Chapter 24
STEPHANIE
Sitting by Chase wasn’t an option, but I hadn’t thought about where I would want Mallory to sit.
He took the seat next to me, and I’m surprised to find that I feel safer with him there.
I don’t have time to figure out why that is, but less than twenty-four hours ago, that would not have been the case.
Alyssa continues to squeeze my hand under the table while McKay goes over details and timelines. She chimes in when needed, but for the most part, she lets him take the lead.
My goal was to remain as silent as I could; I have no desire to talk to Chase.
“Steph, what do you think of all of this?” Chase is looking at me.
“I think McKay and Alyssa have everything squared away and can’t think of anything to add.”
Chase nods his head in agreement. “As always, they do a great job.” He reaches over and gives McKay a fist bump. I’d forgotten Chase was a big fist-bump guy—he’s already done it twice today—and try to hide my strained smile. It used to be so unassuming and charming.
In my peripheral, I notice Mallory looking at me.
No, not looking—scrutinizing. I glance over, and our eyes lock.
His eyes ask if I’m alright. I’m not sure how I know that, as his face doesn’t betray any emotion, but somehow I do.
Why is he concerned about me? He’s unaware of my history with Chase, and so far, this meeting has gone fine—far from the disaster I thought it would be.
I give him a small smile to reassure him, then—without thinking—reach over and squeeze his hand under the table. Realizing what I’ve done, I freeze. Unfortunately, I freeze in the middle of squeezing his hand, so now we’re just holding hands.
His thumb briefly brushes against my knuckle, and my body ignites in flames.
And we’re still looking at each other.
And I still have a hold of his hand under the table.
My heart is pounding, and my grip tightens in response. My breathing is shallow before I finally let go.
The entire encounter lasted maybe three seconds, but my nervous system doesn’t always run on Central Standard Time and clocks the sensation at four or five hours.
What. Was. That?
I try to mentally return to the lighting-and-sound conversation going on around me, but I can’t focus on anything they’re saying. My mind is trapped in that brief clasp, and my hand twitches with the desire to reach back and replicate it.
Chase directs his next question to me, and I try to arrange my face in a way that will hide the fact that my body completely overreacted to a simple knuckle rub. “What will the stage be like? I’ve never been to The Whitmore, and I’m wondering what kind of space we’ll have.”
Mallory quickly clears his throat, pulling my attention to his neck.
Have I ever noticed a man’s Adam’s apple before?
I don’t think so, but Mallory’s is spectacular.
I’ve never thought about how to describe that piece of anatomy, but if I looked up “masculine Adam’s apple” in the dictionary, there would only be a three-word definition: see Cooper Mallory’s.
“Profile is the name of the company handling all other aspects of the evening,” Mallory says while leaning slightly forward—which only makes his neck look more attractive—“and they emailed that to everyone last week.” He addresses Chase directly.
“It also has the information about lighting you were asking about.”
“Cooper, I have that diagram pulled up.” Alyssa turns her laptop around to show everyone.
“Chase, I looked over your current equipment list, and it looks like you’re doing a stripped-down set.
This will be an ideal space for you. It’s obviously smaller than the venues you’ve been playing at recently, but it’s the size you’ve always liked the most: a little more intimate.
” Chase smiles and nods his head in approval.
After thirty more minutes of questions about logistics, McKay stands and begins gathering his things. We all take this as our cue and stand up as well. It looks like the meeting’s going to adjourn.
Alyssa takes hold of my hand. “McKay and I have done a lot of events at The Whitmore, but they’ve all been since you left for Boston. Do you want to meet us over there tomorrow and take a tour?”
Professionally, I don’t care one way or the other, as I have no formal assignments for the fundraiser, but I’d love any chance to be with Alyssa. “Sure. Sounds nice.”
“I’d love to go too.” Chase was obviously listening. “Steph, I can come pick you up if you’d like. Where are you staying?”
Mallory quickly stands up. “No need. She’s staying next to me, so we can ride over together.”
Why does Mallory want to go?
And something in his tone—and in his quick response to Chase—makes him seem jumpy. Why?
He doesn’t know that I had Alyssa and McKay help ensure that Chase didn’t sit by me, or that I never would have come if Chase hadn’t hinged his acceptance on my presence—both here and at the fundraiser.
And he doesn’t know that McKay is about to keep Chase occupied so that I can get out of here without having to speak with him.
But with the meeting wrapping up, I realize that Chase wasn’t the threat I thought he’d be. Mallory, however, is a different story!
Why does my body keep reacting to him in such dramatic ways? I need to get a grip! While he might not be the playboy I thought he was, there are still reasons I need to keep my distance—no matter how distracting the slight movement of his thumb over my knuckle was.
So—for now—I need to remember that Mallory is still an enemy, though for a completely different reason than he was before.