good night,” he whispered against her mouth, and she smiled against his lips.
She was still smiling as she slipped out the door and walked back to Tarn House.
