Hope turned fully toward Ivy. “This is perfect. He’s home.” She pulled out her phone and checked the time. “And it’s not even ten. Which means the date sucked.”
“That’s ridiculous. It’s Monday night, so of course the date ended early. He teaches at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow. He’s not going to stay out for all hours.”
“If it was a good date, he would have,” Hope whispered. “Ivy, this is your chance!” Hope’s eyes were nearly bugging out of her head with excitement.
“My chance to what?” Ivy asked, because there was no way her friend could actually be thinking what she thought she was thinking.
“To ask him,” Hope hissed.
“No,” Ivy said matter-of-factly. No way, no how. She needed to formulate a plan first. She couldn’t simply go up to Sean without a script and ask him to—
“Ask me what?” came the delicious baritone that Ivy could pick out from a room of a thousand voices. It was coming from right over Hope’s shoulder.
Oh shit.
Hope jerked to full height and turned abruptly to face him. Oh dear God, he was right there. Only Hope’s tall, willowy body separated Ivy from total humiliation.
CHAPTERFOUR
There was no doubt that Hope was a striking woman. Especially when she was standing directly in front of a man with a smile spread across her perfectly tinted lips in a manner that suggested he was exactly the person she wanted to see. But Sean wasn’t interested in Hope, never had been, and not because his best friend had put a ring on it not so long ago. Sean wasn’t interested in Hope, or any other woman, including sweet Callie from this evening’s date, because he was only interested in the fiery, deeply complex pixie of a woman with haunted blue eyes.
Eyes that were looking up at him from over Hope’s shoulder this very minute. And they looked worried. Maybe even a little panicked.
Interesting.
“Ask me what?” he repeated when neither woman made a move to respond.
They continued to stare at him like two deer caught in headlights.
Hope came to first, fully opening the door as she stepped into the hallway to join him. “Oh, you know.” She waved her hand flippantly. “We were discussing things and your name came up. Nothing important, really.” She cleared her throat and amped up her smile another watt or two. “Well, I should go.” She moved to pass Sean, and he retreated a step to let her. “I’m going to pop down to the bar and see if I can sneak a goodnight kiss from my husband before I head home.” She looked from Sean to Ivy, then back to Sean. “You two enjoy the rest of your night.”
Sean thought he saw her shoot a glare in Ivy’s direction before heading to the door at the end of the hallway that led down to Bowie’s.
He turned to Ivy, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction Hope had disappeared. “What’s up with her?”
Leaning against the door to keep it open, Ivy lifted her free shoulder. “Oh, the usual. Meddling. Interfering. Dictating.” She seemed to have recovered from her earlier discomfort. “So, how was your date?”
Sean shrugged. It’d been okay. Donovan’s sister, Callie, was a nice girl. She was a bit reserved at first, but once he got her going on a topic she was excited about—her love for nineties horror movies—he found her to be quite chatty. She had been cute, too, with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and round hips that swayed when she walked. They’d shared a meal, then gone for a stroll along the river. The night had even ended with a pleasant hug and a friendly kiss on the cheek. Overall, a fine date. But he and Callie had both communicated in one way or the other that there wouldn’t be another one. She had emphasized that she was busy with work projects, and he simply hadn’t offered to call her sometime. He was confident they both knew where they stood.
To Sean’s mind, if the feeling wasn’t there—the spark, the chemistry, the interest, whatever you want to call it—then there was no point dragging out another date.
He wasn’t opposed to the occasional casual fling with a willing woman, but at thirty-two years of age, he wasn’t interested in a relationship he knew from the get-go wasn’t going anywhere, it wasn’t worth it. And luckily, Callie had come to the same conclusion.
“That shrug doesn’t tell me much.” A hint of irritation flared in Ivy’s eyes. She stepped forward, letting the door shut behind her. Coming almost toe to toe.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” he returned. Sometimes, pushing her buttons was too irresistible and riling her was too damn easy. He’d expected an eyeroll, maybe even a shove in the shoulder, or some sort of verbal insult. What he hadn’t expected was her piercing look of hurt.
“You kissed her?” she whispered, taking a step back so that her spine was against the closed door. For a moment, she looked utterly betrayed, although the twist of her lips told him, she was clearly fighting to hide it. Ivy was not the kind of woman who let her weaknesses show often. Or ever.
Unable to help himself, he sighed. He couldn’t figure her out, and he was getting so tired of trying. He wanted clarity, for both of their sakes.
“Ivy, what is going on?” When she stared up at him silently, he added, “With us.” He took a tentative step toward her.
She eyed him warily, so he stopped his approach. Still, he was close enough that the heat coming off her body warmed him, close enough that the scent of her invaded his air space.
“This.” He waggled a finger between them. “This thing that we have going on. What is it? Are we just friends? Are we working toward something more? Tell me, Ivy, because it’s messing with me, not knowing where we stand and what you want.”
He didn’t know what she’d say to that, was pretty damned shocked he’d even said it. It was the first time either of them had acknowledged the elephant in the room. As the silence stretched between them, his heart hammered in his chest. Would she play it off and pretend she didn’t hear him? Turn around and slam the door in his face?
