“You only talk to women who are your publicist or from the team she told me,” I list.
Vaughn shakes his head. “Wishful thinking on her part.”
“I was never to call you again.”
“Jesus, that sounds like her… wait, you called me? Why?” The corner of his mouth snags up, and he seems pleased with that news.
Tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear, I bite my lip. I can do this. “I can imagine you have to get on a plane with your team soon.” I’m stalling.
He tips his head down, then back up to capture my gaze. “Actually no, we’re about to go on a three-day break for the holidays, and I’m going to see my brother in the city tomorrow morning.”
“Oh?” My voice rises on octave.
Vaughn licks his lips and his dimples shine, creating the illusion of a sweltering look of trouble. “We were kind of adamant about leaving things the way they were, so I’m not going to tell you my room at the Dizzy Duck is number 107.” The mischief in his voice while his gaze pierces straight through me is almost too much, I’m forgetting my mission.
I need to stay on track, not lose my panties.
Tightly, I smile, soaking in the fact that we had a classic miscommunication mix-up, and he just gave the sign that he would bend our promise a little. Honored as I am, sex is really the last thing that should be occupying my brain… yet it’s crossing my mind.
Flicking my eyes up, attempting to ground my feet and stay strong, I shoot out an alternative. “Maybe a coffee or something… I don’t mean that kind of something, not that I have complaints, it’s just we could chat.” Holy hell, I’m rambling.
I must look like a confused squirrel who really could nibble on him right about now.
Yet, Vaughn’s eyes burn me with a type of affection that could be my misfortune. “Sure. Send me a text of where to meet you.”
Our eyes are trapped in a holdout for a few seconds, but then I offer him a half-smile and walk away.
* * *
Waiting in Jolly Joe’s,the soda-shop-styled diner, with my tea mug in one hand, I scroll through my phone to admire the ultrasound photos. It never gets old, that feeling of astonishment.
That’s what I will do, tell Vaughn, then show him my phone as proof.
It’s not a cute announcement, but we’re not a couple. We’re two people who accidentally made a child.
The door opens, and Vaughn gives me a nod. He’s now in jeans and a winter coat that he takes off to hang on the coatrack while he stomps his boots on the mat.
I laugh to myself as he approaches me with a stride that everyone calls swagger, complete with a suave smirk that oozes coolness, and my biggest fear comes alive when I notice that determination burns in his eyes. For what? I can only imagine, as I’m smart.
Vaughn slides into the booth seat across from me. “Welcome to Midwest winter. I would say I hope you can handle it, but your job is literally on ice,” I joke.
He rubs his hands together for warmth. “True. Were you waiting long?”
“Not at all.” My eyes dip down to my tea that I’ve barely touched, as I’m doing my best to cut caffeine for the pregnancy. Drawing a line back up to Vaughn who is now studying the menu, I take a deep breath. “Sorry about your loss, the game. I didn’t get a chance to tell you since we got occupied trying to figure out the mystery of why I wanted to kill you.”
He raises his brows entertained. “You wanted to kill me?”
“I thought you were not being a gentleman.”
“I’m always a gentleman. Your body should know that.”
Crap, did Jolly Joe’s crank up the radiator? Because I’m refusing to believe that my body warms due to Vaughn’s ability to make me weak and the fact that our banter just flows.
Snap out of it, Isla.
“Uhm, maybe we can keep this coffee… I don’t know, as friends?”
A shade of disappointment is hinted on his face, and he eases his attempt to flirt. “Sure. What do you recommend?”
