Not Technically Borrowing
Delaney
I blinked. He wanted to talk about me?
Was he joking? Already, I had spilled my guts, telling him more than I'd ever planned.
I wasn't even sure why.
True, he'd been a terrific listener, and I felt lighter than I had all day. But continuing to complain seemed like the worst kind of conceit.
Besides, there wasn't much more to tell. I was broke, stranded, and one towing zone away from becoming a permanent pedestrian.
A knot of dread formed in my stomach. Sooner or later, I'd have to retrieve my car – and pay dearly for it, too.
I'd seen those daily rates, and they weren't cheap.
On the upside, a new round of book royalties would be arriving within weeks, so it wasn't like I had no money coming in.
It just wasn't coming in now, that's all.
Plus, I would need to set up a new bank account – unless I wanted those automatic deposits to become easy withdrawals, courtesy of Mom.
With a self-conscious laugh, I told Maddox, "Trust me, you've already heard the highlights. Or in my case, the lowlights."
But Maddox wasn't laughing. "A question. Why do you call the money borrowed?"
For a long moment, I didn't know how to answer. It suddenly struck me that this was the first time I'd ever stopped to analyze it. "Well, what would you call it?"
"You know what I'd call it." His gaze locked on mine. "Tell me this. Are you expecting to be paid back?"
I almost didn't want to say. "Not really."
"So it's not borrowing."
I took another sip of my latte before admitting, "Maybe not technically."
And yet, that's what Mom always called it – even that time she'd helped herself to my graduation money because, in her words, I didn't yet need it.
The money had been all cash, tucked into greeting cards from friends and family at my extravagant graduation party – a party my parents had paid for, complete with catering and personalized party favors.
The whole thing had been Mom's idea, not mine, and the party itself had cost several times more than the cash tucked into those envelopes.
Looking back, it was utterly ridiculous. But then again, this was exactly the kind of logic my family excelled at.
Afterward, when the guests were long-gone, I spent the rest of the night stewing over the "borrowed" cash – feeling stupidly ungrateful even as I grumbled that I would never see that money again.
That time, I'd been wrong.
A few weeks later, I was paid back. Not by Mom. By Dad. He'd given me the money in secret, telling me that a big family argument wasn't worth the trouble.
He'd made a point to pay in cash, which left no paper trail. And just like always, I'd deposited the money straight into my longstanding bank account, half-forgetting that I wasn't the only one with access.
Probably my mom had forgotten, too. Otherwise, she almost certainly would've tapped that account long before now.
Why, oh why, hadn't I seen this coming?
Or better yet, why hadn't I simply changed banks?
If I had a million dollars, I knew exactly what I'd do. I'd bet every single cent that Tessa had moved her account ages ago – not that Mom would ever "borrow" from her.
I was still lost in the memories when Maddox said, "The point is, why call it borrowing if it's not getting paid back?"
Good question. "Because…well…that's what my mom would call it."
"Yeah, and I can call myself a saint. That doesn't make it true."
I tried for a joke. "So, you're what? A sinner?" As I said it, I could definitely imagine a sin or two that a girl might really enjoy, especially with a guy like him.
But then, he ruined it by saying, "We're not talking about me. We're talking about you."
I sighed. "Be honest. You think I'm stupid."
He shook his head. "No. I don't."
"Well, I'm at least a little stupid."
"How so?"
He was being way too nice. "Oh, come on. I'm twenty-five years old."
"So?"
"So here I am, using the same bank account from grade school."
He shrugged. "Hey, I've got accounts older than that."
I gave him a skeptical look. "Is your mom still on them?"
His lips twitched. "No."
I tried to look smug. "See?"
"All I see is someone who expected her mom to act like family." His voice softened. "There's no shame in that."
My eyes pricked with the sudden threat of tears. "But you think my family's a mess, don't you."
He didn't even hesitate. "Hell, yeah."
I laughed in spite of myself. "So you're not even denying it?"
"No. But if it makes you feel better, I can relate more than you'd think."
I couldn't even imagine. "Don't tell me you're the family trouble-maker, too."
For some reason, this made him laugh. "Delaney, you have no idea."
This was the first time I'd heard him say my name. It felt oddly personal, and a warm shiver crept up my spine. I liked the way he said it, like we'd known each other for a lot longer than a day.
With a teasing smile, I said, "I know I have no idea, because I haven't heard your story yet."
He scoffed. "I doubt that."
I wasn't even sure what he meant. Still, I had to laugh. "Fine. Then prove it. Let's hear this story of yours." As I said it, I lifted my latte for a good, long drink.
Or at least, that was the idea.
Instead, the lid popped off just before the cup reached my lips, sending a cascade of warm vanilla goodness not into my mouth, but down the front of my beige sweater.
I gasped and jerked upright so quickly that a few remaining drops splattered onto my jeans for good measure. For one horrified second, I could only stare at the destruction.
Maddox was already on his feet. "You okay?"
I gave a quick, silent nod before returning my attention to the mess. Damn it. The worst part wasn't even the heat.
It was the fact my sweater was not only wet, but stained, making the entire disaster impossible to ignore.
Perversely, it wasn't lost on me that a small latte would've already been gone – into my stomach, not onto my clothes.
I frowned. Was this some kind of message from the universe?
Even when I ended up with the large, I shouldn't expect to enjoy it?
Maddox's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Are you sure? You're not burned, are you?"
I looked up, meeting his surprisingly concerned gaze. "Nah." I gave a weak laugh. "Good thing I'm a slow drinker." But even as I said it, I realized this didn't quite make sense. Sure, it meant the latte had time to cool. But if I'd guzzled it faster, there would've been nothing to spill.
Yeah, right.
All that meant was that I probably would've spilled my drink earlier while it was still dangerously hot.
Maddox said, "Hang on. I'll get a towel."
I shook my head. "Actually, I'm pretty sure I got all of it on myself."
He frowned. "Right. Thus, the towel."
"Oh." My face grew warm as I confessed, "I thought you meant so you could wipe off the chair."
"Fuck the chair," he said. "I'm worried about you."
I wasn't even sure what surprised me more – the fact he'd just dropped an f-bomb, or the sentiment behind it.
Now my eyes were definitely getting all misty. What the heck was wrong with me, anyway?
Abruptly, I stood, clutching the now-empty cup tighter than I should've. I looked down, noting the lid near my feet. Wincing, I said, "I guess that's one way to end a coffee date."
"What do you mean?" He didn't sound happy.
And then it hit me. Of course. I looked up. "Oh. I didn't mean it was a date-date. I just meant…you know, this is probably my cue to leave."
Funny, he didn't look happy either. "But you're coming back, right?"
The question caught me off guard. "Sorry, what?"
He glanced at my sweater. "You're leaving to change your shirt. Am I right?"
"Um…yeah."
Finally, he smiled. "So what's to stop you from coming back?"
Warmth bloomed in my chest. "Do you really want me to?"
"Hell, yeah." His smile turned to a grin. "The date's not over yet, is it?"
A minute later, I was floating toward the penthouse door – yes, floating – because my impromptu departure was apparently just a brief intermission in what was now very obviously a date.
As Maddox walked me through his incredible living room – amazing view, by the way – and pulled open the door like a true gentleman, I fought a crazy urge to throw myself into his arms and kiss him goodbye.
But that would be ridiculous.
I barely knew him.
And besides, I was planning to come right back. A goodbye kiss was supposed to be at the end of a date, not smack-dab in the middle.
So instead, I settled for a little wave as I pulled the door shut behind me and found myself alone in the quiet corridor.
My empty coffee cup and runaway lid were still out on the balcony because Maddox had insisted he could clean everything up while I dealt with my sweater.
The guy really was full of surprises.
I was still floating when I reached the nearest elevator a short walk away. With a smile, I pressed the down button and was pleasantly surprised when it dinged almost immediately.
My smile faded a moment later when the doors slid open to reveal not an empty elevator, but Mrs. Stelter, looking even less happy to see me than I was to see her.