by Kelly Moran
“If I wanted to settle, I’d be settled. And I do date. I’m actually a serial dater. It’s commitment I avoid.”
“Yes, but why? Not judging, I’d just like to know.”
She deserved an answer to that question. Especially because she was sitting in his apartment, having finished a meal he’d cooked for her, and after he’d chased her for this very date even though he’d told her and himself it was a very bad idea. Problem was, he didn’t know the full reason or if he could properly explain a partial one.
“My work can be dangerous, for starters. Granted, this is a small town and big catastrophes are unlikely, but my dad died doing the same job, proving anything can happen. I wouldn’t want to put a metaphorical person I love through the same thing.”
Up went her brows.
“What?”
She shrugged. “Shouldn’t the risk of loving you be up to the metaphorical woman?”
“Not if I can help it. No risk if I never allow it to start.”
A smile teased one corner of her mouth. “No risk, no reward.”
She had him there. He narrowed his eyes playfully at her, earning a full smile.
“Let’s put it this way.” She set her plate aside and leaned both arms on the table. “Life doesn’t have a guarantee. If anyone gets that, it’s us. I might have what you consider a safe career, but I could be hit by a car, or develop terminal cancer, or slip on water in my classroom and crack my head open. To me, that’s not a reason to bail on the good things when they come along.”
“Which is why I go balls-out in everything. I take adventures and have as much fun as possible.”
“Except with love.”
“I don’t let it get that far.”
She pointed at him like he’d proven her point. “Precisely. Don’t you get it? All out or not, you’ve been playing it safe. Love is the ultimate adventure, the greatest risk. There’s no assurance or safety net. You just leap.”
“Leap, huh?” Damn, but she was amazing all riled up. Heated debate or joking or on one of her rambles, she stirred his blood until it boiled. He suspected she wasn’t like this with many people, and that only amped his desire. “Ever been in love, Ella?”
“No.”
Ha. He had her. “Then you’ve been playing it safe, too.”
“Difference is, I wouldn’t shy away from love if it stumbled upon my path.”
Well, shit. Clever cookie. Furthermore… “Why hasn’t love ‘stumbled upon your path,’ as you put it?” Just what was wrong with the guys she’d dated? If he were a different man, he’d leap for her.
Another shrug. “I take some getting used to, I guess. Haven’t met the right man.” She studied him, humor receding from her eyes. “I can’t speak for your mom, but I bet if you ask her, she’d do it all over again. Even if she knew the outcome, that your dad would die before his time, she’d still choose to love him.” She expelled a quiet breath and looked away.
“She probably would.” He cleared his throat and ignored the pang in his chest. “The pain might be worth it. I don’t know.” He’d rather avoid it, if it was all the same to him. “She never dated again, though. Stupid as this sounds, if she had met someone else after my dad, proved that life went on and she found love a second time, maybe I’d be more open to the notion.”
He stared at a spot on the wall over her shoulder. Interesting how he’d not connected those dots before, his mama and dating again. He’d never consciously thought about it. Truth remained, she hadn’t really gotten over his dad’s death. She hadn’t pined or been stuck in a stalemate, but she hadn’t sought that feeling again. Proving his decision to avoid it altogether a good one.
Ella made a humming noise in her throat. “I think some people have one person. A soul mate or whatever you’d like to call it. Others have many.” She flicked her gaze to his, and the guilt in her features nearly knocked him off his chair. “Perhaps your parents fell into the first category. Mine did. However, I don’t believe that equals regret. Like I said before. If given the choice, I bet they’d do it again, despite the way it ended.” She tore her gaze away like it hurt to look at him. “Your life is your own to live however you want. That’s just my opinion.”
He nodded slowly. It was all he seemed capable of doing. She had this uncanny way of pulling information and topics from him he’d not discussed with another soul. Himself included. Deflection, his middle name. Avoid. Divert whenever possible. He knew it was a self-inflicted defense mechanism, and was wiser for utilizing it.
So, why then, did he not have the urge to claw his eyes out, his ears off, or hop on the closest plane to skydive the seriousness right out of him?
Nope. Here he sat, shrouded in the shadows of the past he’d tried to ignore since he was eight, and willingly having a discussion with a woman who he should not be walking, but running away from because she’d exposed those very shadows.
Shined a light on them.
Rationalized them, even.
Understood their nature and defied them.
“So much for leaving the heavy stuff for later.”
He jerked his attention to her.
She smiled, a little sad and a lot sympathetic. “We could discuss politics or religion to lighten the mood.”
And, Hail Mary. She had a funny bone to boot.
Chapter 12
Ella moved the vase of flowers on her kitchen table to the left an inch, shook her head, and moved it back. The setting was perfect. Her pretty white plates and blue cloth napkins complimented the ivory lilies. She needed to quit putzing.
She’d had dinner at Jason’s place a couple evenings this week after work since that initial “date,” but this was the first time he’d be coming to her apartment. They’d had great conversation and a lot of laughs, brushed on some deep subjects. There was nothing to be nervous about. Heck, he hadn’t even tried to kiss her since the night he’d found her in the park.
Which probably meant he did just want to be friends. Admittedly, she was disappointed. He’d been right about their spark. Yet, there was still her secret hovering between them. Often, she’d tried to bring it up, relieve her guilt, but he’d always told her no, that she should tell him some other time. It didn’t feel right, him not knowing. In truth, he might hate her when he learned the truth. What she should do was talk to Greta about it, see what advice her cousin had to offer.
Not now, though. Jason would be here any minute.
A glance at her entry table, and she smiled. The envelope of cash he’d tried to give her sat beside her purse. After eating chicken parmesan at his place, she’d used his bathroom and had left the money on his vanity. Two evenings later, it had wound up back in her purse. It had become a twisted sort of game on who would wind up with it.
She closed her eyes and pulled a breath into her lungs. She’d worn black leggings and a loose white top. Supper was in a skillet on her stove. The table was set, the bathroom cleaned, the furniture dusted, and her hardwood floors swept. Everything was fine. She was fine.
Until a firm knock on her door threw her pulse into overdrive. Gosh, he made her so anxious sometimes. The good kind. Flutters and giddiness.
She cleared her throat and turned the knob. “Hi.”
Gah, he was handsome. One day, maybe she’d get used to that, but it seemed unlikely. He rocked a pair of worn jeans and a green tee that brought out the flecks of moss in his eyes amongst all the hazel. A day’s worth of scruff dusted his jaw and his sandy blond hair was long enough on top to brush his brow.
“Come in.”
“Hello, Ella.” He moved past her, hands in his back pockets. His biceps bunched at the position and she bit back a moan. “Smells good. What are we having?”
“Beef stir-fry and rice. Are you hungry? We could eat now. Otherwise it’ll keep for a bit. We could talk for a while until you’re ready or watch TV or—”
“Still nervous, sweetheart?” He grinned, decimating buildings around him. “After all the times we’ve hung out?�
��
Hung out. Not dated.
Dang, that shouldn’t hurt.
“Yes, well. I can’t help it. It’ll go away after a few minutes, I’m sure. At least, it has before. I just need to get situated first, I suppose. Comfortable or whatever. Acclimate? That’s a better term. Acclimate to—”
He snaked one arm around her back, hauled her to him, and pressed his lips to hers. A firm, unyielding smack. Just like that. Boom. End rant. Exit stage left.
Slowly, he eased away, only to wrap the other arm around her and cinch her closer. Her breasts crushed against his hard wall of a chest, stealing her breath. Tilting his head, he sealed his mouth to hers again, a tighter, more gentler fit, and groaned. The rumble vibrated from his ribs to hers.
“Been wanting to do that all week,” he mumbled against her lips. “Was trying to take it slow and not rush this, but you smell good.” Light kiss. “And taste good.” Groan. “And feel good.”
Parting her lips with his, he slid his tongue inside and stroked hers. Long, languid swirls of teasing and exploration that had the hairs on her nape standing erect and the fist in her belly unfurling. Heat replaced the tension and blasted in every direction. She followed his lead and met his match, inhaling through her nose in order not to pass out cold. Her legs shook. Her body trembled.
“I’ve got you,” he said, a quiet coax.
Fingers brushed the hair at her temple and wove through the strands to hold the side of her head. Tender. Affectionate.
She opened her eyes, dizzy as the edges of her peripheral grayed, only to find him right there. As they shared oxygen, he just held her, watching through the thick fan of his lashes. Fondness and interest warmed his gaze the longer they remained idle.
She cleared her throat. “Did I…do something wrong?” Because he’d quit the mind-shattering kissing. Then hadn’t spoken. She didn’t have a lot of expertise when it came to intimacy. Perhaps he hadn’t liked the way she’d kissed.
His brows furrowed. “No. Why would you think that?”
“You stopped.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. The other followed point-three seconds later. “First, you were trembling. Second, if we keep it up, we might not get to the eating portion of the evening. Third, don’t ever assume you did something wrong. That was very, very right. And fourth, I had to clear my head for a moment. You make me confused out of my ever-loving mind and I’m wondering how to respond to that fact.”
“Oh.” Well, then. What was she supposed to say? That was sweet and… Heck, he was confused? He could get behind her in line. “Anything I can do to help?”
“I doubt it.”
Er, hmm. “How do I confuse you?”
“Honestly?” He sighed. “I should be getting bored by now. I haven’t spent this much time with someone before. By now, typically, I’m ready to move on.”
Did that mean she was boring or the opposite?
“That makes me sound like an asshole. I can be sometimes. But the truth is the truth. I don’t stick. Granted, we haven’t slept together yet, and my feelings might change when we do, but right now, I don’t want to stop seeing you. So, yep. I’m confused.”
She rearranged what he said, was in the process of dissecting his statement, but her mouth jumped the gun. “You want to sleep with me?”
Grin. “Thought that much was obvious.”
“And then we’d be over because I’d be boring?”
His expression flat-lined. “You are not, nor will you ever be boring. I’m saying, when and if we get to the point of sex, it’s probable my pattern of wanting to flee will return. I’m telling you that not to hurt you, but so you understand. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen from here on out, nothing is your fault. I think I was born without the ability to connect on a romantic level.”
No one who treated, spoke, or touched her the way he did could have something wrong with them. She suspected he just hadn’t met the right woman or wasn’t ready to accept her if he had.
“Let me ask you this.” He looked down at her, gaze darting between her eyes. “Are you attracted to me?”
Was he kidding? “Yes.”
“Do you want me to keep kissing you? For this to progress?”
“Yes.”
He offered a barely perceptible nod. “You haven’t made a move on me or initialized contact. That’s why I asked. Even now, you’re not touching me.”
She glanced down, noting her arms were by her sides and his were still around her. She hadn’t realized. “I, uh…” Dang it. “I never know what to do with my hands. What or how or when I’m supposed to touch, I guess. Will he like it or will it turn him off? Am I doing it wrong? I haven’t had a lot of practice when it comes to this sort of thing and—”
“What sort of thing?”
“Dating. Sex.” Criminy, she wasn’t explaining this very well. “I—”
“How much practice are we talking?”
“What?”
His head tilted the slightest bit. “You said you haven’t had a lot. How much?”
“Well, almost none. A few boyfriends in high school who kissed me. I had sex once in college. A couple dates since then that led to nothing.”
“Hold it.” He threw his hands up and stepped away as if she were contagious. “Are you telling me you’ve only been with one other man before?”
“Yes.” And he’d said she wasn’t boring? Ha. His position verified otherwise. And, for some unknown reason, that seemed to scare him. Which was crazy. She must be reading him incorrectly.
His eyes widened. He dropped his arms, hands slapping his thighs. A long-winded exhale followed. “All right. Okay. Wow.” He rubbed his neck, gaze heavenward. “I think maybe we need to eat, after all. This requires discussion.”
She would’ve thought the lack of material proved there was nothing to discuss. Regardless, she walked around him and into the kitchen. She dished the rice, spooning stir-fry over it, and set the plates back on the table.
He was still in the same position she’d left him, eyes on the ceiling and a dumbstruck look on his face.
“Dinner is ready.”
He didn’t so much as twitch, and her belly sank.
“Do you want to call it a night? Go home?”
Nothing.
She chewed on her lower lip while acid ate at her stomach lining. “Jason?”
Silent, stiff, he strode to the table, sat, and strategically placed his napkin in his lap.
Unsure, she did the same.
“Your apartment is nice, by the way.” Focus solely on his plate, he chewed and swallowed. “This is really good.”
Geez. She was way out of her element. “Thank you and…thank you?”
“The snap peas are super crisp. I like them that way. And these little corn cob things? I never know what to call them. They’re—” He dropped his fork on his plate with a clatter that reverberated off the walls and rebounded with a crack. “Okay. I apologize. You’re going to have to forgive me, but I’m kinda at a loss. How have you only had one lover?”
“I told you, I’m socially awkward. I babble when I’m nervous. There hasn’t been much opportunity and I don’t tend to attract many men.”
Fists on the table, he glared at her as if she’d spoken a trigonometry equation in Russian. “What?”
Shaking, she set her silverware aside. It wasn’t like she was going to use it since food was not going to make it past her esophagus anyway. “Most guys don’t find me attractive.” Or see her at all. “The opportunity isn’t there because I don’t get out much. Which stems from social anxiety because I’m awkward and—”
“No, no. I heard you loud and clear.” He spread his fingers, palms flat beside his plate. “My what was rhetorical.” He stared. And stared. And stared some more. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Boy, had this night gone south quick. “I—”
“You are not awkward. You’re adorable. From your rambling to the way you wrinkle your nose to the cute texts y
ou send on behalf of my cat. Adorable. Any guy who can’t hear past a few run-on sentences to actually listen to the words is a jackass. Because you say plenty. You’re an open book and blatantly real. A rare breed these days. As for the not attractive part? Whose ass do I need to kick? We’re here because it started with attraction. I’m attracted. You’re extremely attractive. Period.” He sucked a breath, nostrils flaring. “Make that an exclamation point.”
Shitake mushrooms. He’d just… Had he…?
No one had ever said such nice things to her. Ever. Aside from her family, but they were family. They were obligated to boost confidence and support. Angry, irritated tone aside, that was the most surprising, delightful, holy cow display of defending honor she’d ever heard. And he’d done it for her.
Unable to budge, she soughed oxygen and prayed she wasn’t fire engine red or panting as a result. Her heart did some sort of cartwheel behind her ribs and kicked her lungs for effect. She stared at him, his furrowed brow and determined gaze and lips thin with lingering annoyance, and she just about melted into a puddle of sticky goo in her chair.
“I’m used to more experience.” His features relaxed, degree by degree, until the rare serious side of him showed its face. “Women flirt or come onto me. I do my share as well. I’m used to being with someone who has experience. That’s where my surprise and subsequent reaction came from. You haven’t done that, touched or hit on me. You haven’t made a pass unless it was in response to my actions.”
For the second time in twenty minutes, she got the impression that frightened him. Once, she could blow off. Twice was a pattern, a gut reaction. He probably didn’t have enough fingers and toes to count the number of females he’d slept with. Why on Earth would someone like her strike fear in him?
“Why does that scare you?” If anything, she should be intimidated by him. Actually, she was when they weren’t together. In his presence, though, and once they started talking, he was easy to be around.
“Because you’re the type of person I should avoid. I gave you mixed signals from the start because my head was fighting my body.” He closed his eyes a beat. When he opened them, his gaze went back to his plate. “My partners knew the deal. You and I may have discussed it, but getting intimate changes things. Feelings get involved. Especially if you haven’t had other experiences as a base.”