She shrug dramatically. “She seems nice.” Then her gaze darted around again. “I heard her last night. Um, in the hall.” Her gorgeous crystal-blues dropped to the floor. “Sounds like you two had a great time.”
Shit. Guilt tugged at his heart. Fun was over. He nudged her chin up with his finger until she met his gaze. “Tina is an old friend. I ran into her in the bar last night, we had a couple beers, talked for a bit, then I ordered her an Uber when things wound down. She followed me up to my apartment, where I let her wait—in the hallway—until the car arrived to pick her up.” Fuck, he’d never needed to explain himself to a woman the way he did to Ivy.
She held eye contact as if she was reading him for honesty. Then she blinked, and all of her apprehension vanished.
She smiled, a bit shyly. “They were good cookies. I grabbed one off the plate in your office.”
Sean smiled, relieved that she trusted him so freely now, because he knew it didn’t come easily for her. He’d worked years to earn that trust. If it was all he’d ever get from her, it was worth it.
“They were pretty damn good. Might call her a ride more often.” This earned him a hard shove in his shoulder. He rolled with it, chuckling.
“Hey, you want to come over tonight for takeout and True Detective?” She asked.
Monday night crime shows were their weekly tradition. He brought the pizza. She got the tub of ice cream and two spoons. He was about to say yes—wantedto say yes, had the word on the tip of his tongue—when he remembered he had a date. A real, official date. One he’d been hoping to avoid telling her about because it was meaningless, but he’d gotten himself roped into it regardless. It was a blind date. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on one of those, if ever. But he’d be on one tonight.
He was taking out the sister of one of his master coaches, and honestly, he still couldn’t fucking believe how it happened—out of his best intentions.
Donovan Saunders was one of his best trainers, but in the last couple of months he’d been slacking on his own training. Not quite lazy, but not pushing himself as hard as Sean expected from his elite staff. When Donovan had asked him one afternoon if Sean would take his sister out, Sean had thought that it might be the motivation Donovan needed to push his ass a little harder. So he’d laughed and said, “Sure, if you knock me down I will.”
He’d hoped it would spur Donovan on, motivate him to put in the effort it took to take on someone like Sean in the ring. He hadn’t expected the bastard to take him down in the third round.
Donovan had promised it would be a one-night thing saying, “She never gets out, man. It’s not healthy. You don’t need to put a ring on it, just get her out of the house. That’s all.” And Sean had given his word, so he was going to follow through on it.
He’d set the date for tonight, figuring a Monday would be less pressure on everyone. And he’d convinced himself that there was no reason he shouldn’t date. It might even be good for him. Get him out of this weird thing that he’d gotten himself into with Ivy.
Looking at her now, thinking about how nice an evening with her on the couch eating takeout and watching bad TV would be, he regretted the whole thing all over again.
“I can’t,” he finally managed. “I’ve got—” Shit, why was this hard? He wasn’t being a dick because he and Ivy weren’t a thing. He took a breath and went for it. “I made other plans for tonight.”
“Plans? Like a date?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. Vaguely accusing.
A surge of defensiveness filled him. Did she think he’d always be ready and available? That he didn’t have a life of his own? Damn, is this what it had come to? He scrubbed a hand over his head and down the back of his neck. Maybe this date was the best thing for both of them.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “A date.”
Disappointment swamped her eyes. As quickly as it came, it was gone.
“Of course. No problem.” She made a show of looking at her wristwatch. “Well, I’ve gotta go. Dylan will be here any second. I’ll see you around.” She turned on her heel and strode back to her physio clinic.
Sean dropped his head between his shoulders. This was so fucked up. He couldn’t keep going down this road. He needed to stop the game they were playing. Either he had to come clean with his feelings for her, consequences and high likelihood of being rejected, be damned. Or he needed to live his life, put himself out there, find a healthy relationship, and forget this mind-boggling adoration and lust he had for Ivy Harrington.
Obviously, there was really only one choice.
CHAPTERTHREE
It was almost eight in the evening. Half empty boxes of Asian noodles were littered around her, and a bottle of Pinot Grigio sat on the coffee table. Her best girlfriend, Hope Morgan, was sunk into the cushions of the couch beside her as they watched the newest season ofThe Bachelorette. Despite all this goodness in her current radius, Ivy still couldn’t drag herself out of the doldrums.
She sat cross-legged on the couch in her favorite leggings and oversized sweater, staring at the TV, same as she had for the last forty-five minutes, and she couldn’t have answered a single question about the episode. Her mind was in another world. A world where Sean’s ‘other plans’ included a beautiful, sexy, confident woman who had her shit together—and could give him everything he wanted and deserved. Like fun, adventure, and orgasms. Probably lots and lots of orgasms.
“Okay, that is the third time in the last half hour you’ve moaned and hit your head against the sofa,” Hope said. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to guess?”
Hope and Ivy had been friends since their college roommate days. They’d been through the best and worst of it together, and Ivy knew she could count on Hope for anything. She had proven herself time and time again—always being there for Ivy and keeping her secrets, even when it almost cost Hope a chance at her own happiness.
Ivy didn’t want to bother her with her pathetic insecurities now. Hope was a newlywed, a new stepmother, had a whole life that demanded her attention. It wasn’t fair that Ivy emo dump all over Hope anymore.
“It’s nothing,” Ivy mumbled, stuffing cold noodles into her mouth.
“Right,” drawled Hope, grabbing the TV remote and turning down the volume by several notches. “Look, I love fake boy drama as much as the next girl, but I think I speak for women everywhere when I say I preferrealboy drama more.”
