Chapter 6 Julian
SIX
JULIAN
Rita was off for a few days and when I walked into the office, Bethany handed me an envelope with a knowing smile.
"This came for you. It was hand-delivered yesterday afternoon."
I stared at the cream-colored envelope with my name written in precise, angular handwriting. "Hand-delivered by who?"
"A tall, dark-haired guy with a serious expression. He looked like he was either about to propose or commit a murder." She grinned. "He was very intense."
My heart was racing as I took it. "Thanks."
I waited until I was in the van with Cooper before opening it. My hands shook as I unfolded the single sheet of paper inside.
Julian, Next time, there won't be a hallway. Or a teammate. Or any interruptions. Dinner? Friday, 7pm. Marcello's on Fifth - they're holding a table for us. You're my guest. Come if you're still patient. Renard
I read it three times and a fourth. He'd asked me to dinner in writing, with a specific time and place. After all the walking away and the almost-moments and the confusion.
And that line. Next time, there won't be a hallway.
I pulled out my phone and texted Marshall. He asked me to dinner.
The response came immediately. THE GOALIE???
Yes.
When?
Friday.
That's days away. You're going to be insufferable.
He wasn't wrong.
The days dragged on. I walked dogs and tried to focus on work, but I failed spectacularly.
Rita caught me staring into space more than once.
Renard’s next game came and went with the Storm winning 3-1 and Renard making save after save.
I watched from home, alone, and wondered if he was thinking about Friday night too.
On Friday evening, I checked myself out in the mirror. "It's just dinner," I told my reflection. "With a professional hockey player who almost kissed you and then sent a note that was basically a promise."
No pressure.
I arrived at Marcello's ten minutes early and spent those minutes sitting in my car trying to calm my racing heart.
Light spilled from the restaurant's windows glowed onto the pavement.
Through the windows, I watched couples at intimate tables, and the waitstaff moving between them. This was really happening.
When I finally gathered the courage to go inside, I took in the exposed brick walls, soft jazz playing and the mingled scents of garlic fresh bread. The hostess looked up with a smile.
"Reservation?"
"I'm meeting someone. Conley?"
She looked me up and down and I stuck out my chin. "Of course. Right this way."
She led me through the main dining room where every table seemed occupied by couples leaning close and speaking in low voices.
My palms were sweating. What if this was a mistake?
What if I'd misread everything and Renard was just being polite?
But I rounded a decorative screen into a corner section and Renard stood up.
He wore jeans and a soft charcoal sweater that I wanted to stroke. He looked at me as though I was the only person in the room. His gaze moved from my face to my mouth and back up. Goosebumps spread over my skin.
"Hi." I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
"Hi." His mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile but was close. He pulled out the chair across from him. "Sit, please."
The table was small and intimate. Our knees bumped as I settled in. The contact sent heat up my leg even though it was a pleasant temperature in the restaurant.
A waiter appeared with menus and water and explained the specials before disappearing. I stared at the menu without reading it, too aware of Renard's presence across from me. Every time I moved in my chair, his eyes were on me and his gaze was almost like a touch.
“Everything looks so good," I told him.
I managed to focus enough to choose the risotto special the waiter had rattled off. At least I thought I had. My attention was on the man across from me and his fingers drumming once against the table.
"I'm glad you got Bailey to the vet," he said after the waiter left. "I checked with the clinic and she was released the next day."
"You did that?”
His ears went red. "I wanted to make sure she was okay."
"That's really sweet."
"Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."
It was the closest thing to a joke I'd heard from him and I found myself smiling. "Your secret's safe with me."
The food arrived. My risotto looked incredible.
I took a bite and barely tasted it because every time I looked up, Renard was watching me.
His attention tracked the movement of my fork to my mouth, lingering on my lips.
When I reached for my water glass, our hands brushed, and he made a tiny sound that could have been a whimper.
"Can I ask you something?" I set down my fork, unable to focus on food when sitting across from him like this.
"Sure."
"Why now? You've been pulling away and then this." I jerked my head toward the restaurant.
Renard wrapped his fingers around his wine glass but he didn't drink. "Relationships are complicated for me."
"Because of hockey?"
"Partly. There’s the schedule, the travel and all the attention." He paused. "But it's more than that. My life isn't ummm normal."
"Whose is?"
"Mine especially." He worried his bottom lip with his teeth. "There are things about me that make being with someone difficult. I can't easily explain it and there are parts of myself I have to hide."
I thought about the intensity in his eyes and how he seemed to be constantly holding himself back. "Are you in witness protection or something?"
That surprised a laugh out of him. "No. Nothing illegal."
"Then I'm not sure what could be that complicated."
"You say that now."
"Try me."
He looked at me across the table and under the table his knee pressed more firmly against mine. "What if I told you that being with me means accepting things you don't understand? I can't share everything right away? There's a whole part of my life you'd have to be patient about?"
"I'd say everyone has secrets. I'm patient, remember?"
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true." I leaned forward. His eyes dropped to my mouth again. "Whatever you think is going to scare me off, I'm tougher than I look."
"I don't think you're not tough." He lowered his voice and I was glad I was seated because his voice, his cologne and him being so close was making me dizzy. "I think about you constantly. You handle chaos like it's nothing and you don't give up, even when I walked away. That's the problem."
My heart was pounding. "How?" He wasn’t making sense but the intensity of his gaze almost had me slurring my words.
"Because you deserve someone who can be completely honest with you from the start and doesn't have complications."
"Maybe I don't want that. Perhaps I want you."
His hand moved across the table and his fingertips stopped just short of mine. He was so close and I longed to reach over and place my lips on his. And if he put his hand under the table and grabbed my thigh, I’d be up for that too. Heck I was already up.
"Julian."
"You invited me here. You wrote a note that said there wouldn't be any interruptions. So stop interrupting yourself."
A smile unfolded across his face. His fingers finally closed over mine, and the touch made my pulse race. "You're pushy."
"You like it."
"I do."
We finished dinner and all I could focus on was how he stroked my hand and his eyes never left my face.
After he paid the bill, his hand found the small of my back and we walked through the restaurant. Heads swivelled but I stared straight ahead.
The parking lot was quiet and I thanked him for dinner.
"Thank you for coming."
We stood beside my car with the streetlight casting shadows across his face and highlighting his strong jaw.
"No hallway this time." I pressed my lips together.
"There’s no teammate about to drag me away." His hand cupped my jaw and I shivered anticipating his mouth on mine.
"What are you waiting for?"
"Nothing." He closed the distance between us.
The kiss wasn't gentle. It was everything I’d been holding back since that first day in the park with the tangled leashes. His mouth was hot and demanding, and I parted my lips for him. One of his hands slid into my hair while the other gripped my hip, pulling me closer.
I moaned into his mouth, and he growled in response. It was such a turn on and I kissed him harder.
My hands fisted his shirt and he backed me against my car. The cool metal against my back contrasted with the heat of his body pressed against me. His tongue swept against mine, and someone's car alarm went off nearby but I didn't flinch.
When we finally broke apart, with both of us breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine.
"Come home with me."