Chapter Eighteen
Pepper
I have walked to work nearly every day for years, but walking down the brick-paved sidewalks with Clay and my colleagues feels a little like I’ve been plunked down in an alternate universe. As shocked and happy as I am that Clay is here, Charlottesville is my safe space, and Ravi, Min, and Chris are my people. We may not socialize outside work much, but we work so many hours, I probably spend more time with them than most married couples spend together. We make a good team, and I don’t want anything to upend that.
I’m anxious as we settle around the table, hoping dinner won’t be awkward, but conversation comes easily, and I’m reminded of all the reasons I’m drawn to Clay. He’s funny and interesting, and he makes everyone feel special. Those were some of the same reasons I shied away from him before Paris. Now that I know who he is, I see his efforts are genuine. I like that he’s taking the time to get to know my friends as we eat, asking about their families and the work they’re doing. But there’s no missing the handful of people who are stealing glances at him, some of them whispering. I guess that’s what happens when you’re a professional quarterback in a college town where people live and breathe football. It makes me a little uncomfortable, and I do my best to ignore it. I can’t imagine what it feels like for Clay, but to his credit, his attention never strays from our group.
Throughout dinner, his leg brushes mine, and he holds my hand under the table. I missed those simple touches, and they leave me wanting more.
After dinner, he picks up the tab, and I’m a bundle of live wires, anxious to be alone with him as we walk back to the office. The approving glances I catch from Ravi only make me more nervous. When we get to the parking lot, Ravi, Chris, and Min thank him again for dinner and say their goodbyes.
As they head for their cars, Clay turns to me. “We did good, Reckless. I don’t think they suspect I’m your boy toy.”
I laugh. I missed how easily he makes me smile and laugh, too.
“Seriously, they’re great, and they obviously have nothing but respect for you. I hope you know I’d never do anything to jeopardize that.”
“I appreciate that.” As I say it, I realize there’s something else I need to know. “Does Dash know you’re here?”
“No. Why?”
“My sisters have been asking about us. I didn’t tell them about Paris, and I just don’t want to deal with their gossip or pressure. Would you mind not mentioning it to Dash until we know what this is?”
“I already know what this is, but sure.” He nods toward the office. “Do you need to go back up to your office to finish up?”
I always have work to do, but he came all this way to see me, and I want to spend more time with him. I consider going up to get the roses but decide to leave them there so I can see them tomorrow. “No.”
“Then I’ll walk you to your car.”
“It’s not here. I don’t like driving at night, so I usually walk to work.”
“Really? What bothers you about driving at night?”
“Nothing in particular. I’ve never liked it, and I only live a few blocks away.”
His brows knit. “What do you do when it snows?”
“I wear boots.”
He laughs and looks around. “Is it safe to walk alone at night here?”
“I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t.”
“Okay, Pep. What are we dealing with here? Does riding in other people’s cars at night bother you?”
“Not at all.”
“Well, then, Dr. Montgomery, may I drive you home?” He offers his arm.
“I’d like that very much, Mr. Braden.” I take his arm, and he leads me toward a black Land Rover.
“This is a great location. I noticed your company name isn’t on the directory, and you don’t have a sign in your reception area. Did you just move in?”
You really do notice every little thing.
“No, we’ve been here for a while. I’ll get a sign for the reception area eventually. I was sort of dropped and running when we moved in and just haven’t gotten back to looking for one. As far as the directory goes, I got tired of hounding the property manager to get my company name on it. But it’s not that big a deal. We don’t get many visitors. Did you have trouble finding my suite?”
“Not really. I just went door to door asking if anyone knew where I could find the hot scientist I slept with in Paris.”
I laugh and climb into his Land Rover. It’s clean and luxurious, and it smells like leather and Clay . I give him directions, and a few minutes later we’re parked in front of my cozy two-bedroom historic home.
He helps me out of the vehicle and puts a hand on my back as we head up to the front porch. “This is cute. I like the yellow.”
“Thanks. I would’ve preferred more land, but housing is expensive here, and there’s no place with land in walking distance to the office.” The neighboring houses are not much more than a car width away, and my backyard is tiny. My nerves prickle as we ascend the porch steps, and I focus on unlocking the door instead of on how much I want to kiss him. “I’m lucky to have found this place. The alternative was a condo. They don’t have many windows, and there’s no yard. I would feel like I was living at work.” I realize I’m rambling and make myself stop.
“Am I making you nervous?”
I put my keys in my bag and face him. “Is it that obvious?”
“Adorably so.” He puts his arms around me and kisses my forehead. “I enjoyed getting to know your friends and spending time with you. Thanks for fitting me in.”
“Thank you for driving all this way even though I told you I was too busy to see you, and for bringing me flowers and paying for everyone’s dinner.”
“I’d pay for dinner for everyone in this town if it meant I got to spend time with you.” He kisses me softly. “I’ve missed your lips.” His mouth finds mine again, lingering longer, kissing me deeper. He draws away slowly, whispering, “So sweet, Reckless,” and kisses me more demandingly. God , I’ve missed kissing him. Desire builds hot and insistent inside me. I go up on my toes, taking more. He tightens his hold on me, making a greedy sound that steals my ability to think. I cling to him, feeling like a champagne bottle ready to pop, and grind against his erection. Without breaking our connection, I reach for the doorknob, ready to drag him inside, but he tears his mouth away.
A needy sound rushes from my lungs.
He smiles, his lips too far away as he says, “Good night, beautiful.”
It takes me a second to realize he’s descending the porch steps. “You’re leaving ?”
“Yeah.” He hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to stay at my place.”
“You have a place ?” I have definitely entered an alternate reality.
“You said we lived too far apart, so I’m staying nearby.” His brows slant. “You didn’t think I came here just to sleep with you, did you?”
“You don’t want to sleep with me?” My words come out stilted and confused.
“Of course I do. But rule number one for getting a woman to fall for you is to always leave her wanting more. Sleep tight, sweetheart. I’ll be in touch.” He heads for his Land Rover.
Fall for you?
Dumbfounded, I watch him drive away, fully expecting him to turn around and tell me he’s only kidding and rush back to me. I don’t know how long I stand there waiting for the headlights to reappear, but it’s long enough for the lust to clear from my head and embarrassment to settle in. I look at my neighbors’ houses, hoping they didn’t witness me practically climbing Clay like a tree.
After failing to distract myself with work, television, and ice cream, I’m lying in bed, wearing Clay’s jersey, overthinking. I can’t believe he’s here in Charlottesville, much less that he just left me on the porch. Why would he leave if he’s here just for the night? Even if he’s here for the weekend, wouldn’t he want this time together? In Paris he wanted more time with me, not less. I can’t make sense of it. Is he waiting for me to ask him to come back?
Ohmygod. I’m such an idiot. Of course he is! He made a monumental effort. Now it’s my turn.
I grab my phone and thumb out a text. Do you want to come over? That makes me sound desperate. I delete it and type, What are you up to? That sounds too buddyish. I start over. Dinner was great. Are you hungry for dessert?
Ugh. I delete the cheesy offer.
I officially suck at text flirting when not prompted by him.
I thumb out, I had a great time tonight. Want to make it even better? That sounds cheesy, too. I go through a half dozen more bad iterations and finally settle on something that feels less pushy.
Me: Hi.
Clay: Hi beautiful. Thinking of me?
Me: Overthinking.
Clay: I’m a lot to think about.
Me: Yes you are .
Me: What are you doing?
Clay: Working off some pent-up energy.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard, and I debate texting, I can help you with that .
A picture pops up of him wearing shorts and a T-shirt, taken in a mirror at a gym. He left me to go work out? That doesn’t make me feel very good.
Me: I didn’t know gyms were open this late.
Clay: It’s a home gym .
Me: You mean at the hotel?
Clay: No. I’m renting a house. It has a full gym.
He rented a whole house for the weekend? I guess that’s what you do when you’re a big-time quarterback.
Me: Are you really here just to see me?
Clay: Yes.
Clay: You said you were too busy for a long-distance relationship. Now we’re in the same town.
Clay: You can get your work done and when you have downtime I’ll be right around the corner.
Shocked, I read his messages again. He did that for me. For me . After I tried to end things. Twice . That takes a minute to process, and happiness blooms inside me.
Me: How long are you here?
Clay: However long it takes.
My pulse quickens.
Me: Takes for what?
Clay: For you to realize we’re more than a weekend fling.