Chapter 21
SHAY
The next afternoon, I find a small, rectangular box sitting in the middle of my desk at work.
I squint at it and frown.
No design samples would fit into something that size, and there’s no exterior logo hinting at its contents. Confused, I pry off the lid and freeze.
PEZ.
And not just any PEZ. A Snoopy-headed PEZ dispenser lies inside, and my throat tightens.
Three months ago, when lying with Kolton on the snow, worried about his dislocated shoulder, I told him that ridiculous story about my dog Snoopy’s bad stomach. I also told him my brother bought me PEZ dispensers and candy when I was upset.
He remembered everything I said.
Feeling too fluttery to be safe, I lift out the plastic dispenser to find another note:
If the PEZ doesn’t make you feel better, I have other ways to help. Please, go out with me.
God, this man.
Is dating me a cat-and-mouse game for him?
A challenge that brings out Kolton’s caveman instincts to pursue?
Except he was vulnerable with me yesterday.
He shared intimate details about his late wife, and he remembered everyone’s lunch preferences, crisscrossed the city to make sure people had exactly what they liked to eat.
Sawyer is the creative one of their business duo. Kolton, on the other hand, is clearly a detail-oriented man. Bills are quickly paid, issues swiftly tended to. He remembers what occurs around him.
Now all that meticulous intensity is focused on me.
Not gonna lie, part of me loves the attention.
I’m human, after all. Feeling wanted feels good.
That carefree part of me is itching to reply: Yes, yes, yes.
Let’s go out! Pick up where we left off!
Kolton’s complicated life feels like less of a reason to keep away from him.
Same goes for the volatile emotions he inspires in me.
I mean, strong emotions equal strong passion. That can’t be bad, right?
Unfortunately, Kolton being sweet and kind and funny—and ridiculously hot—doesn’t change my work circumstances.
I quickly lift my phone and send a succinct: No.
Hopefully he’ll get the hint this time. Realize dating is too big of a risk for me.
The next morning, I quickly learn Kolton doesn’t take hints. One step out of my apartment building, I slam to a stop.
Kolton is there, waiting at my car.
He’s holding what looks like a larger giftbag, and I chew my lip, debating running back upstairs and pretending I didn’t see him. Tough to accomplish when our eyes lock, and he assaults me with that charming grin of his. Why is he so darn handsome?
He tips up his chin. “Good morning.”
“Undecided,” I say.
Dredging confidence I don’t feel, I sashay toward him and fold my arms, waiting on him to speak.
His eyes slowly roam my face, like he’s cataloguing me. Like he hasn’t seen me in years, when it’s been half a day. “Got you something.”
“I don’t want your gifts, Kolton.”
“They’re as much for me as they are for you.”
“How do you figure?”
“Getting things for you makes me happy.”
Flutter, flutter, flutter goes my traitorous belly. How does a woman hold out against this level of courtship?
Too curious to resist, I snatch the giftbag, trying to give him a dirty look that likely betrays my eagerness, and I peek inside to find three old DVD movies.
I roll my eyes, expecting Rambo or those boring kung fu films he loves, but a quick flip shows they’re three of my favorite movies: the Before Trilogy I told him to watch in Aspen.
“You were right,” he says. “They were raw and real and fantastic.”
“You actually watched them?”
He nods. “I wrote my favorite quotes on the backs of them, if you’re curious.”
I should close the bag. Toss the sentimental gift at him as I dive into my car and race away from the swoopy feelings he inspires, but I’m a doomed cat right now, dying from curiosity.
I pull out the first movie—Before Sunrise—swallow hard, and read the Post-It attached to the back: “Isn’t everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?”
I glance at him, and he isn’t smirking. There’s no cocky glint in his eye. His brows are slightly lifted, vulnerability in the way he’s tightly crossing his arms.
Calm down, heart, I tell the overreacting organ. He just watched a movie many people love and felt moved by it.
I carefully replace the DVD, unable to resist pulling out the next one: Before Sunset. This quote is also short: “I don’t want to be one of those people that don’t believe in any kind of magic.”
My willpower joins my stomach in a freefall, my resolve to keep him at a distance weakening.
“There’s one more,” he says softly.
Fingers shakier, I pull out the last movie, Before Midnight.
The second I start reading, I laugh out loud:“You’re fucking nuts!
You are. Good luck! Find somebody else to put up with your shit for more than like six months, okay?
But I accept the whole package, the crazy and the brilliant.
I know you’re not gonna change, and I don’t want you to.
It’s called accepting you for being you. ”
I glance at him, my hands trembling. This sentiment is everything I didn’t have with Richard. I changed myself for my ex and vowed I’d never let that happen again. And here comes Kolton, offering me everything I want in a relationship. Acceptance. Unconditional support.
The already weakened floodgate to my emotions crack wider.
“Go out with me, Shay,” he whispers. He brushes his thumb across my cheek, looking at me like I hang the moon. “Please.”
“I want to,” I admit. He deserves my honesty. “I do. But the timing is horrible for me. I can’t risk my job right now.”
Not with my depleted bank account and late rent. I lean forward, though. Pause a breath away from his lips, desperate for more from him. A taste of what I’m missing.
“God, Shay,” he murmurs, killing me a thousand times over, but he doesn’t close the distance between us. “You have no idea how badly I want you.”
Instead of telling him the feeling is mutual, I kiss him. Soft and light. Chaste but lingering until we both suck in pained breaths. Then I force myself to walk away. I open my car door and sit inside, my breaths trembling as I press the ignition.
I glance in my rearview mirror. Kolton hasn’t moved an inch, but his fingers are on his lips, like he’s trying to hold onto that fleeting kiss.
I feel the press of his lips against mine for the rest of the day.