“What came up?” I can’t help but ask, even though it’s none of my damn business.
He doesn’t like the question and his shoulders tense. “I told you when I signed up my volunteer times would have to be fluid due to my job.”
“Yes. Because you have games. But you don’t have a game tomorrow,” I remind him but judging by the way his jaw flexes, he hasn’t forgotten.
“I have a date, okay?” he barks out in a low growl of a whisper. It’s like a physical punch right to my solar plexus. I feel winded and when, a second later, I take a breath it feels like I’m filling my lungs with embarrassment, not oxygen.
I glance ahead. The group is already at the elevator still talking excitedly about the night they just had. Somehow we’ve fallen behind. Just him and I. I’m grateful because that means no one heard our exchange.
He sighs loudly. “Selena called to ask if it was okay if you held a raffle for the tickets that weren’t sold at the auction.”
Shit. I told her I would handle that. She must have thought she was doing me a favor by calling him for me. He frowns down at me. “You shouldn’t have refused to give the winner the prize.”
“I didn’t,” I reply. “I simply told her you weren’t part of the prize and she didn’t want it without you.”
“You need that five grand,” he reminds me. “I had Selena give me Ms. Cameron’s contact information and I am meeting her for a lunch date tomorrow. She’ll also be supplying me with the check and I will be giving her the hockey tickets.”
“Alex, I am not comfortable with—”
“I’m not comfortable with Daphne’s House losing much needed funding because you’re trying to protect my honor,” he cuts me off and his voice drops into a low, penetrating whisper. “I’m not one of your kids. I don’t need protecting and my honor has long since been lost so just relax. I’m doing this.”
He’s staring at me with this tortured look on his face, like he’s pained that he had to tell me his plans and convince me to let him do it. I’d love to chalk that up to his veracious need for privacy but it’s probably more about how I must be coming across like a schoolgirl with a crush. Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.
“Saturday it is. I’ll update the schedule. Good night.”
“Brie. Wait!”
I don’t wait. Mackenzie is looking at me quizzically as I usher her into the now open elevator with everyone else. “Wait!” she complains. “When will I see him again? Alex! When can we hang out?”
“He’ll be by the Daphne’s on Saturday. You can swing by and hang out. But you’ll have to take his Learn to Run class,” I tell her and she groans at the running part.
Alex says my name one more time just as the elevator doors close.
Two hours later, Mackenzie is in bed and I’m trying to convince myself that it’s not too late to open a bottle of wine. It’s almost eleven thirty and I have to be up by seven. I could have one glass, to take the edge of embarrassment off, but then I’ll want two and probably three. And then I’ll have trouble being a cheery foster parent in the morning. Mackenzie, I’ve learned since she started having to get up for school, is not a morning person—and at least one of us should be.
I’m staring longingly at my bottle of cabernet sauvignon when I hear a rapping sound. I turn from the wine rack to glance around the living room. I assume it’s Mackenzie, but as soon as I step out into the hall it happens again and I realize it’s coming from the front door.
I’m startled and a little fearful. No one I know would drop by this late without texting or calling me first. I force myself to inch over to the door, softly, like they might hear me, which they wouldn’t…whoever they are. I stick my eye up to the peephole. It’s dark and he’s hunched over but I would know that strong jaw and those eyes anywhere.
I crack open the door and our eyes connect and somehow residual embarrassment starts to flood my cheeks again. “You can see Mackenzie on Saturday. She’ll go to Daphne’s.”
“I came to talk to you.”
He reaches out and puts a hand flat against the middle of the door. He thinks I’m going to slam it in his face. I don’t. In fact, I let him step over the threshold and into my front hall. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
I look up at him through my lashes, with my head still tilted down, humiliation still refusing to let me have any pride in this situation. “You’re allowed to switch your volunteer day, and it’s not my business why. Is that why you’re here? I apologize for overstepping. It won’t happen again. Have a good night.”
He just stands there. He doesn’t move a inch, but somehow, he seems to take up more space in my narrow hall. His mood is darkening—intensifying—and that seems to be what’s taking up with space. He yanks a hand out of his pocket and scrubs his face with it. He opens his mouth, running his tongue along his full bottom lip, but then he doesn’t speak. Is he really going to make this even more uncomfortable for me?
“What do you want from me?” I blurt out, aggravated.
“I’m not going to sleep with that woman.” I look up at him and he’s staring with a look of intense discomfort on his ruggedly handsome face. He’s completely out of his comfort zone, being raw and honest with someone, but he’s forcing himself to do it. “Sex is just a way to have a good time. It’s not emotional or deep for me and trust me, I know that’s all this woman wants—a naked good time. I don’t have a problem with it, but you do and that matters to me.”
I don’t know how to react to that confession. I’m so confused by the emotions inside me it’s frustrating. I cross my arms angrily, but I also sigh in defeat. “If it’s what you want to do, just do it. I don’t want to stop you from being you. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to fuck someone to get money for my charity.”
I didn’t mean to be so crass but I guess I’m just feeling as raw and emotional as he is and I’m sick of not showing it. He tilts his head slightly to the side, like he’s trying to decipher something and then he says in that same low, penetrating voice he used earlier at the arena. “I don’t want to fuck her. And it’s because of you, but not just because I don’t want to upset you. It’s because I like the way you look at me lately and I like the way it feels when I look at you and when we talk and I don’t want to lose that.”
Those dark blue eyes that always seem to be swirling with some unexpressed emotion are as tumultuous as ever. Looking into them as he scans my face is like staring into the eye of a tornado. I don’t feel unsafe, but I feel uncertain. I have no idea what’s going to happen next. And of all the thoughts running through my head at lightning speed, not one of them was the idea that he would step closer, standing so close that our bodies touched. But that’s what he does.
