Chapter 14
Jo
In the end, it was two full weeks before Adam came knocking again. And by came knocking, I meant I saw him at Craic for the weekly Saint meeting from my table across the room.
He’d texted last Thursday to say he’d been put on a short-term travel job when Beast had to cancel and was very sweet and apologetic. It wasn’t like he was backing out of a date, and I made it very clear I had no hard feelings. But now, seeing him walk in and greet his team after being gone for a full week, I felt practically starved for the sight of him.
I tried not to expect anything. The amount of time we’d spent together lately—barring the last two weeks—wasn’t something others knew about. But when all he did was give me a little Saint-Security-dude chin nod in greeting from his table as he slapped Kenny on the back and laughed at something Bruce said, my stomach sank.
The girls had been busy peppering Winnie with questions about her honeymoon since she hadn’t felt well enough to come last week, so I focused on that conversation and my beautiful friends. No thoughts veering to the man across the bar, the one who’d cradled my jaw like he wanted to do it and like he was doing me a favor…
Saturday, after a short shift at the store and checking in at Joe, I poured my energy into writing. And that was when he actually came knocking.
I answered the door expecting the food delivery I’d decided to treat myself to, but instead, it was him.
Try as I might, I couldn’t stop my heart from kicking or my pulse from accelerating, the jerks. I didn’t want to have this kind of physical reaction to him or feel a bit giddy that he was here without warning.
He’d been a sweet friend to me a few weeks ago, and I’d let it go to my head more than a little. But he’d clarified things between us effectively when he’d not only not said a word to me last night after weeks away but also sent no communication while he was gone other than the texts to tell me he had to cancel and was leaving town.
“Hey,” he said, looking relaxed.
“Hi. Didn’t expect to see you,” I said, and yeah, that was a tone in my words.
His blue gaze studied me, taking in my glasses, the bun crowning my head, and then my schlubby T-shirt and baggy sweats. Clearly I wasn’t expecting him.
Frustration pricked at me, but another sensation did, too—a keen awareness of his proximity. And then there was the reality of his piercing eyes and slightly longer than usual scruff and the way his button-up stretched across his chest and shoulders.… ugh.
“Can I come in?”
Oh.Right. Yes.
“Sure, come on in,” I said, walking away from the door and letting him shut it.
I retreated to my current writing spot, which was standing at the bar where my laptop sat on the counter. One of my legs had fallen asleep earlier, and even though my ankle was still tender occasionally, standing and normal walking had been just fine.
“How have you been?” he asked as he slowly entered the kitchen area.
Hands on my keyboard, I gave him my attention. “Uh, good. Yeah. Nothing new.”
He nodded. “Good.” Then, without a moment of hesitation, he stopped less than a foot from me and set his hand on the counter next to my computer. “Why are you upset?”
I looked up and startled at his nearness, which made no sense since I’d been tracking his movements out of the corner of my eye the whole time.
“I’m not upset,” I said, a bit breathless.
His gaze didn’t waver. “I know you well enough to know that’s a lie.”
Why did this do… things to me? The fact he knew me?
What is wrong with you?
For a second, I thought about pretending and being a little snot, but then I remembered I hated that kind of thing. I hated it in books with heroines who were supposed to be all sassy and fun but really just sounded like whiney little jerks, and I hated it in real life when I encountered someone who refused to just be brave enough to be honest.
So I girded my big-girl loins—ew, okay, instant regret for that phraseology, and note to self to never use it again—and turned to fully face him.
“I was surprised you didn’t even come say hi to me last night. Wasn’t sure if maybe you were embarrassed to…” I didn’t finish the thought because what even was the thought? Be seen with me? It wasn’t like that. To acknowledge we had a friendship that would merit an individual greeting? That was essentially what I was saying, but it sounded so stupid to my own brain I hated to let it out in words.
His brow furrowed. “What would I be embarrassed about?”
I huffed. “I don’t even know. I’m just an insecure, sad baby, I guess.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, you’re not. But I’d like to point out you didn’t come say hi to me, either.”
A laugh jumped out and my cheeks heated. “I am a terrible person.” It hadn’t even occurred to me I could go say hi to him.
His half smile made my heart flip. “You and your girls were in the middle of a conversation. I didn’t want to barge in and assume you wanted me in your face just because I’d walked in the door. Plus, I’d ditched you last weekend, so I wasn’t sure if you would even want to see me in the wake of my bad-friend business.”
“You had to work—that hardly qualifies as being a bad friend. I was not upset by that—bummed, yes, but not upset.”
He squinted slightly, almost like he wasn’t sure I could mean those words and was looking for signs I didn’t mean it. His gaze flickered over my face, and after a beat, he nodded. “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t come say hi. I would’ve. And that’s why I’m here now.”
My smile couldn’t be tamed. “Just to say hi?”
He grinned back at me. “Yes. And to do what we planned on last weekend—to help you.”
I blinked. “Oh, with the… yeah.”
My heart fluttered and I was definitely breathing weird. He was close enough I could smell his clean soapy-mint scent, and I was torn between running away from him to avoid touching him and burying my face into his chest and heaving in that smell.
Okay, freaky, time to calm down.
“So, is now a good time?” he asked, still standing right there so, apparently, he didn’t get a hint of my weirdo thoughts.
“Uh, sure. Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “What do you, uh… what should we do first?” I didn’t manage to hide my cringe, which he clearly saw.
His amusement glittered back at me in his smile. “Don’t look so horrified. We’ll start with the hand on the cheek—that’s the last thing I saw. Then you can guide us from there.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded, begging my pulse to slow so he wouldn’t feel it racing.
He caught my eye for a second, then his focus shifted to the side of my face and his gaze grazed over my cheek as his warm, rough hand rose to touch my skin. His four fingers slid under my ear, sifting into the hair there, and his thumb gently swept over the apple of my cheek and nestled in front of my ear.
The frenetic energy in me stilled as his eyes slowly rose to meet mine, his face only eight or ten inches away. So close, and yet so far.
“Good. Great,” I whispered, then turned out of his grasp and typed frantically on my computer as he stepped back.
“Cool.” He backed up again, giving me far more space than we’d started with, but I needed it.
Miraculously, I focused on the words, jotting notes in a blank document about the brush of his skin and how his elbow had crooked and the sleeve of his shirt had stretched over his rounded bicep and finally, how his gaze felt like fire on my skin. Whew.
“Another?” he asked from across the room.
I turned to face him now that I’d run out of words to describe the moment and internally scrambled for what might be a good follow-on. Maybe something without touching or I’d be in danger of spontaneous combustion based on the heat simmering in my belly.
I eyed him as he wandered next to my bookshelves, taking in titles I was sure he’d seen before, but again, not minding how he was giving me some time to recover my wits.
“Sure. So… a big one readers love is when the hero cages the heroine in—against a wall or even a counter.”
He stilled at the shelf, pushing in a book with one long finger, and then came toward me. His stride was measured and purposeful, his path as direct as it could be considering an overstuffed chair and a barstool stood in his way. But in seconds, he was in front of me, arms bracketing me with his hands gripping the counter on either side of my body.
He pressed close enough. My back brushed against the countertop, and then our eyes met.
Held…
Locked.
He dipped his head slightly, speaking in a tone that felt like a caress. “Like this?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?” he asked, his voice low and delicious.
Okay, so this man was attractive, but I’d never actually imagined he could be… this way. He was so warm and friendly, but this felt… different. Hotter, yes, but also kind of like he was challenging me. Pushing me almost.
Yes, I wanted to say, so many other things. I could picture his face coming closer, his beard rasping against my skin, his lips scant millimeters from my ear, warm breath rushing down my neck. I could imagine?—
The doorbell rang at a decibel heretofore unexplored by the human ear, and my nervous system exploded in response. I jolted so severely, he set a hand on my arm and squeezed it, then moved to answer the door while I recovered the ability to breathe.
He set the food—ah, yeah, I’d ordered takeout sometime in my former life—in the kitchen and returned to my side.
“You going to make it?”
Hand on my chest, heart still galloping, I laughed. “Maybe? I think eventually I’ll return to a normal BP.”
With a half smile on his lips, he grasped my arm and pressed his index and middle fingers to the thin skin over my pulse at the inside of my wrist. He glanced at his watch on the opposite hand for a few seconds, fully unaware his touch was not assisting in my recovery.
“One-fifty. Take a breath for me.” He let my wrist slip from his warm hand.
I laughed again and rolled my eyes even as my mind screamed has taking someone’s pulse ever been so lethally and destructively hot?!! “Apparently, I’m jumpy.”
His gaze sobered and I knew, I just knew he was thinking about the letters I’d told him about last time we were together, and I was so far from in the mood to go there, I blustered through. “I only ordered enough food for myself, but we could split it?”
I moved to unpack the food before he could bow out—I could feel it coming and I didn’t want him to go yet. How could I make him stay?
But as I settled the dishes on the counter, he interrupted my thoughts. “I can’t stay for dinner, but while I’m here, is there one more quick move I can help you with?”
My stomach flipped and I grinned. “Sure, I can think of something.”