Without thinking twice, I reach out and take her hand, easing it from her face. She frowns at me but doesn’t pull out of my grasp, letting me stroke her knuckles soothingly.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
I watch her hesitate behind the walls she’s shoved up in the last two seconds. Aubrey’s always suffered from the inability to put her trust in those around her when she knows that she’s fully capable of taking care of things herself. I put the blame on her parents a long, long time ago and have tried my best to prove to her that I actually like when she lets me do things for her. It’s still an ongoing challenge; I think it always will be. When there’s a woman as strong and self-assured as Aubrey around you, their independence is something you have to accept instead of being offended by.
“She knows this has no chance of going anywhere, and yes, she’s signed an NDA. I’ve got it handled,” I reassure her. “You know I wouldn’t risk causing any problems for you.”
Her pinkening throat bulges with a swallow. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I could have found someone else, but I want to do this quickly. We’re getting closer to the end date, and I’ve done shit all to help you.”
“Yes, you have. It’s me who’s making this complicated. I should just do the faking thing,” she says, the words heavy.
I squeeze her fingers, frustrated with myself. “No. You’re not doing that. It’s real or nothing at all.”
“And if I still can’t find anyone after all of this?”
“Then . . . I’ll make Spencer disappear.”
Her tired eyes crinkle at the corners. “Easy, killer.”
“Who said anything about murder?”
“When is the date, smartass?” she asks, resting her cheek on the back of the couch.
“I’m in Texas for four days come Monday. We could do tomorrow or when I get back.”
“It’ll take too long if we wait until you’re back. Tomorrow’s better.”
“You got it. I’ll finalize the plans in the morning.”
She tips her chin in agreement, and silence follows. It’s not awkward, but it does feel a bit heavier than usual. I know she’s inside her head, and that always has me on edge. I’d prefer to hear her thoughts than wonder about them.
When she speaks, it’s in a low, almost tight voice. “Is she the reason you’ve been so adamant about going to that specific coffee shop so often?”
“Is who?” I ask, feeling the slight pull from the fingers I’m still semi-consciously holding.
Aubrey huffs, almost looking embarrassed. “Your date. I doubt it’s the coffee keeping you such a loyal customer. It’s not any better than the shop a block over. So, is it the barista you’re crushing on?”
“You mean the woman who I had sign an NDA so she wouldn’t tell anyone about howunseriousI am about dating her?”
The question sounds as ridiculous coming out of my mouth as I feel asking it. Confusion bites at my brain as I tug her hand and force her to lean toward me, unable to escape. She frowns, letting me know what she’s going to say before she does.
“It’s a fair question. I’d hate to be the reason your chances were ruined with her.”
“Stop.” I interlock our fingers and replicate her position, resting my face against the couch. The red hue tinting her throat climbs upward, and I stare at it for a beat, considering whether she’s more tired than I assumed she was. “I’m not interested in her. If I were, I wouldn’t be using her in a dating experiment.”
It should be explanation enough, but for some reason, I can’t leave it at that, needing to make sure she understands just how little I care about this barista.
“I go to that place because it’s close and Beck’s got a fascination with the owner that he can’t seem to let go of. It hasnothing to do with the random barista who was up for signing an NDA and going out with me for no reason.”
She swallows again, eyes locked on mine. They linger, digging deep into the pits of mine as if she’s searching for the truth in my statements when I’m positive the words are already thick with it. Still, I let her stare, keeping the space between us open for her to counter my explanation.
But instead of doing that, she darts her eyes away and leans back a bit. “Beck has a what with who?”
The change of topic feels like a weight off my shoulders. With a chuckle, I release her hand and watch as she brings it to rest open palmed against her stomach. The air cools a few degrees, and I realize just how tense it had gotten just now.
