Chapter 6
Chapter Six
COLT
My apartment is dim except for the soft flicker of Thursday Night Football on the TV.
I’m not watching it.
The sound’s on low, just background noise to make the place feel less empty.
Diesel—my cat—is sprawled across my chest like a 12-pound weighted blanket with whiskers.
He purrs, loudly. Clearly oblivious to the fact that my brain is trying to replay every second of Vestry Bar like it’s game film.
Elena.
Her dress.
Her scent on my coat.
Her asking about my dreams. God, no one’s asked me that in years.
The way she looked at me when I said I wanted to coach. Like I wasn’t totally insane for having dreams.
Of course there was the part where she divulged some very personal fantasies that I had to fight like hell not to picture so I wouldn’t get embarrassingly turned on in the bar.
And then Mark showing up and having to cut short the convo about what she likes.
In bed.
Hands? Oh, I have hands.
I sigh and rub Diesel’s back. “She’s got a date, buddy. And I’m too young for someone like her. Don’t look at me like that.”
Diesel blinks, judgmental.
I stare at the ceiling.
I’m twenty-seven.
She’s thirty-nine.
She’s successful, and put together.
She’s smart, and funny as hell.
And she shouldn’t be thinking about me.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her.
I close my eyes.
Just then, my phone buzzes.
I jolt upright. Diesel complains, offended, and relocates to the foot of the bed.
I grab my phone.
Elena: Date was a dud. Major dud. Thanks again for the wine. And my ID.
Elena: Also…somebody left THIS behind.
A photo appears.
My credit card.
On her kitchen counter.
My stomach drops.
Colt: Shit. Seriously? I didn’t even notice.
Elena: Yep. You must’ve pulled it out when you paid. I asked the waiter to run back outside with it, but you were already gone.
I sit there, stunned.
She chased after me?
Colt: I must’ve been moving fast.
Elena: You Irish-goodbyed your own date-that’s-not-a-date. Bold move.
I rub my hand over my face.
Colt: You didn’t have to grab it. Thank you.
Elena: Of course I did. Consider it even for the badge…Unless you want me to bring it to you?
I stare at that message longer than is normal.
Longer than is good.
Diesel head-butts my arm.
“I know,” I mutter. “I know.”
She’s offering.
She’d literally come all the way to my place with my card.
At eleven o’clock at night.
Dangerous.
Stupid.
Tempting.
I type slowly:
Colt: It’s late. You shouldn’t be running around the city.
I can get it from you this weekend, I think.
Stupid. But what else am I going to say? ‘Yeah just come right over.’ No chance I’d be able to keep my hands to myself in that scenario.
She overreacts, in the cutest possible way:
Elena: No no no no that’s weird omg ignore me why did I offer that I’m in pajamas never mind never mind
I laugh. Out loud.
Diesel lifts his head, offended by the noise.
Colt: Pajamas, huh?
Elena: Stop.
Colt: Stop? Also how does Tuesday work? Just give it to me then.
Elena: Yeah. Everything. Also stop being hot.
I freeze.
Hot?
She backpedals instantly:
Elena: NOT flirting. Just stating facts. :) :) :). I’ve had wine. Can you tell?
God.
She’s going to ruin me.
Elena: Tuesday works for me. Unless, you know, you have any really important transactions coming up.
I stare at that message.
She’s joking.
Maybe.
But she’s also giving me an opening.
A door I am absolutely not supposed to walk through.
I shut my eyes.
Damien would have me murdered in my sleep.
Or at least fired.
Probably both.
But I’m already typing.
Colt: Look. What are you up to tomorrow night? Friday’s probably a big date night for you, I’m assuming?
The second I hit send, my heart thumps against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.
The three dots appear immediately.
Disappear.
Reappear.
Stop.
Then, finally.
Elena: Wow. I… didn’t expect that.
A beat. I don’t say anything. I just…want to see her. Again. And soon.
Elena: And no. No dates tomorrow.
Another pause.
Elena: Why? You have an idea?
I exhale, rubbing my thumb over the edge of my phone, Diesel now curled at my knee like he knows I’ve done something reckless.
I start to type a dozen different responses, deleting each one.
The truth wins.
Colt: Just saying I can meet you. If you want. Just for the card.
A longer pause this time.
She knows it’s not just for the card.
And I know she knows.
My phone buzzes again.
Elena: Tell me when and where. I’m at your disposal, Sir.
I let my head fall back against the wall.
Oh, I’m fucked.
Elena: Sorry. Meant to type, ‘I’m at your disposal, LAMP MAN.’