Unconditionally

by Erin Lyon

  “There you go,” he said, blowing out the match. Then he replaced the tray he’d pulled aside across the bottom of the oven. He reached up and turned on the knob for the oven, and things lit up and came to life. Adam has a way of making things come to life in his hands.

  “Come here,” he said.

  Huh? I must have looked confused, because he laughed.

  “Squat down for a second and I’ll show you where you light the pilot.”

  Ah. Of course. For educational purposes. Stupid educational purposes.

  I squatted down next to him. He was broad enough that I couldn’t get a view of the oven without our shoulders touching. And our arms. Legs. Not that I was cataloging or anything. He reached in to move the plate on the bottom of the oven, and when he did, I lost my balance and started to fall back.

  Adam reached over and grasped my upper arm to steady me and we ended up in a pseudoembrace. That did absolutely nothing for me. Promise.

  “Oops,” he said, steadying me. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.”

  Adam’s tutorial on where to look for the pilot light and how to light it were reduced to a sort of buzzing in my brain due to our proximity. I just tried to nod at the appropriate times so that it seemed like I was paying attention like a good little student.

  When he was done, he stood and reached down for my hand and pulled me back to standing. Standing way too close to him.

  I smiled and took a not-so-subtle step back. Well, it was either that or jump him. I took the high road.

  “Thank you so much,” I said with a smile. “Sorry you came over for something so minor. Guess I should know how to do that, huh?”

  He made a slight smile and looked at me a little too intently. “I really don’t mind. It’s good to see you. Since I apparently need an excuse now.”

  “Well, I appreciate it. Can I at least offer you dinner? Nothing special, but I was about to make some chicken.”

  He gave me a skeptical look.

  “What?” I asked. “I can totally cook chicken.”

  He chuckled. “I just wasn’t sure me staying for dinner would fit within Kate’s Rules of Conduct.”

  Well, that was definitely true. But didn’t showing gratitude to someone who helped you out trump your personal rules for self-preservation?

  I’m going with yes.

  I smiled. “I’ll make an exception, since you did me a favor.”

  “I accept, then.”

  “Glass of wine?” I asked, holding up my own glass for reference.

  “What are you drinking?”

  “No idea. I just grabbed the first bottle I saw and went with it,” I said, with a severe look and a raised eyebrow.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Hm. Wine roulette. Look at you, being all reckless and crazy,” he said.

  “Hey, I didn’t choose the thug life—the thug life chose me.”

  Adam burst into laughter, causing me to grin stupidly, which led us to stare at each other too long. Houston, we have a problem.

  He broke the tension for us by clearing his throat and saying, “Whatever you’re drinking will be fine.”

  “Good choice.”

  I put the chicken back into the oven and adjusted the temperature to 350 degrees. Then I grabbed the bottle of wine and poured a second glass and handed it to Adam.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Thank you,” I said, with a nod at my now-working oven. “So. How’s things at work?” Adam was a rock star marketing exec at a large advertising firm downtown called Samson and Tule.

  “Great.” He looked down at the table, smiling, and smoothed a napkin on the table. “I’m actually up for partner.”

  “Adam, that’s amazing!”

  “Thanks,” he said, grinning at me. He looked down at the table again, like he was shy—which would be a first for Adam Lucas. Around me, anyway. Then I realized … this was big to him. Not just that he was up for this promotion, but that he wanted to tell me about it. He wanted me to be proud of him for his accomplishment. This realization tied me up into one big butterfly-encrusted knot. So I just looked at him with a stupid expression for a minute, certain that my face was flushed. I wanted to grab his hand, but we sort of have a dangerous history with spontaneous physical contact.

  “When do you find out?” I asked.

  “Next couple of weeks.”

  “I’m sure you’ve got this. You kick ass over there.”

  “I don’t know. I’d be the youngest partner ever at the agency.”

  Screw the danger. I reached across the table and gripped his hand. “You deserve it. I’m sure your bosses think so, too.”

  He squeezed my hand. “Thank you, Kate. So, how’s your work going?”

  “It’s so amazing,” I said, doing my best Stepford wife impersonation, complete with wide eyes and a Xanax smile. “Turns out I was completely wrong to not want to go into signing law. I really think it’s my calling.”

  Adam clapped his hands softly a couple of times. “Are they giving out awards for sarcasm yet? ’Cause, I’m pretty sure you’re due.”

  “I’d like to thank the Academy…” I said, with a hand to my chest.

  He laughed and shook his head. “But,” he began, with emphasis, “it’s only been a couple weeks. You’re going to be so good at it that you may end up enjoying it by accident.”

  “I like your optimism, even if I don’t share it,” I said, tapping the edge of my glass to his.

  “How’s Logek doing?”

  I gave a one-lip-curl grimace. “Her archnemesis has returned and is attempting to woo her.”

  “Her archnemesis?”

  “Yes. The one man in Logek’s history who she completely lost herself in—right up to the point where he cheated on her and left her for another woman.”

  “Ouch. And now he wants another shot?”

  I nodded.

  Adam gave a little head shake. “It’s funny. People don’t picture women that look like you two having any man trouble. But somehow you manage to find your share.”

  I admit. I got a slight heart flutter when he lumped me in with “women like Logek,” since Logek fell into my definition of drop-dead gorgeous. “Well, in most of Logek’s man trouble, she’s the one making trouble. But there’s one guy that manages to repeatedly wrap her around his finger. And she’s been burned.”

  “Just one guy?”

  “They say everyone has one … that one person that you never get over … never get past. Your one big ‘what if’ in life.”

  He nodded at me, thoughtfully, in a way that gave me butterflies. “I get that. But if he’s the one burning her, maybe he’s not that one.”

  “That’s an awfully romantic sentiment for a self-declared cynic like you,” I said, smiling gently.

  “Good point. You’re a bad influence on me.”

  I laughed. “I doubt your mother would agree with that.”

  “True. My mother is an incurable romantic. Why do you think she sent me over here tonight?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Is she still trying to play matchmaker?”

  “Not openly, but I find her motives suspect.”

  My mouth hung open a little. “She saw Dave over here when I moved in and I figured she assumed we were a thing and had given up.”

  “Are you a thing?”

  That question hit me like a high-speed, sudden freeway exit, like when you’ve almost missed your turn. It took me a minute to shift gears.

  “Um. No. But he’s doing his best to complicate the hell out of it.”

  “How so?”

  Really? I’m going to talk about boys? With Adam? Well, sure. This makes perfect sense.

  “Uh. I…” Can’t really talk to you about this, apparently.

  “What?”

  “It’s just weird talking to you about this, Adam,” I said, frowning.

  “But we’re friends,” he said. “Regardless of how you’ve tried to complicate it.” When I hesitated, he adde
d, “Come on. Lay it on me.”

  I sighed. Over many, many things at that moment. “It’s just hard. He says he wants a relationship. At first I thought he was just playing his game, but now I’m not so sure. He may actually believe he has feelings for me.”

  “Not sure why that seems so far-fetched,” he said.

  “Because he is a player. Like a play-er.” Not sure why enunciating the syllables changed the meaning, but it made sense to me. “And he’s almost as damaged as…” Oops. And I may have trailed off before finishing my thought, but it wasn’t lost on Adam.

  “As me?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be, Kate. I know the score. But if my being damaged doesn’t bother you, then why does his?”

  “His just seems more … mean-spirited. Like, he’s got a little bit of a mean streak I catch a glimpse of now and then. You don’t have that. You may have all your hang-ups, but you’re never cruel. It would never even occur to you to be intentionally vindictive.”

  I was watching him intently, so he just shrugged. “Don’t underestimate me, Kate. I can be way vindictive.”

  I laughed. “Whatever. You’re a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

  He looked at me for a minute. “Pretty sure believing that is the last mistake the sheep ever made.”

  Then he seemed a little deep and broody. He believed he was the wolf.

  I retrieved the bottle of wine from the counter and refilled both our glasses with the second half of the bottle. “So, did you warn your mom about my uncle’s questionable intentions?” I asked.

  Adam chuckled and took a drink from his newly filled glass. “I told her that you found him to be inappropriate and a little sexist. She didn’t seem overly concerned by this discovery.”

  “Hm. Does your mom date much?”

  Adam looked down at his glass. I don’t think he cared for this part of the conversation. I wasn’t sure he’d answer, but then he looked up at me and shook his head. “I don’t think she ever got over my dad.”

  Oh. Well, if he’s anything like Adam, I guess I could understand that. And there’s probably a lesson to be learned about falling for a Lucas boy, losing him, and never getting over it. I’ll be sure to take that to heart. Since I’m oh-so-good at taking my own advice.

  “Kate,” Adam said quietly, leaning toward me a little.

  “Yes?” I asked, unconsciously mimicking his movements and leaning in a little as well.

  “I think you might be cremating the chicken.”

  Cremating the chicken. Cremating … Shit! I jumped out of my seat and went to the oven, which now had tendrils of smoke slipping elegantly from the door. I turned the oven to Off before opening the door and letting the cloud of smoke fill the tiny kitchen. Adam had gone and opened the door to the back porch and propped the door open. He came back and picked up a paper bag from the counter and began fanning the smoke out of the kitchen. I wondered if it would be enough to keep the smoke detector from going off.

  Why do I bother to ask myself these questions?

  The smoke detector immediately started blaring with alternate high and low tones, both equally annoying. I grabbed a bag and began trying to help Adam fan the smoke away from the alarm, but the damn thing wouldn’t turn off. Adam rushed back into the kitchen and began opening drawers until he found a couple oven mitts. After slipping them on, he grabbed the pan of chicken from the oven and took it out onto the back porch. And, for the most part, the smoke seemed to follow him. He set the pan down on the porch railing farthest from the door and came back inside. He was grinning at me when he grabbed his bag and, once again, began fanning the smoke toward the back door.

  I was smiling back at him because I knew I wasn’t going to hear the end of this from him and because this was the most fun I’d ever had giving my dinner a Viking funeral. In a moment, the room went silent. After minutes of the deafening alarm, the sudden quiet was equally deafening.

  Adam started laughing, and I joined him.

  “Okay, note to self,” he said, with a relaxed, happy expression. “Kate can’t cook.”

  “Kate can totally cook,” I replied. “Just not when she’s distracted, apparently.”

  He gestured toward the stairs. “Go. Get dressed. I’m taking you to a five-star restaurant for dinner.”

  We looked at each other a minute, and then I turned and headed upstairs. I threw on some jeans and my Converse (not the worn-out white ones—those went to Converse heaven after my spectacular fall) and put on my favorite plain white T-shirt with the V-neck that was a hint of sexy without trying too hard. I headed back downstairs and he chuckled when he saw me.

  “Will this do?” I asked, making a flourish with my hands.

  “You’re absolutely perfect.” He gripped my elbow lightly and guided me to the door.

  “Oh. Let me grab my purse.”

  “You won’t need it.”

  “Okay. How about at least my keys, so I can lock up.”

  “Fine. Hurry up. I’m hungry.”

  I dashed back to the kitchen table, grinning like a twelve-year-old. I grabbed my keys and started to reach for my phone. Nah.

  I followed him outside and locked my front door behind me.

  “Oh! Did you lock the back door?”

  “Yep,” he said, opening the passenger door of his black Audi for me. I slipped into the soft leather seats and couldn’t help but recall the last time I’d been in his car … the night he’d rescued me from the signing party and I’d spent the night on his sofa. Which was obviously the start of all of my Adam woes. And, right now, I couldn’t seem to mind. Woes, shmoes.

  He got into the driver’s seat and started off into the night. I didn’t ask where we were going. I can honestly say I didn’t care. Which for an overthinker like me was a pretty big deal.

  I turned my head a little and realized that I could smell smoke on my hair. “Uh-oh.”

  “What?”

  “My hair smells like dinner. I mean the dinner I killed.”

  “Don’t worry. Where we’re going, you won’t be able to smell anything else.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him but still didn’t ask. Still didn’t care.

  A few miles away, Adam pulled in to In-N-Out Burger and headed for the drive-through.

  “Drive-through, huh?”

  “Best food in town.”

  “No argument here. Glad I dressed appropriately.”

  “I told you you were perfect.”

  We smiled at each other.

  “My treat. Whatever your heart desires,” he added.

  No, Kate, he’s not offering that. Pretty sure he’s not on the menu. Damn. “Double-Double with fries, please. And a chocolate shake.”

  “I love a woman that doesn’t hold back,” he said with a chuckle. When he got to the speaker, he ordered the same thing, but with a vanilla shake.

  “You’re right—this will be perfect. I’ll smell like In-N-Out for days.”

  “Be sure to carry your mace,” he said. “You know how guys are when they smell In-N-Out Burger.”

  “Good point. Thanks for the reminder.”

  We got up to the window, he passed over some cash, and we were handed our bag of delicious-smelling hamburger-heaven goodness along with a couple of icy milkshakes. Adam knew how to show a girl a good time, that was for sure.

  I peeked inside the bag, out of habit. Two burgers, two fries. Gotta be sure not to get screwed at the drive-through.

  “So,” I said, rolling the top of the bag down to keep the food warm. “Are we eating at my place?”

  “Nope. I have something more scenic in mind.”

  Not to overdo it or anything, but the view in this car right now? Pretty damn scenic.

  We drove in silence for the next several minutes, until Adam turned down a quiet, dark road that dead-ended at a space along the river with a great view of the bridge.

  “Ooh, pretty,” I said with a smile.

  “I agree,” he said, smiling at me. He held out
a hand to me. Come on, give me a little credit. I knew he was just asking for his burger.

  I opened the bag and handed him his half of the order. We both chowed down and enjoyed the starlit view in silence.

  Adam took a napkin and swiped it across his mouth before talking. “I’m a little surprised my mom hasn’t called you yet to make sure we got your oven working.”

  “Oh. I didn’t bring my phone. Then again, she might not want to interrupt, in case we were in the middle of proclaiming sweet, sweet love for one another.”

  “Good point,” he chuckled in a low voice. “She’s probably thinking no news is good news.” Then he tipped his head a little at me. “So, no phone, huh? Aren’t you worried some of your adoring fans might be trying to get in touch with you tonight?”

  “They can wait till I get home. You’re my only adoring fan tonight.”

  “Works for me,” he said with a quiet laugh, and rested back against the headrest.

  I crumpled up the paper from my burger and put all the trash back into the bag. Took a quick swig of my milkshake and relaxed into the seat, watching the bridge.

  Adam reached over and took my hand in his, interlacing our fingers. “We’re not going to overthink this,” he said quietly.

  So I said nothing.

  “And we’re not going to ask what it means,” he added, turning his head to me. It was too dark in the car to see the green of his eyes, but his face was beautiful, nonetheless. His voice was low and a little husky. “Because I know we’re just friends. Or not friends. Or whatever the hell we’re supposed to be. But we’re here. And I don’t know how to sit here in this car with you, like this, and not hold your hand.”

  In response, I just gave his hand a light squeeze.

  He turned his eyes back toward the bridge. I tried to focus on the view, as well, but his thumb was tracing soft circles on the back of my hand and that was making it hard to think of anything else.