He sipped, taking his slow time answering. She tapped her fingers on the bar in a clear “hurry it up” gesture, and he still didn’t rush through his beer. “Funny you should ask that,” he drawled, a slow smile overtaking his face. “Since I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
Oh, thank God.
She tossed her rag on the bar and pulled up the walkthrough, making him laugh at her haste. “I’m officially off the clock.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s so.” She glanced back, remembering her purse. And that she hadn’t punched out. “Or I will be, in five minutes. Wait here,” she said, snatching her cards as she went.
He laughed again. “Waiting.”
Just in case his idea of a date meant she wouldn’t have time to go home and change, she switched her work T-shirt for a baby blue one she had in her locker and brushed her hair. She still reeked of alcohol, but a few dabs of her sultry perfume and she considered herself presentable.
Her left ankle inexplicably started twinging again as she walked back out to the bar. It hadn’t hurt in weeks. Weird.
He noticed her sudden limp and set aside his half-drunk beer. “You all right?”
“Old war injury.” At his laugh, she shrugged it off.
She was just nervous, and her body was already reacting to his nearness. She would’ve expected stomach fluttering or damp panties or even a stress headache, but she’d always been on the odd side.
“If you’re sure you’re okay.” He stood and threw some bills on the bar, and then offered her his arm. “Want to take my Jeep?”
She’d figured they’d take two cars, just in case. Which was probably silly. He’d been her friend for a long time. Whatever happened, she trusted him to get her home safely.
“Unless you’d rather not—”
“No, it’s fine. I’m just being dumb.” She smiled and tipped back her head to look at him. Since he was already looking down at her, she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Or walk.
Luckily she managed to grip his arm despite her mental fog, and he propelled her forward out the door into a soft, misty rain. “Caution isn’t dumb.”
“Maybe not, but we’re still friends. We don’t need to take separate cars.”
He stopped under a streetlight at the edge of the parking lot, seemingly oblivious to the water slicking down the sides of his face. She sure wasn’t oblivious, because she wanted to follow those twin trails down his jaw with her tongue.
Friends, remember? Very special friends.
“We both know I don’t think of you as just a friend, Kylie.” He tucked his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “I haven’t for a long time.”
That warmth was back in her chest, this time flashing into her face and all the points in between. “You’ve done a good job of being my friend this past month,” she said lightly.
“No, I haven’t. For the most part I’ve stayed away because I don’t know how to be near you and not kiss you.” He lowered his voice until it caressed her as thoroughly as if he was running his lips up her spine. “Not make love to you. In two days, you destroyed the conception of you I’d had all these years that had helped me keep my distance.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Well, that and your commitment ring.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Dare I ask what that whole conception thing means?”
“I thought we didn’t have as much in common behind the bedroom door as we did in front of it. Which was wrong. It’s also wrong I started this conversation in the damn rain.” Shaking his head, he guided her toward his Jeep. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Both her pulse and her brain raced in tandem. As much as she ached to be alone with him, she wasn’t sure she could keep from spilling her feelings if she sat near him in candlelight. Feelings that had skipped way past caring and honed in on love the instant she’d left his Jeep on Thanksgiving and realized what she was walking away from.
Maybe everything wasn’t perfect yet—dueling therapy appointments and all—but oh, the possibilities…
She could work with possibilities.
As they approached his vehicle, she placed her hand on his arm. “Why don’t we go to my apartment? I have a big steak and baked potatoes and champagne and—” His smile made her stop babbling. “Sorry. Kylie’s cup runneth over. You know.”
“Don’t apologize. I’ve missed you.” He jingled his keys and appeared to weigh something in his mind. Then he nodded. “Yeah. That sounds good. I made reservations just in case, but I think alone’s better. I wasn’t sure you’d want to with me yet.”
“Wait, what ‘want to’ are we talking about? Because if it resides in the same dirty zone where my mind just went, the answer is yes, forever and always. Don’t forget the rubber sheets.”
His smile turned into a full-blown laugh as he opened her door. “I meant being alone without any witnesses. But please don’t hold back your gutter thoughts on my account.”
She grinned and slipped inside the Jeep. All at once the familiar scent of his air freshener mixed with his soap wafted over her, and her eyes pricked with tears.
God, she’d missed him.
He got behind the wheel, and she gave him directions to her new place in nearby Crescent Cove. He remained silent while they climbed the steps to her third-floor walk-up apartment, and she had to temper her urge to fill the silence with chatter. Instead she bit her lower lip and led him through her modified studio. It had a living room, an alcove for her bed and dresser and nightstand, a galley-style kitchen, and a decent-sized bathroom. All the basics, no frills. But it was hers, and she was so proud of how far she’d come.
“Check out the huge closet.” She swept back her arm to reveal the space she’d crammed with clothes and other stuff she really needed to weed through someday. “Nice, huh?”
“Very.”
“And did you see the oven? Of course it’s not fancy like yours.” She rushed back into the kitchen, well aware that her mouth had yet again shot into overdrive.
Luckily he made the appropriate noises of appreciation and didn’t ask her why she was acting as if they’d just met rather than been…friends for years. Additional proof that the man could be too sweet for words.
“So I’ll, ah, make dinner now.” She pulled open the refrigerator door and started loading ingredients in her arms. “I can pop the champagne, and you can go watch TV if you’d like. Sorry, I only get the basic stations—”
“I’ll stay right here if you don’t mind.” He shed the jacket she realized she’d never offered to take and hung it off the back of a kitchen chair before sprawling across the seat. “So we can talk while you cook for me. Which is damn sexy, by the way, even if that sets me back twenty years for saying so.”
She couldn’t fight the flush she knew stained her cheeks. “I think we can give the women’s lib movement a break tonight. Besides, you’ve cooked for me. Deliciously, I might add. Don’t get your hopes up.” She wagged a finger. “I’m no whiz like you.”
His grin almost made her lose her grip on the bottle of champagne she’d just grabbed. “I think we’ll do just fine.”