Page 26
“And okay, it wasn’t the best date. It was far from the worst I’ve ever had though. What you have to remember is, that I have dates that run off—”
He had a point there. It made me feel slightly better.
“—And we’ll do better next time. Perhaps, we could stick to just the two of us. That seemed to work better.”
I lifted my head, trying to play it cool. “So…there will be a next time?”
He winked. “Definitely.”
I breathed an audible sigh of relief, which made his smile grow even wider. Somehow, I’d managed not to mess up the best thing that had happened to me in ages. The fact he’d hung around for the whole shitty evening, supporting both me and Georgia, showed what an incredible man he was. Something suddenly occurred to me, something I’d been dying to ask ever since we’d left the first bar. But in the chaos of looking after Georgia, I just hadn’t had a chance. “By the way, what did you say to Simon on the way out of the bar? He looked like he was going to have a coronary.”
Justin gave a small huff of laughter at the memory. “I told him I got the burns in the army, where I graduated top of my class in hand-to-hand combat. And if he ever upset you or Georgia again, or thought he could call me any more names, then I’d be practicing my skills on him.”
“Did you?”
“What?”
“Graduate first in hand-to-hand combat.”
He snorted. “Of course not. They didn’t give out placings. But, he doesn’t need to know that.”
I laughed. For a man I’d only been on three dates with and still didn’t know that well, it felt remarkably normal to have him in my house. I waved a lazy hand around the living room, suddenly seeing it from his point of view. “Sorry about the place. I know it’s not the best.” Both Georgia and I kept talking about giving the walls a new coat of paint. Lord knew they needed it. Maybe even getting around to removing the peeling wallpaper that covered one wall. So far, it hadn’t gone past talk. The only picture on the wall showed a country house by the river. I had no idea whether it was a real house or just a figment of the artist’s imagination—whoever the artist was. I’d never bothered to examine the squiggle in the bottom right-hand corner. The restaurant had thrown it out the last time they’d refurbished. I’d decided to give it a new home. As for the sofa, it had been secondhand. We didn’t realize until we’d gotten it home, that it had a major case of sagging in the middle. It was fairly comfortable as long as you didn’t mind gradually moving closer to anyone else sitting there. Even now, I could see Justin listing slightly to one side, fighting the pull of gravity moving him slowly toward me. On second thought, maybe the sofa did have some advantages.
Justin had followed my gaze around the living room. “It’s fine. You should…see…”
He suddenly trailed off and I had to prompt him. “I should see what?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just going to say I don’t exactly live in a palace. It’s fine.” He flashed a quick smile, but it came across as more of an effort to hide his true feelings than a genuine sign of happiness. “I’m not judging you on where you live. I’m not that shallow.”
Something had gone awry in this conversation and I had no idea why. “Where do you live?”
He looked away, his gaze fixed on the painting. “Erm…a few streets away from the restaurant where you work. That’s why I eat there sometimes. You know it’s close.”
I was eager to find out more about him. “House, apartment?”
“House.”
It was like trying to get blood from a stone. I wondered why he was being so cagey. “Is it your house? Or do you rent?”
His gaze moved back to mine, but it only stayed there for a fleeting second before moving away again. “It’s mine. I inherited it from an aunt.”
“Is it—”
He stood suddenly, already moving toward the kitchen. “Do you mind if I get a drink?”
“No. Of course not.”
Confused by his sudden exodus from the living room mid-conversation, I remained seated for a few moments before eventually standing and following him. He’d filled a glass from the tap and was hunched over the sink, looking like he had the weight of the whole world on his shoulders.
“I can get you something better than water if you want? Tea, coffee, something stronger? There’s probably some fruit juice in the fridge. Georgia usually has some. She won’t mind.”
He gave a slight jump at the sound of my voice, quickly drawing himself back to his full height before turning. He held the glass up. “Water’s fine.”
“Did I say something wrong?” I could have kicked myself as soon as the question came out. I couldn’t have sounded more pathetic or needy if I’d tried. I wanted this man to lust after me, not feel sorry for me.
Justin placed the half-empty glass on the kitchen table before crossing the floor in a couple of strides to stand directly in front of me. “Not at all. No. God! I don’t want you thinking that. It’s just…” He paused to run his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to ruin things between us.”
I took a step back, confusion growing. “Why would you ruin things? I’m the one that dragged you out to get insulted and watch my friend have an emotional meltdown. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, I left you on your own for ages. If anyone’s ruining anything, it’s me. I—” My next words were cut off when Justin’s lips descended on mine. As a means of shutting me up, it proved very successful. That was nothing like the kiss from either of our first two dates: they’d been cautious and exploratory. That perfect blend of two people trying to get to know each other but being careful not to push it too far.
