Chapter 13
Via fell back against the bench seat. That was stupid. Oh so stupid. Why had she snapped at Leo like that? Again? But she
knew exactly why, and it wasn’t his fault.
Octavia Bernice Dalton didn’t have romantic fantasies. Trevor had barely made a dent in her dreams. But she’d just had one
about Leo, and it had felt real. So real that when she snapped awake she’d forgotten where she was for a second. In her half-sleepy
and fully annoyed state, she was mad he’d spoiled her dream . . . about him.
Then he offered to release her of her promise to help him, and all she heard was that he didn’t want her around. Where had
she heard . . . felt . . . that before?
The fluorescent light shined on Sir’s fur from the parking lot lamp overhead. He curled in a ball in her lap, purring away.
Oh, to be a cat, particularly this one, and not have a care in the world.
She had to fix this. Not just gloss it over, like she had before the pumpkin patch. She’d been irrational then too. Since
Leo Brewster had entered her life, she hadn’t been able to think straight. And then there were her feelings. Because even
though she’d been idiotic, she was still feeling remnants from that dream. Delicious, hot remnants . . .
It was clear her attraction to Leo wasn’t going to go away. She had to learn how to manage it. And he didn’t deserve her flying off the handle because of her issues.
Via continued to think for a little while longer, petting Sir as she did. Finally, she came to one conclusion. Honesty. She
didn’t have to tell Leo everything about her past, but she could explain herself more. She also needed to apologize.
She locked Gold Yeller and carried Sir to her apartment. “You’re on your own,” she said, unclipping his leash and putting
him inside. Then she faced Leo’s. Her heart started to pound. Was she doing the right thing? I hope so.
Via knocked once. Twice. She was about to knock a third time when the door cracked open.
Half of Leo’s face appeared and looked surprised.
“Hi.” She pointed her toes inward. Doing the right thing didn’t make it any less awkward.
“I’m kind of busy right now.” He sounded strained.
“This won’t take long,” she insisted. “I promise. Can I come in?”
“Via—”
Suddenly Sir streaked past her ankles.
Oh no! She’d forgotten to shut the door all the way—
He barreled through the crack in the door. Leo stumbled back.
Via lost her breath. She’d find it later, because thanks to Sir Meow, Leo was standing in front of her clad only in a towel.
Me . . . ow.
Leo was still annoyed with Via by the time he reached the apartment stairs, but he also started rationalizing what happened.
She was tired, and he knew how crabby he got when he didn’t get enough sleep.
She’d also been deep in slumber and he clearly startled her.
He still didn’t know why she’d thought he was going to stand her up, but by that point he was thinking about going back downstairs to make amends.
That moved his thoughts to holding her .
. . kissing her . . . doing other things . . . and into the cold shower he went.
He’d just finished when he heard the knock on the door. It could only be her, and he thought about not answering it. But he
refused to give anyone the silent treatment, so answer he did, just to tell her he couldn’t talk. And seeing her reaction
to him now, he really couldn’t find words.
Her eyes had moved from his face and were lingering down his body with a heady mix of curiosity and longing. All he could
do was return the favor, examining her delectable curves and taking his sweet time doing so.
She blinked, breaking the connection between them. He grabbed the towel and she looked at the path of discarded clothing he
left on the floor that went straight to the bathroom. Her cheeks turned scarlet. “I didn’t realize you were in the middle
of . . . I gotta go.” She spun around to flee and her forehead slammed right into the edge of the open door.
He flinched. Forget curiosity and yearning. That looked and sounded like it hurt. “Are you okay?”
Her palm pressed against her head. She shot a look at him and glanced away again. “Go put some clothes on!”
He dashed into Earl’s bedroom, then spun around and stuck his head outside. “Be right back.” He quickly yanked on more clothes
and rushed back into the living room to see she’d moved to the couch. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she replied, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. “Just smarts a little.”
He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge.
No ice pack, but there were small baggies in one of the drawers and an almost threadbare dish towel that looked clean and smelled okay.
He filled one with a few ice cubes from the single metal tray he’d filled yesterday and wrapped it in the towel.
“Here,” he said, sitting beside her and placing the pack against the small red mark on her forehead.
“I don’t think I need this, Leo. It’s not like you hit me with a lampshade.” She gave him a sheepish smile.
In that instant, everything was right again, other than the fact that she might have a bruise from the collision. “Let me
do this,” he said, smiling back. “Don’t want to take any chances on a concussion.”
After a few seconds, she removed his hand and the ice pack. “I’m really sorry, Leo. For barging in—”
“That,” he said, holding up his index finger, “was Sir’s fault.” The offending feline was lying on the center of the coffee
table. Such an innocent lamb. Not.
She closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you in Gold Yeller. It’s not you,” she said, opening one amber eye at him.
“It’s me.”
“Sounds a little familiar.” Actually, he’d only heard that once, his sophomore year of college when he’d fallen for a classmate.
Hard. They dated for a while but she dumped him, using those exact words. Funny, he couldn’t remember her name right now.
His focus was solely on Via.
“I need to explain,” she said.
“You don’t have to—”
“I do.” She was looking directly at him now. “Please.” When he nodded, she said, “I had a really bad experience with my ex.”
“And you have to protect yourself.”
She sat up a little straighter, nodding. “So to keep myself from feeling . . . feelings—”
“You push people away.”
“Exactly,” she said, looking a little less anxious. “You understand.”
More than she realized. Maybe more than he even realized. He didn’t like the idea of her having such a terrible relationship
that she had to cover her heart in steel. He’d never had a relationship that required the kind of commitment that would leave
him heartbroken. But he’d been plenty hurt before, in a different way.
But now she’d opened a door he had to walk through. “Those feelings . . . are they for me, Smitten Kitten?”
Via groaned and slid halfway down the couch cushions. “I’m so embarrassed . . .” She shot him a look. “Harvard Boy.”
He gently pulled her back up. “You shouldn’t be.”
“I just admitted I like you. That I really am a . . . smitten kitten.”
He laughed. “Trust me. You’re not the only one who’s smitten.”
Surprise entered her eyes. “Really?”
Her lack of guile was refreshing. “What’s not to like?”
“Thanks,” she said shyly, fully sitting up again. “What do we do next?”
Leo thought for a minute. “Nothing, I guess. You said you didn’t want a relationship. Has that changed?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Same here. And I don’t do one-night stands.”
She looked relieved. “Me neither.”
He sat back on the couch. “I gotta say, this was the last thing I expected when I arrived in Pecan Corner.”
“This is the last thing I expected when you got out of your car.” She set the pack on the floor and turned to face him. “We
didn’t exactly hit it off.”
He drummed his fingers on the back of Earl’s worn couch. “Well, you did hit me,” he reminded her with a wink.
“You were trespassing,” she teased.
“Thanks for not calling the cops.” He faced her. “Let’s look at this logically.” At her eager nod, he continued. “We’re attracted
to each other.”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmured.
Oof. This might be harder than he thought. But he was serious about not getting involved, despite wanting to find out if her
lips tasted as sweet as he thought they did. “Attraction is just chemicals,” he said, getting back on track. “Particularly
in the beginning. It takes time for that to develop into anything else.”
“Right,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “Lots and lots of time.”
“Which we don’t have.”
Her face fell a little. “Because you have to get back to LA.”
“Precisely. And since we both have our own personal boundaries, there’s no point in acting on anything.” Being so analytical
about this was having the desired effect. His urge to kiss her was fading, fast. It also helped that she had scooted away
from him a little bit.
“You know what would help?” she said with a grin. “Putting a bag over your head. You’re way too good-looking.”
He burst out laughing. “I can put on my glasses. That’ll kill the chemicals right there.”
“Do not do that.” At his confused expression, she said, “You really don’t know how good you look in them?”
“Those coke bottles?”
“Don’t tell me no one’s said that to you before.”
Sir got up and jumped in his lap. “Make yourself at home, buddy,” he muttered. “I wear contacts as much as possible.”
“A pity.”
He chuckled again. She was cute. “Let’s see, what can we do to diminish your beauty?” he said in a playful tone.
“That won’t be hard. I’m not that beautiful.” Before he could protest, she said, “I’m not fishing for compliments either.”
“So you’re going to deny me the chance to give you one?”
“Just a small one,” she said softly.
He pretended to think about it.
“Wow, if it’s that hard don’t bother—”
“You’re smart.” He’d been prepared to name one of her many splendid physical characteristics. But that’s what came out, and
it was the truth. “You’re incredibly smart.”
“Oh. Well, thank you for noticing—”
“I’m not finished.” He leaned toward her, his playful smile disappearing to dead seriousness. “Your intelligence is one of
many . . . many sexy things about you.”