Danielle #2
“That’s still insane,” Danielle says, “that means you’re one of the best players in the world , not just America.”
“When you put it like that, it really does something for my ego,” Andrew says, grinning. “Not that I needed it.”
“What do you need a fidget for?” she asks, lifting her eyes to his. He suddenly looks unsure of himself, and he pulls his hand back so he can twist the beads around before stuffing it in his pocket.
“It helps me stay grounded,” he offers with a shrug. “I’m going to get to work. ”
He walks away, and she feels like she’s just been given a moment of raw vulnerability from him. She wonders if he thinks they’re even, or if her crying in his arms a few days before made him feel like he could share with her.
Whatever it is, she’s going to keep it close, hold onto it. She wants him to feel safe with her, and she desperately wants to feel safe with him.
In the afternoon, they have a rush that sends Danielle to the stock room more than once to retrieve customer requests.
Andrew has been in and out, too, looking for things that customers assure him “must be in the back”, even though she knows good and well they definitely do not have an Arabic version of The Crucible anywhere in the store.
Anywhere in the state, probably, but that’s neither here nor there.
She’s lucky she’s gotten easy-to-find requests, mostly, and they have had a couple on the backstock shelves that they hadn’t gotten around to putting out.
Like the one she’s reaching for now. She’s not short by any means, and she thought she could grab it without getting the step stool but the copy of The Hunger Games that she needs is just out of reach .
“Oh, come on,” she says, stretching higher on her tiptoes. Her fingers just brush the spine, and she drops back down with a huff.
She feels Andrew before she knows he’s there.
Somehow, in a week, she’s become hyperaware of him. Of the way the air shifts when he moves, of his body heat when it enters her space.
Of how her heart races whenever he locks eyes with her, no matter how briefly it happens.
“I’ll get it,” he says, voice low, breath soft against her ear as he presses the length of his body against her back and reaches for the book. His free hand settles on her waist, thumb drawing a soft circle on her skin where her shirt has ridden up.
Her skin erupts into goosebumps and she takes a step back, shifting further against him. She feels his breath hitch, the strong muscles of his chest against her back and his arm slips around her.
Danielle turns, looks up at him, sets a hand on his chest to steady herself from the heat in his gaze.
“Here,” he says, voice even as he holds the book up for her to take. She wraps her hand around the spine, their fingers brushing, and she doesn’t miss the spark that travels down her arm .
“Thank you,” she replies, a nervous laugh escaping her, “advantage of having a giant hockey player around, I guess.”
“There are others,” Andrew says, not dropping his arm from her waist. He takes a step forward, crowding her space as she presses back against the shelf.
Her hands are stuck between them, one holding the book and the other flat against his chest. She can feel his heartbeat under her fingers, and she knows hers is matching the pace of his.
“Others?” she asks stammering the word, unfamiliar with this Andrew.
He’s been sexy the entire time, you’d have to be blind not to see it.
Now, she can feel what she’s only been able to imagine.
The strong muscles in his chest, the way his hands feel against her skin, soft but assured, and she knows he can see the effect he’s having on her.
She knows her skin is heating and her heart is practically beating out of her chest.
He skims his fingers along her waist, full length of his body pressed up against her. He leans in and if he kisses her she doesn’t think she’ll stop him, even though it’s a terrible idea .
The heady scent of his cologne is fogging up her mind, and the blue of his eyes makes her want to drown in them.
At the last second, he turns his head so his jaw slides against hers, scruff scratching against her cheek in the most delicious way.
“I could show you,” he whispers, voice a rasp in her ear and sending a shot of heat down her spine.
And she’s ready to let him, for goodness sake this man .
She’s not capable of coherent thought, let alone putting voice to how badly she wants to experience what he’s offering.
His fingers slide higher under her shirt, stopping just above her belly button, and she shivers.
“I –” she cuts off, swallowing hard, she grabs the book wither free hand, lifting it between them like a shield. “Customer. Have a customer.”
Andrew jolts back, as if he’s finally remembering where they are, and he gives her space, which she’s desperately in need of.
She darts out of the stock room, hoping that she doesn’t look like the absolute mess he’s made her – without even touching her, like she’s some sort of unexperienced teenager again—and hands the book to the teenager who had asked for it .
The kid doesn’t even end up buying it, leaving it for her to find an hour later on a random shelf in the World War Two section.
Andrew glances her way from the door as he clocks out, heat and desire in his eyes unmistakable, even from across the room.
“I’ll drop Harper off at your house,” he says, then he’s stepping out the door and Cara is coming in and taking stock of Danielle’s appearance.
“What on earth happened to you?” she asks, raising a brow.
Danielle nods in the direction that Andrew just went, voice breathy as she speaks. “He did.”
Danielle closes the store a couple of hours early, since they made their sales for the day, and she heads home. She’s ready for some alone time, and has also been obsessively checking her phone for texts from Andrew to make sure that Harper isn’t being a complete disaster.
Erick had dropped her off after breakfast, and she had sat at her normal table coloring and making a list of books that she wanted to read while she waited for Andrew to be ready to take her for ice cream .
Harper had left without so much as a look back at Danielle, holding Andrew’s hand in hers as they took off down the sidewalk to the ice cream shop. She had texted him her address, and he had replied to tell her that he would drop her off later, but since then she hasn’t heard anything.
It’s only four in the afternoon, and she knows that she would have heard from him if something had come up.
Even though she knows that, she can’t help but be worried that she’ll miss something.
Harper hasn’t been away from her for the last three weeks, and she’s not sure how this is all going to shake out.
When she gets home, it’s only to find Erick waiting on the porch with her parents. The conversation they’re having looks tense, and Danielle is wondering if she can slowly back out of her driveway and escape before they notice.
Just as she puts her car back into reverse, Erick looks up in her direction and waves.
“Shit,” she mutters, throwing her car into park and turning the ignition off. “So much for a bath and Netflix.”
She gets out of her car and heads to her porch, pulling a smile on as she does .
“You three look cozy,” she says, “did some other life-altering event happen while I was at work that all three of you need to tell me about?”
“Where’s Harper?” her mom asks, instead of a hello.
“My… friend,” Danielle says, unsure if that’s what she and Andrew are but reading the room and deciding that’s the better word, “took her for ice cream.”
“A friend?” Erick asks.
“Andrew Fisher,” Danielle answers, unlocking her front door and holding it open so the three of them can step inside. “I’ll grab us some drinks.”
“The NHL player?” her dad asks, eyes wide.
“The same,” Danielle replies, nodding. “He’s been helping out at the bookstore and Harper asked if they could go get ice cream. I said yes, and was hoping to have a night to myself.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” her dad asks. “We heard about what happened in Raleigh a few weeks ago.”
This mysterious thing that Andrew hasn’t told her keeps popping up everywhere, it seems. It must have been a big deal for her parents to have heard about it .
“I trust him,” Danielle says, grabbing a stack of plastic cups, and a pitcher of water from her fridge, “and he loves Harper. I didn’t see the problem.”
“I don’t know if I like this,” Erick says, looking over at Danielle. “I mean, I love the guy, but has he even told you what happened?”
“Bits and pieces,” she shrugs, “it doesn’t matter to me. He’s good at what he does, and he’s really helped us a lot.”
“This won’t take long,” her mom says, taking a seat next to her dad at the table. Eric sits on her dad’s other side.
“We just wanted to let you know that my parents are moving back from Berlin,” Erick says, pouring himself a glass of water. “Temporarily, apparently.”
“They want to take Harper,” Danielle says, sitting in her chair heavily. She’s been meaning to submit adoption paperwork to her lawyer’s office, but hasn’t had the time.
If they think they’re taking Harper, they’ve got another thing coming.
She slides each of them a cup .
“That’s been their goal since you showed them the letter,” Erick says, pouring himself some water. “They’re going to do what they can to get her.”
“She’s not a piece of property,” Danielle says.
“We know,” her father says, “but that’s not going to stop them. You know how ruthless Erick’s parents can be.”
“I remember you being right there with them when I was in high school,” Danielle says, raising a brow.
“People change, Danielle,” her mother says, gently. “We didn’t always do right by you, but we’re trying, and we wanted you to know about Erick’s parents.”
“When are they coming back?” Danielle asks, looking up at Erick for the first time. He’s white as a sheet, and clutching his water with a vice-like grip.