Chapter 11. We Were Both （Not） Moving in Sync
CHAPTER 11
We Were Both (Not) Moving in Sync
Alec’s initial plan of leaving the party early was flushed down the toilet almost instantly. He spent the evening talking to too many people, and we ended up staying for over three hours. By the time we walked out into the cool night air, he was more than a little tipsy.
“You’re not driving. In you go.” Opening the passenger door for him, I pried the keys out of his hands. I bent down and reached across the passenger seat to buckle him up, ignoring the delicious feel of his solid body beneath mine. “How much food have you had tonight?”
He peered at me from under his eyelashes, looking indignant. “A lot, if you must know. I ate three of those mini shrimp thingies.” He held up two fingers to emphasize. “Three.”
“That’s it? No wonder the alcohol is partying in your body. Next time eat first, then go forth and network. Got that?”
“Yes, ma’am. The shrimp thingies were soooo yummy.” He yawned, then audibly sniffed. “Ooh, you smell yummy. Like a bouquet of flowers.”
My breath caught when he leaned forward, his nose nuzzling the sides of my neck.
“Is it roses? Lavender? Tulips?” He wriggled underneath me a little, and I stopped breathing when his lips made the lightest contact with the dip in between my collarbones.
I ignored him and pulled away before one of us—my bets were on me—lost our mind. Slamming his door, I took a deep breath before getting into the driver’s side.
“Roses, lavender, and tulips are now my favorite flowers,” he announced, his words slurring. “Hey, where are we going?”
“Home, Alec. Party’s over. We’re going home.”
He shifted in his seat to peer at me. “You’re cute. Have I ever told you that? C-U-T-E. Cuuuuuuteeeeeee.”
My heart jumped a mile high, because he had never said anything like that to me before. But my rational brain took over, telling me to squash any absurd thoughts immediately, since he wasn’t himself, and the alcohol was obviously flirting on his behalf.
So I only chuckled, hoping it sounded cool and casual, while I eased his car into the queue of vehicles leaving the Goodwin mansion. Sober Alec might be grouchy and annoying, but drunk Alec was downright adorable. “Well, Kim thinks you’re cute.”
Another yawn answered me. “Kimwho?”
“My next-door neighbor at the shop. You’ve met her, remember?”
My reply was a deafening silence. Alec was already asleep, his mouth slightly open, snoring softly, and his head slouching to the side. His suit jacket was draped over his lap, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, showing off some impressive forearms. I drove back to his house; the only audible sounds were of his steady breathing, Taylor Swift on the radio, and the gears of my brain turning.
The past three hours only confirmed that I was completely unequipped to be in a pretend relationship with this man. At least, if I wanted to emerge from this with my heart unscathed. Right now, at the rate I was going, I’d come out the other side bruised and battered; an even worse repeat of ten years ago.
What I needed was a solid plan. A detailed list to keep me on track, resist his charms, and focus on the bigger picture: getting the bakery up and running ASAP. Yes, that’s it. The first thing I had to do once we got home was to work on that lifesaving plan.
Alec was still out cold when I pulled up at the house. Opening his door, I gave him a gentle poke. He groaned, then turned his face to the other side to dodge my nudging. I briefly considered leaving him in the car the whole night, but unfortunately my parents had raised me better than that.
“You owe me big time, Sir Grouchiness.”
I took a deep breath to prepare myself for the challenging task ahead, then dragged him out of the car, nearly buckling under his solid weight. Good thing I was stronger than I look—all those early morning runs had prepped me for this. It took me ten minutes to finally get him inside the house, up the stairs, and into his room.
“Okay, sleeping beauty. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
I pushed his door open and flicked on the lights. My guest bedroom was bathed in light colors, but his room was the complete opposite. The walls were painted gray, and artsy black-and-white pictures decorated the room. Two bedside drawers flanked the dark-framed king-size bed, covered with a gray blanket and white pillows. It was neat, fuss-free, and it fit him to a T.
I guided him toward the bed and dumped him unceremoniously onto it. Alec continued to snore, with his hands spread wide at his sides. Staring at his unmoving figure, I once again contemplated leaving him be, but he looked uncomfortable lying on his back with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, and he obviously needed help to get out of his formal attire.
Somewhere at the back of my brain, a wise voice warned me this might not be a good idea. Still, my feet propelled me toward his drawer, where I pulled out a white T-shirt and an old pair of gray sweatpants.
“Here we go,” I mumbled.
First his shoes came off, followed by his socks. Then I undid his shirt, my eyes concentrating hard on each button, because the temptation to stray and stare at his chest was too enormous. I worked as fast as humanly possible, pulling and tugging at his sleeves, until I finally slipped the shirt off him.
I took a long, steadying breath before tackling the next piece of clothing.
Unbuckling his belt was the easy bit. Unzipping the pants, then pulling them off his long legs, while doing my best to ignore the intriguing bulge under his black trunks, was the tricky part. Then, although I’d never live it down if he found out, I paused to admire the glorious view that was almost-naked Alec.
Kim was wrong, because he was anything but cute. He was gorgeous . A beautiful male specimen who was even more attractive now than the young Alec I had crushed on ages ago, because underneath his grouchy exterior, there was gentleness and kindness, and a hidden vulnerability that I’d never seen before.
Which was why, as soon as I was done covering him with some clothes, I had to get started on that Stay on Track Plan.
Alec stirred, reminding me to get on with the job. Picking up the T-shirt, I lifted his upper body and slipped it over his head. It was no easy feat juggling his weight with one hand and putting his T-shirt on with the other, while simultaneously trying not to ogle his chest.
“Ellie?”
He groaned, his eyes drifting open.
I froze.
“What are you doing?” His sleepy gaze swept over me.
Fuckity fuck fuck fuckkkk. I was bent over him, with one hand underneath his head and the other tangled in the T-shirt around his neck. His eyes were still bleary, but they were fixed on me, unblinking. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I sucked in a breath.
I didn’t know if I was the one lowering my face down to his, or if he was the one lifting his face up toward mine, but it seemed like we were both moving in sync, with the exact same goal in mind, and nothing else in the world mattered but that.
Except it was all, apparently, only a wild imagination in my head.
At the very last second, before our lips touched, sense must have kicked into him, because his eyes suddenly turned wide at the sight of me looming over him. There was a low “Oh, fuck” and then I was flipped on the bed, followed by Alec rushing to stand upright. Those green eyes were now staring at me, clear and unmistakably horrified, as his hands worked furiously to cover himself with the T-shirt and sweatpants.
“I’m so, so sorry.” He took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. “That should never have happened. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Well, maybe he didn’t, because he was drunk. But I was 100 percent sober, and I was mortified. Beyond belief. What was wrong with me? I was all but begging him to kiss me, for fuck’s sake.
Clearly, nothing had changed: my crush had returned with a vengeance; but he was the same Alec who wanted nothing to do with me. The only reason he was being nice was because Eric had asked him to keep an eye on me. After all, that was his lifelong MO: looking after his family after his dad left, and now, looking out for his best friend’s little sister. Kissing him, or worse, falling for him— again —would be beyond foolish, because I’d be serving my heart on a silver platter, practically begging him to stomp all over it. It was clear as day, and I didn’t even need a pros and cons list to know that it was the worst idea in the world: falling for him twice in my lifetime was a big, fat, capital HELL NO.
“You don’t have to apologize.” I got up, not meeting his eyes. “Nothing happened, right? I should go. See you in the morning.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
I went around him and opened the door. And without another glance, I disappeared behind it, ready for the floor to swallow me whole.