by Kelly Moran
Brent dropped his arm, slouching. “Good point.” He re-straightened, perking right back up. “I bet she just went ahead to Le Italy to meet you.”
After going to Jason’s first? And if she had stopped by to pick him up, why hadn’t she knocked? Plus, the restaurant was a good hike from here if she hadn’t taken her car, which made zero sense. “Do you have a key to her place?”
They shook their heads, but Miles answered. “We would have heard her come back. She’s not home.”
Jason could attest to the poor sound quality of the hallways in their units. He’d been woken many times by other tenants.
Something felt very wrong as concern pounded his temples. What the actual hell? Where was she?
“Shoot me a text if you guys run into her, would you?” He gave his number to them and waved over his shoulder on the way down the stairs.
For grins and giggles, he walked across the street and into his apartment just in case. No Ella, so he got in his truck and drove to Le Italy. Along the way, he didn’t spot her walking, nor was she inside the over-crowded restaurant. He wasted ten minutes politely brushing off patrons in order to leave to hunt for her as his concern bled into the edges of dread.
She was on foot. Ergo, she couldn’t have gone far. She hadn’t texted to cancel. Brent and Miles had helped her get ready and they’d claimed to see her go into Jason’s building. As of an hour ago, she’d been gung-ho to see him tonight. What had happened between then and now to have her pull an escape routine?
Panic tightened his chest as he parked in his complex’s lot and cut the engine. Dusk had faded to dark and stars winked overhead. He climbed out and leaned against the hood. A salty breeze from the Pacific did little to chase away some of the humidity clinging from daylight. Crickets chirped and fireflies blinked while he wracked his brain trying to figure out this mystery.
He was starting to lose his marbles and thinking perhaps she had been kidnapped. It was possible she’d just gone out and done something else, but they’d had plans. She didn’t seem the type to just blow someone off without notice.
Heaving a sigh, he glanced at her complex, at the others lining the private road, at the edges of the park barely seen from behind the structures…
He frowned and shoved off the truck. It was an odd place for her to be, but it wouldn’t hurt to check the park. It was close and he didn’t have any other brilliant ideas.
He strode across the street and made his way around to a walking path. He hadn’t been in this area in awhile, but if memory served, the trails and grounds were extensive off to the right. The town often had events on site for holidays and summer gatherings. He played baseball in summer for the Rec team, too. The actual entrance to the park was off Main Street clear on the other side of the cliff edge. To the left was a playground where…
Ella sat on a lone swing. Thank Almighty.
It was a good block’s distance between them, but he could scarcely make out a red dress and the figure of a woman in the orange-ish glow of a lamppost. He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as worry unfurled its fingers from his chest.
Instinct and curiosity pulled him forward. Like a part of him recognized a part of her, he walked toward her. The closer he got, the harder his pulse jacked in his neck. She had her hair up in a sleek knot that was unlike her usual style and yet complimented her cherubic face. A strapless dress hugged her chest and waist, the hem ghosting the ground and hiding her feet. Slender fingers were folded neatly in her lap, her head down so all he got was a peek of her profile.
He paused, pulling his phone from his pocket. He had no idea what possessed him to do it, but he snapped a picture of her. Trees were a blur in the background, green foliage to contrast the black sky and deep red of her dress. The glow from the lampposts and stars enhanced her bronze skin tone.
It was the kind of shot a literary great could’ve written stories about for ages. Since he’d never be one of those, he studied the image, mesmerized by her. He could only guess as to why. She was just a woman, sitting on a swing alone at night, expression indicating she was deep in thought or desperately sad. But, damn. She wasn’t fictional. He happened to know this woman. There was something about her in particular that roused something inside him.
A niggling on his nape.
A flutter behind his ribs.
A clamp around his airway.
It had happened each time he’d talked to her, encountered her, but it was growing instead of receding. Interest in a female was nothing new to him. He chronically chased that first stirring of attraction, a high that never lasted. Thing was, attracted or not, he’d always been able to walk away. He and Ella hadn’t been intimate, he had no intention of doing so, and yet the sensation was still present with no signs of fading. History proved it would.
Which made her an anomaly.
He pocketed his phone and looked up to find her staring at him. Solemn. Quiet. So unlike her that worry began making a comeback for the win.
Erasing the distance, he came to a stop in front of her. “You, Ella Sinclair, are the first girl ever to stand me up. Really don’t care for the feeling it left me.”
Blink, blink.
Silence.
“You got all dressed up—and, by the way, you look beautiful—only to sit in the park by yourself?”
Blink, blink.
Silence.
“I went by your apartment. I texted you. I went to Le Italy looking for you. I was worried.”
Blink, blink.
Silence.
She was freaking him out. “Did you fall, hit your head, and get amnesia? Did I misunderstand our plans or overlook the breadcrumbs you dropped to change those plans?”
Blink, blink…
Oh, screw this.
He squatted in front of her, holding the cool chain links of the swing in case she got any wild ideas to flee. Studying her, his gut clenched. Her eyes were red. No raccoon marks from makeup, and definitely not an allergy reaction, but it looked like she’d been crying.
Crap. What had upset her?
“Know what I like about you?” He tilted his head when she merely watched him with that deadpan, somber expression which told him zilch and somehow had guilt churning his gut. “You wear your mind on your sleeve. Not your heart. That cliché fits so very many people. Not you, Ella. You wear your mind on your sleeve. You say what’s in your head and don’t hold back, no matter how embarrassing. Honesty is a rare trait these days.” He held her gaze, hoping to glean some insight, and came up wanting. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Eons passed, her staring at him, before she finally, blessedly deigned to speak. “Honesty is rare. I don’t like being lied to.”
Damn. Perhaps silence was better. “I’ve never lied to you.”
A spark of anger lit her eyes, and if he weren’t so confused, he might’ve found it sexy. Never mind. It was hot as hell.
“Judging by your expression, you feel differently.”
She looked away, jaw tight, lips pursed.
Gently, he crooked a finger under her chin and drew her gaze back. Red or not, she had amazing eyes. “I’m not a mind reader, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart. Especially not when you’re in a relationship with someone else.”
Funny, he typically didn’t use pet names or monikers. He hadn’t realized he’d done it with her. And, hells yeah. Her all riled up? Sexiest thing on this earth. All that carbonation bottled and ready to blow. She…
Wait. “I’m not in a relationship with anyone right now.” He was allergic to those, actually.
She bared her teeth, and he nearly kissed her unconscious.
“More lies. I saw you and Paige together at your apartment.”
Paige. As in, Paige Maloney?
He laughed before discovering that was the complete wrong thing to do at this second. “I am absolutely, unequivocally not in a relationship her. That would be the closest thing to incest one could get without actually being related.”
“You called her the love of your life.”
Oh. That. “Been doing it since she was fifteen and developed breasts, and I was a horny sixteen-year-old wanting to get a rise out of Parker. It kind of stuck. Doesn’t mean what you think it does. She came over with one of his ties for me since I have no clue what I’ve done with the couple I own.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “She called you hot stuff.”
“A joking term she created when I became a firefighter.”
“Oh.” Her posture deflated, only to return to rigor mortis a beat later. “That still doesn’t excuse the fact that you lied about tonight. I gave you an out, and you told me you wanted to go.”
He raised his brows and gestured at his attire. “Here I am. Note the gray slacks, white button-down, and aforementioned green paisley tie. I’m in accordance with the formal dress code. By the way, male and paisley should never be put in the same sentence. My man card has been suspended. I’m more of a jeans and tee sort of guy. Nevertheless, I came to pick you up, and instead chased you all over town.”
She inhaled. Hard. “You told her you wanted to get it over with, that this was the last thing you wanted to do on a Saturday night.”
Just how long had she been standing outside his door? “Yep, I did say that. If I recall, so did you. Both of us were obligated and neither wanted to attend. If I’m going on a date, I prefer casual and laid back to being in a Petri Dish under the Ridge’s microscope.”
“You should have taken the out when I gave you the chance.”
Probably. He wouldn’t have gotten to see her feisty side or her in knockout gear, though. Seriously, that dress was a ten on a scale of one to swallow-his-tongue. Appearances aside, it would look better on his bedroom floor.
“I mean, I’d rather spend time with someone who wants to spend time with me, not because he feels like he has to or out of obligation.” She leaned forward the slightest bit, her mad obviously not yet back in its box. “You said you wanted to be friends. I may not have many of those, but I’m pretty sure they don’t gripe about being together. Not that we’re together, but we were supposed to be. As friends. And…” She huffed. “Why are you grinning?”
“You’re back, that’s why. I like your rambling side much better than the mute one.”
“Well, I can’t help it. My mouth starts moving and it won’t stop. I’ve tried everything, but it’s incurable.”
“I have a cure.”
“Very funny. You make me nervous. I babble when I’m nervous. Then words tumble out at a rapid pace without grammatical must-haves like sentence structure or punctuation points and—”
He crashed his lips to hers. There. See? Cured.
Except he wasn’t supposed to be doing this with her. Not kissing or blurring the lines or leading her on. There were a thousand and twenty-nine reasons why and…
Shit. They all escaped him. He couldn’t think of a solitary excuse for stopping. Surely, he could conjure one out of the recesses of his mind as a means to get a grip, to abort. But, nope. Nuh uh. She smelled like gingerbread and he wanted to bite.
Her uneven exhale fanned his jaw, and he was toast. He cupped the side of her neck, his thumb stroking her petal-soft cheek, and he said buh-bye to reason.
Tilting his head, he brushed his lips against hers. A tease. A taunt. He wasn’t sure if the act was for him or her, but hell if it mattered. She made the most erotic little noise, part surprise, part hum of pleasure, and every inch of skin covering his body tightened in response. He added pressure and got nothing but give in return. Pliant, warm, she just…accepted. Submitted.
Because he had to or curiosity would kill him, he nibbled her lower lip. She opened on impact and he dove in. Drowned. Never wanted to resurface. She may smell like gingerbread, but she tasted like cinnamon. Her tongue darted, grazing his as if testing the waters. He stroked his against hers, his fingertips digging into her neck to draw her closer. Liquid heat built in his gut, spread until it infused every cell and he had to fight to breathe. He brought his other hand up and held her face, keeping her to him.
She seemed hesitant, unsure, almost as if out of practice, but she followed his lead and he explored. She was as much a mystery as the shows she liked to watch. He suddenly needed to solve her. And uncover the reason behind why he couldn’t, despite good intentions, keep himself on his side of the chalk line.
Attraction was his bedfellow. Acting on that attraction, his motto. In his experience, most women used their looks or bodies to start the chain reaction in the game of love. By the time they’d gotten to the intimacy part, he was already halfway out the door. Bored. Seeking something else. Perhaps that was the difference with Ella. She didn’t hunt him. She behaved more like the prey. He couldn’t remember the last time he had to chase someone.
Nope. He didn’t have one foot out the door here with her. He had one already in and the other standing on a banana peel. He should be afraid. Very afraid. Why wasn’t he, then? Because he liked risks? The rush? She was dangerous.
Yes. That had to be it. He just had to roll with it, get his high, and be done.
Except, that would make him a selfish bastard. Using her or toying with her emotions was a low he’d never sunk to before. All his previous engagements had known exactly what they were getting into prior to him going forward. He didn’t break hearts. He never engaged his in the first place.
She placed a hand on his chest, right over the organ he’d cut off blood supply to long ago, and something about the move stirred him. Sweet. Hesitant. Claiming.
He eased away, severing the kiss, and struggled for oxygen. Since it was hard to come by, he rested his brow to hers and looked at her through the dots spotting his peripheral.
Nice, she’d kissed him blind.
Her lashes fluttered, lifted, and golden brown eyes locked onto his in the millimeter space between them. Lazy seduction filled their depths and blew her pupils. Her throat worked a delicate swallow. “Why did you do that?”
A whisper. A plea. And buried in baffled hope.
Since he had no clue, he went with flat out honesty, minus censorship. “I don’t know.”
“Duct tape works just as well.”
He reared, still holding her face. Her expression offered nothing. “What?”
The smallest of smiles curved her lips. “To shut me up. Duct tape is effective, not that I’m complaining about your cure.”
He paused, and the moment her words sank in, he sank right with them. Grass stains be damned, he plopped on his ass, spread his legs out before him, and laughed.
She placed her feet on either side of his knees, her smile slipping. “Friends don’t normally kiss.”
Not like that, they didn’t. He was still trying to get his pulse to recover.
“I suppose not.” He knew she was fishing for an explanation, but since he was unsure if he was the one holding the pole or if he was the bait, he kept mum.
A nod, and she looked away. Her gaze seemed to scan the horizon, not locking onto anything in particular.
Silence stretched, both uncomfortable and welcoming. A breeze stirred. Crickets chirped. An owl hooted.
His cell buzzed.
He rose to his haunches and pulled it from his back pocket.
Brent: Did you find her?
He thumbed a response and hit Send. Yes. We’re in the park. She’s fine.
Brent: Thank Gucci! Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
Since Jason didn’t think anything fit in that category, he didn’t reply. “That was Brent wanting to know if…”
She’d gotten up from the swing while he’d been distracted and was several paces away, her back to him as she walked. Maybe she was a figment.
“Where are you going?” He lumbered to his feet and brushed off his pants.
She paused, but didn’t turn around. “Home.”
Damn if panic didn’t throw down a second gauntlet. Which made no sense, nor did he care for the sensation. “Wh
y?”
She tilted her head, offering her profile, and spoke over her shoulder. “Why not?”
He chalked that up to her being a teacher and hanging around with young children all day. Otherwise he’d been casted in an episode of Sesame Street without his knowledge. “Our date isn’t over yet.”
A dry huff of a laugh, and she slowly faced him. “This wasn’t a date, remember? We’re just friends, if that, and only agreed to go because it was expected of us. We didn’t make it to the restaurant, you found me, we cleared the air, and now I’m going home.”
Found her? Maybe. That was stretching it. He suspected she’d not been lost in the first place, but hiding instead. Her succinct summary of the evening failed to mention the kiss between clearing the air and going home. The air wasn’t clear. It was hazy with a chance of smog. Plus, that kiss. How could she outright ignore it? He was still vibrating. And, most of all—he snapped upright when he realized it was the last thing he’d absorbed—why was she reminding him this wasn’t a date?
Holy hell. What was happening to him?
“Precisely. Goodnight, Jason.”
There she went again, acting like the prey needing to be hunted. He didn’t hound women. He didn’t pursue females who walked away from him. What he always had done was breathe a sigh of relief that he’d escaped the dreaded relationship convo or dramatic breakup scenario. He didn’t…
Run after them, round them until they halted, and put his palms up so he could stop their retreat to keep them in his orbit. Like he’d apparently done just now with Ella.
All right. This wasn’t funny anymore.
“Jason, I—”
“No, just hear me out.” He stared at her and sighed. Hell if he knew what to say. Or do. Or even why, for that matter.
Exhaustion clear in her features, she raised her brows, waiting.
“We are friends,” he hedged. That part at least he could stand by. “We can be better and closer friends, if given half the chance.” Okay, this was sounding good. More like himself. “But that aside, tonight was supposed to be about us.” Wait. What? “Whatever the original reason or whoever instrumented the evening, we were supposed to have a date tonight.” No, they weren’t. His train was derailing and someone had stolen his conductor hat. “We haven’t had that date, so please don’t pack it in yet.”