Chapter 7 #2
“We don’t have to make small talk, either.” It was the last thing she wanted. It was difficult enough to keep a conversation going at the best of times, never mind with her mind whirling like this.
If he took offence, he didn’t show it, only tipping his head in acknowledgement and starting the car. She gave him the address, and then they were turning off of Main Street.
They drove in silence. The steady lull of the engine dulled the anxiety, the ache in her stomach making her feel like she was wrapped in cotton wool: a nice, unexpected reprieve.
She fought not to let her lids close, easier said than done when Warren began humming lightly under his breath.
She was surprised to find it wasn’t the most unpleasant sound she’d ever heard, though she failed to identify the rough melody.
Maybe she regretted the no small talk rule.
She wished now for the excuse to look at him, temptation fluttering over her, sneaking glances to take him in before he could catch her looking.
His profile was mesmerising, from the slight deviation at the bridge of his nose to the devastatingly sharp hinge of his jaw.
She pulsed with his proximity, especially when he reached for the gear stick, hand falling inches from her thigh.
Most women would think her mad to treat him the way she had, and would probably be right to.
Especially now, when he was helping her.
Driving her home at gone 3 in the morning likely wasn’t his job, after all.
She wondered what would happen now if she wasn’t so guarded, so marked by previous hurt.
What if she was someone who took the opportunities offered up to her?
Would she let her fingertips drag over the hollow of his throat like she craved, his skin zapping warmth into her?
Where would he kiss her? Would it be soft or rough?
Would he moan her name or forget it altogether?
She shifted when the space between her legs began to throb, trying to chase the sensation away. When it didn’t work, she pressed her forehead against the cool window and concentrated on the overgrown hedgerows trailing against the side of the car.
“You okay?” Warren’s voice was husky from so long spent not speaking. She felt his gaze comb over the side of her face, her neck, and tensed.
“Fine,” was about all she could murmur, and it was a lie. Her body didn’t feel like hers. It didn’t usually react this way. Anyone would think she’d never been in a car with someone before.
“At the risk of getting my head bitten off again, am I allowed to ask why you’re only wearing one shoe?”
She almost gasped with relief at the break in tension.
If he’d have asked what she was thinking about, she wasn’t sure she could have trusted her body or her words not to betray her.
“I was wearing two shoes before I stepped into the bookstore. Only, one of them was a slipper. Turns out I can’t dress myself in the dark. But I wasn’t drunk.”
“You’re like a modern-day Cinderella. If I find the slipper, will you reconsider that drink I proposed?
” He flicked a quick sidelong glance at her and she felt her whole body flush with heat – and then confusion.
Why on earth would he still want to go for a drink with her after the way she’d snapped at him?
And when she was sitting here in soggy pyjamas, about as fragrant as pondwater?
The fluff of her robe suddenly felt too sticky against her skin, and she wished she could take it off. Better yet, she wished she wasn’t here at all. “You’re relentless.”
He shrugged nonchalantly, streetlights passing over his face. “Makes two of us, then. Where were you staying tonight, if not at home?”
“A hotel. We were celebrating my best friend’s book release, except now the books are probably all ruined. Her first ever copies. She’ll be gutted.”
“I’m sure you can figure it out. What types of books does she write?”
“Romantasy.”
“I don’t know what that is,” Warren admitted. “Apparently, I don’t read, remember?”
Eiley fiddled with the belt on her robe. She wished she could take some of those crueller insults back. “It’s romance and fantasy mixed together.”
“Oh, right. Isn’t all romance a fantasy? Or do you mean, like, women who snog dragons?”
The mockery in his voice irked her, like finding enjoyment in romance was something to be sneered at. “Sometimes, there are dragons. This one has fairies.”
“Fairies. Interesting.” He raised a curious eyebrow. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. Regardless, the annoyance it triggered snuffed out any of that pesky, lingering lust. “Is she any good at it?”
“Harper will be a bestseller in no time.” That, she was sure of, and didn’t mind if it sounded like a brag.
Still, it was another reason why she couldn’t help but feel like the rope tying everyone down.
While Harper and Fraser chased their dreams, Eiley was just trying, and failing, to keep herself together.
She was relieved when Mum’s narrow terraced house came into view at the end of the avenue, curtains drawn against the dark. Luckily, she still had a key to the front door in her purse. She rooted through her bag for it, eager to escape Warren’s chafing presence.
“Mind if I have this back now?” A weight was lifted, and it took her a moment to realise it was literal – Warren retrieving his helmet. The one she had forgotten she was wearing.
She cringed at the memory of snatching it, and what had followed. “Thanks for taking me home.”
“Aye. Good luck with everything, firecracker.”
The nickname was soft as honey in his mouth, enough to fan the embers of that desire. She hadn’t felt it in a long, long time. Didn’t get enough alone time to even remember what pleasure felt like, these days, let alone want.
But she didn’t want him. No. She was just … stressed. Her head was all over the place, and he was here. He always seemed to be here.
So she left the car without another word and only allowed herself a curt wave of thanks once the door was safely shut. As she watched his car lights disappear down the road, she chewed the inside of her cheek and prepared herself for what came next.
As she passed through the wooden gate and up the pathway to Mum’s door, the bittersweet ache of coming home hit her like a brick wall.
Like always, everything and nothing had changed: she was still heartbroken, still lost, and still at Mum’s.
She may as well never have left.