His hand was suddenly on my thigh. I froze, my breath catching as heat spread through me from that one slight touch. It sent a wave of longing crashing through me, making me want more of his touch. But I couldn’t. Not now, not here, and definitely not after the stunt he’d pulled this morning. Under normal circumstances, I would have gone inside the house the second I saw him and slammed the door in his face. Letting him talk to me at all was already being generous.
I shifted uncomfortably, breaking the spell. He got the message and pulled his hand back, looking almost apologetic. I exhaled, trying to get my body back under control. I couldn’t trust myself when he touched me. Chris quickly changed the mood.
“How was the rest of your day?”
“Normal,” I said, shrugging like none of this was affecting me. “How was yours?”
“Come on. I’m really trying here.”
I crossed my arms tighter, not ready to let him off the hook.
“What exactly are you trying to do? Pretend like this morning didn’t happen? Because I’m not doing that.”
“No.” The confidence drained from him in an instant. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”
“Correct,” I said flatly.
For a second, he almost smiled, but the regret on his face stayed front and center.
“It’s my default mode at this point,” he admitted. “I just… I thought you were going to leave before I woke up, and… I don’t take rejection particularly well.”
“Well, I can be an asshole sometimes too, but you were, like, apremium-classasshole. Your manager tried topay meafter we slept together like I was a hooker.” I kept my tone calm, even classy—well, as classy as I could manage while admitting that still made my blood boil.
“I know.” He winced like the memory physically hurt. “And I’m so, so sorry. Vanessa is… she’s a bitch. But in her head, she’s doing what’s best for me.”
I shook my head. “I can handle bitchy women, and it’s not like I need you to defend me. It’s just?—”
“I get it,” he interrupted gently. “It won’t happen again. I’ll do my best to keep my asshole tendencies at the lowest possible level.” He gave a small, self-deprecating smile. He moved, almost like he was going to reach for my hand, but then he stopped halfway, pulling back, probably remembering the way I flinched earlier.
I had two options: believe him, give this thing a chance, and see if the real Chris and the dream Chris actually had anything in common, or stop whatever this was right here, right now. The latter would save me from heartbreak, sure. But at what cost? Was I really okay with living the rest of mylife knowing that the man who haunted my dreams might’ve been more?
Before I could second-guess myself, I went for neutral.
“Work was insane. Had lunch with my grandma. Some guy filled my inbox with messages. Annoying,” I joked, forcing a smile. Guess I was giving this a try.
“What an asshole,” he quipped. “Did you tell your grandma you slept with a movie star?”
I smirked, glancing over at him. The way he could flip so easily from sensitive and regretful to big movie star energy was honestly stunning.
“I did,” I said. “She was excited until I told her your name, and then… she had no idea who you were. She thought I made the whole thing up.”
He clutched his chest dramatically like I’d stabbed him. I couldn’t help it—I laughed.
“I’ll have to introduce myself then.”
“Oh, she’ll love that,” I replied sarcastically. “She actually wanted me to invite you to lunch with us tomorrow.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted them.
Fuck. Why did I say that?
Chris’ eyes lit up, his grin widening as he leaned in. “And are you going to invite me?”
“Do you seriously want to have lunch with mygrandmother?”
“I would love to. Yes,” Chris said without a hint of hesitation. It threw me off balance.
A laugh escaped me. The thought of him and Nana in the same room was impossible to picture.
“Okay…” I muttered.
