8. Xander
EIGHT
Xander
“Willow.” I smirk, watching her closely. “Good to see you again. After our disastrous dinner.”
Julian’s brows lift. Gabe shifts beside him, subtle but not subtle enough to miss.
Right.
I haven’t told them. I didn’t plan to. But there’s no point pretending now. Not when she’s standing here, in the middle of my house. She’s the one thing I haven’t been able to get out of my head all damn week.
My gaze drops involuntarily, tracking the curve of her body. Her jeans cling to her, made for her and no one else. Soft, full hips, thighs that make a tight and demanding sensation unfurl deep in my chest.
I feel it, a pulse of heat in my blood that spreads, quick and unrelenting. The apron tied around her waist makes it worse, cinching her in, calling attention to the exact place my hands have been thinking about more than I care to admit.
And her shirt…
Christ.
It clings to her as a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. My jaw tightens, a raw, restless hunger flickering beneath the surface, clawing at me. She doesn’t even try. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me. Or maybe she does and just doesn’t care. Either way, it’s dangerous.
I drag my gaze back up to her face, but it’s worse this close.
Her skin is flushed from the cold outside, a faint warmth radiating off her.
The freckles on her nose should be innocent, but they just make me want to trace them with my lips.
Her mouth tightens because she’s holding something back, biting down on whatever she wants to say.
But it’s her eyes that have me, the way they lock with mine, daring me to take another step. My heart skips, pounding hard enough I feel it in my throat. Her gaze hits me as a physical thing, jarring me, pulling me in, and I can’t fucking look away.
Willow freezes for half a second before she recovers, turning toward me fully, the tension in her body shifting.
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it disastrous,” she says coolly, and there’s that fire in her voice, flickering behind the sarcasm. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”
I step further into the room. It’s a decision, an irreversible one.
“I was. Up until the part where my date disappeared.”
Julian lets out an entertained breath. Gabe’s attention sharpens.
Willow’s expression tightens, irritation flashing in her eyes. She crosses her arms defensively.
Bad fucking idea.
It pushes everything up, and I can’t look away. My eyes drop to her chest again. I feel my body react. That heat spreads lower now, tight and undeniable. My muscles tense. There’s a pulse beneath my skin that I can’t ignore. Every nerve is alive and straining in her direction.
“I didn’t want to sit there while a group of strangers treated you like some kind of exhibit. It was weird.”
“You could’ve told me that,” I say, edged with the need that’s been simmering inside me.
Her eyes snap to mine. “Right. Because men like you are famously great at hearing no.”
Julian huffs out a laugh at that, but I don’t move my gaze from Willow.
Gabe doesn’t react, but I can feel his eyes darting between us, sensing something, sensing the electricity that’s overwhelming enough to choke on.
Willow’s already braced for the response she expects. Pushback, ego, correction. I see it in the way her shoulders hold, preparing for impact. But she’s wrong.
I don’t give her the expected. I let the moment breathe.
“You’re not wrong,” I say, letting the words drop purposefully.
Her whole body stills just enough for me to notice. Her eyes flicker. Not just confusion. There’s a depth there that tightens between us.
I hold her stare, and it’s worse up close. The heat in me is almost unbearable now. The way her skin flushes, the way her lips twitch with tension, the way her body speaks to me… I can’t ignore it. I can’t hide it.
I want her. Damn, I want her.
“I should’ve handled that better,” I continue, even though my heart’s fucking racing in my chest. “You didn’t ask for that kind of attention, and I didn’t give you a way out of it. I should’ve left with you. So I’m very sorry for that. It wasn’t good.”
Julian goes quiet.
Gabe’s eyes flick to me. He knows I have sky-high walls around me. He knows I’m about to say more.
But Willow looks at me, seeing a different side.
“You’re apologizing?” she asks, disbelief rising in her voice.
“Yes.”
She doesn’t seem to know what to do with that, her arms loosening, her stance softening, but not entirely. She’s still on edge. I could push, but I won’t. Not this time.
“Okay,” she says after a beat. She’s still trying to decide whether to believe it or not. “Well. Apology accepted. But, um… now I need to go. Work calls.”
She turns, already stepping back toward the door.
Julian moves before she can get far. “Absolutely not.”
She stops, blinking at him, confused. “Excuse me?”
“We just paid for all that food,” he says, gesturing toward the kitchen. “You can’t just drop it off and leave.”
“That’s exactly what I’m supposed to do.”
“Not tonight. It’s way too much for all of us.”
“Then why did you order it all?”
Julian spreads his hands, a shrug. “Because we could.”
“That’s not a real answer.
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
She looks deeply unimpressed, and I think she might turn around and walk out just to prove a point. But I know better.
Gabe smiles a little. “It’s already here. You might as well sit for five minutes, eat something, then go.”
“I have other deliveries,” she replies, but the hesitation is there now, just a hint.
That’s where I step in. My move. I don’t even look at her when I say it.
“You don’t.”
Her head snaps toward me, eyes narrowing, trying to figure out if I’m bluffing. But there’s more in her eyes. A challenge. The knowledge that she feels it too. The tension. The pull. The impossible desire that wraps around both of us.
“I do.”
I pull out my phone, already dialing before she can argue further.
She sees it, and her eyes flicker with irritation. She reaches for the phone, but I hold it just out of her grasp. The charged tension crackles between us.
“Don’t.”
I don’t stop.
“Redemption Diner, Lara speaking. How can I help you?”
“This is Xander Harlow,” I say. “Willow’s on delivery tonight.”
“Oh, yes,” Lara says quickly. “She is.”
“She’s done for the night,” I continue, keeping my tone even. “I’ll cover the shift. Double whatever she would’ve made.”
Willow moves toward me, reaching for the phone. “Give me that…”
I shift just enough to keep it out of reach without turning physical or dramatic, keeping my attention on the call rather than her.
Lara laughs softly. “Well, in that case, she’s absolutely done for the night. Bobby’s in now, anyway.”
“Appreciate it.”
I end the call before she can get a word in. The silence after that settles in, heavy and thick with unspoken words.
“You didn’t just do that,” she says.
“I did.”
“You don’t get to call my workplace and decide I’m done working.”
“I didn’t decide,” I reply, hiding the fact that everything inside me is tense and stretched too thin. “I arranged it.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It’s more efficient.”
Her jaw tightens, frustration in her eyes, but beneath it, there’s more. I can see it. I can feel it. The crack in her armor.
“Efficient,” she repeats. “Right. Of course it is. Just throw money at the problem and it magically disappears.”
I hold her gaze, watching the shift, the way she doesn’t look away. The way she’s still here, even with everything hanging between us. And I know, without a doubt, that I’ve just removed the last excuse she had.
“You’re still free to leave,” I tell her.
That gives her pause. It’s not what she expected, not what she was braced for.
“I just removed the reason you had to.”