Chapter 15
Ihad to admit, the Great Post-Date Crying Jag had thrown me for a hot minute. The next morning over coffee, I tried to analyze the whys behind it. The tears weren’t about Ethan. At least, I didn’t think they were. They were more about my own release. A bodily recognition of that milestone moment.
I’d done it. I’d gone on a date.
And I’d managed to survive.
Talking about it had been one thing. Being ready for it was another. But actually doing it? That had unleashed a flood of emotions. I’d taken a proverbial step off a proverbial cliff. And managed to land on my feet.
Well, up until the end.
And maybe it was because I’d had that catharsis that I was nowhere near as nervous for my lunch with Ray as I had been for my date with Ethan.
I didn’t want to overthink anything. Except I overthought it.
Then again, that was my thing. I had to wonder which difference was making this easier.
It could be as simple as having done the go-on-a-date thing once, so the emotional edge had worn off.
It could be that the late-night weeping had drained me so much I didn’t have it in me to be nervous anymore.
Or maybe it was the venue, which was already familiar.
Or the fact that it was during the day, in a more casual setting.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was the guy.
It wasn’t fair, but I had to take that into account.
Ethan and me being something close to romantic?
Everything about that was new. But slipping into intimate time with Ray was like slipping on my favorite silk nightgown.
Granted, I didn’t have a silk nightgown.
But I imagined this was what it felt like.
Comfortable, with just the right amount of luxuriousness.
On the other hand, Ray had no idea about the Cupid nonsense, and Ethan did.
That knowledge had helped him rationalize what he felt or didn’t feel.
Ray, on the other hand, was probably going to wonder why I’d been no more enticing to him than a slice of white bread on Friday morning but exciting enough to send flowers to on Friday afternoon.
I hadn’t worked up the nerve to directly ask Ethan how he’d felt during our date.
He’d also sent flowers, so I knew there’d been a change.
And I’d seen it in his eyes. They’d light up one moment, then grow dim the next.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I'd certainly caught the vibe that we weren’t fully “there” together.
Even if he had swooped in at the end of the night for a mega-not-goodnight kiss.
Maybe that was why I’d evaded it.
Cecelia seemed more invested in my date with Ray, too.
A calf-length, loose skirt with pretty purple flowers was waiting on my bed when I got out of the shower.
She’d paired it with a complementing blouse that hugged my waist and dipped low at the neck.
It had long sleeves, which told me she was paying more attention to the weather than I was.
It was always a few degrees cooler at Illusion Square anyway, thanks to the Mighty Oak.
She had everything else I needed waiting on a table by the front door.
Oh, and she’d set a table by the door for my stuff.
The purse was just large enough for a wallet, lip gloss for touch-ups, and a tin of breath mints.
Apparently, she thought I was gonna do more kissing today than I had last night.
Finally, she’d spread out jewelry, including a small gold chain with a cross. That last one was definitely weird. I wasn’t a particularly religious person, nor was I the kind to wear a cross. But if I’d learned nothing else, it was that I should always trust Cecelia.
Ray was rounding the corner of the house at about the time I hit the bottom of the stairs.
He looked up, and our eyes held. There was a mixture of tension and confusion on his face, furrowing his brow deeply, as if I were a stressful puzzle he was trying unsuccessfully to solve.
My heart went out to him. Having an outside party mess with your emotions was bad enough. Not knowing about it was even worse.
But I didn’t want to linger on it. We’d already been staring in silence for a good thirty seconds. If I let myself get lost in thought, we’d stand here for hours. And boy howdy, was he easy to stare at.
The man made jeans look like a second skin.
Instead of the usual scuffed boots he wore when he was working, he had a nice pair of dark sneakers.
On Clouds. I stifled the laugh that flitted to my lips.
The personal trainer that my ex-husband Jeff had cheated on me with wore On Clouds.
And I’d vomited all over them when I caught them in bed together.
He’d ditched his working man’s polo for a soft T-shirt in olive green. At least it looked soft. So much so that I fiddled with my necklace to keep from touching him. It should have been too casual, but it worked. And the way the olive green made the jade of his eyes stand out was just unfair.
“You look nice,” I said. He didn’t respond at first. His mouth hung open, the lips tugging upward, as if he was trying to speak and smile simultaneously. He looked like a goldfish, with wild eyes darting about in search of his water bowl. “The polite response would be, so do you.”
He barked out a laugh, immediately covering his mouth with his hands, eyes wide with surprise.
Taking a risk, I moved forward to give him a light hug.
There was a day’s worth of stubble across his chin, and it latched onto my hair as we separated.
Ray extricated my strands, tucking them behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek. “You look perfect.”
Then, as quickly as his eyes had softened, they went blank again.
His nostrils flared. Oh, no. Should I have taken more of Cecelia’s hint and popped one of those breath mints before I greeted him?
I wanted to find a surreptitious way to check my breath but couldn’t think of how. I’d brushed my teeth.
I think.
This was weird. So weird. We’d had our moments, but nothing had ever been this tense with Ray. Only an hour ago, I’d been marveling at how not nervous I was. But now there was a pool of sweat at my low back and a blush of heat across my neck.
We were still standing at the foot of my stairs. Still staring at each other. Well, I was staring at him. I had no idea what he was looking at.
“Ray?” I touched his arm. He jolted, shoving both hands in his pockets.
And though I couldn’t explain why, that small rejection broke a little part of me.
So much so that I wanted to give him an out.
If he didn’t want to be here, truly didn’t want to see me, I was gonna honor that.
“Are you feeling all right? If you need to cancel—”
“No!” He yelled the word, stepping backward as if he needed space between us. The air around him shimmered, prompting me to take my own step back. His wolf was coming out, and for whatever reason, it was being aggressive about it.
Unfortunately, my step back meant I jammed the back of my heel into the base of my stairs. I let out a curse, angling my leg to check for a cut. Boy, having backwards feet would come in handy right about now. Lucky Nina.
Cecelia had chosen cute little ankle boots for me, so the damage was minimal. To my body. My pride was in major pain. Ray chuckled, leaning down to take my leg. “It’s a good thing your mother didn’t name you Grace.”
It was an old joke. One we’d shared during our summer together, when I tripped anywhere and everywhere. I’d gotten marginally better at spatial awareness since then. But not much. Still, the joke flipped some sort of internal switch for him.
“It looks okay.” He released my leg and stood up to face me. And there he was. All Ray again, with a tender smile and wild hair. “I’m sorry. I’ve been edgy for a few months. I haven’t quite figured out why.”
Well, damn. I knew why.
He intertwined our fingers, guiding me around the house. We walked to the street in silence, and once we were on the sidewalk, he released my hand. It was overcast, the clouds forming a threat of rain. Not boobicane levels or anything, but I was so glad Cecelia had given me an umbrella.
By the time we reached Illusion Square, Ray was just Ray. A steady flow of conversation had settled between us. It wasn’t exactly deep talk, but it was a good start.
I was already getting better at this dating thing. At least, I thought so, until it ended in chaos.