I don’t know why I just told her that, but I do know it’s the truth.
Even now, as her blush-coloured lips pull up in a beaming smile that I feel coiling itself around my heart, I accept that I’ll do anything and everything she wants just to see her look at me like that again.
Like I’ve done more than simply agree to help a phenomenal athlete continue her training regardless of finances.
My confidence is bubbling like soda in a can that’s been shaken a few too many times, and I use it to my advantage. If I don’t ask her about Gracie’s party right now, I risk the possibility of chickening out.
“Actually,” I start and sigh in relief when her smile only wavers with silent curiosity. “I was already planning on asking you about this before you walked in here—actually, it’s what I was just talking on the phone about, so know this has nothing to do with Willow or my choice to help her. But there’s a birthday party that I’m going to this weekend, and I would love it if you came with me.”
I don’t bother clarifying that it doesn’t have to be a date because I think that’s exactly what I want it to be, as unorthodox as it might be.
Scarlett’s eyes go wide, and her lips slowly fall. I feel sweat break out on the back of my neck before I reach back and rub it away. Eternities of silence is what it feels like as I wait for her to answer.
“Is this a date?” she finally asks. There’s no immediate repulsion in her words, so I’ll take that as a good sign.
“That’s up to you, Scary Spice. Date or not, I just know I want you there with me.”
A beautiful flush works up her neck and spreads to the tips of her ears. “So, if I said it could be a date . . .”
“I wouldn’t complain in the slightest.”
A stray curl slips from behind her ear when she looks away, and I fight the urge to reach toward her and twirl it around my finger.
“But there’s no pressure. As long as you come with me, I don’t care what you’re coming as—date or friend,” I add.
Her eyes meet mine again. They’re more reserved than they were just moments ago, and I frown. “What kind of party is this? I don’t have much dating experience, but I’m pretty sure having a first date around a large group of people isn’t exactly ideal.”
“So, it would be a date?”
“Did you listen to anything else I said?”
“Yes. And I know it’s a bit unorthodox to have a first date surrounded by all of my family and friends . . . actually, you’re right. That sounds far less appealing when I say it out loud. Friends, then?”
I try to ignore the pang of disappointment that label brings and slip a smile on my face. I mean, come on. What man in his thirties brings a woman to meet his family on the first date? I inwardly wince. Maybe I am a bit rustier in the dating world than I thought.
“I don’t do well with big crowds. I’m not exactly a people person,” she says.
“Luckily for you, I am. Let me worry about the schmoozing.”
She lifts a brow. “I find it hard to believe you’re okay with dating someone who would rather find a quiet, empty room to sit alone in than gossip with the girls.”
“Dating? How presumptuous of you, Scarlett.” I smirk.
Scarlett glares daggers at me. She jumps to her feet, huffing. “You’re infuriating.”
I grab her wrist and gently pull her toward me. There’s still feet of distance between us, but I’ve become sucked into her orbit. Her skin is warm and smooth beneath my fingertips. I revel in the hitch of her breath when I run my thumb over her wrist bone.
“I’m sorry. I know what you meant,” I begin. She stares down at my hand around her wrist. “And to put it bluntly, I don’t give a flying fuck if you want to sit in a quiet room and take a break. Tell me you want to go, and I’ll come with you. Tell me you want me to stay, and I’ll keep up appearances for the both of us. Personally, I’m partial to option number one. I’m sure there are plenty of things we can do to keep ourselves occupied in the dark.”
Her eyes travel up the length of my arm and torso before finding mine. They flare with a fierce heat that makes my dick stir.
“I came in here for a reason,” she says breathlessly.
I release her wrist and slowly, cautiously, touch her fingers. When she doesn’t pull away, I slip them between mine and test the way it feels to hold her hand. “Tell me you’ll come with me this weekend.”
“You’re sure you want me there? This is your last chance to change your mind.”
“Absolutely. Without a doubt.”
“And this has nothing to do with you helping Willow? Because she’s outside your office right now thinking her life is about to end.”
I tighten my grip on her hand. Scarlett’s protectiveness of Willow is becoming one of the most stunning things about her. “You could tell me to shove my offer up my ass right now and I would still do everything in my power to help that girl.”
She gifts me a small smile. “Then yes. I’ll come.”
Triumph blares in my ears, but I try to silence it. Yes, I might want to throw my arms up and shout a quick boo-yah, but there is a concerned sixteen-year-old waiting for me to tell her everything is going to be okay.
“Then let’s go find Willow.”
SCARLETT
Mom rubs her hands down my arms for the third time in a row before stepping back and placing the tip of her finger to her chin. She squints her eyes, examining me.
“Well?” I ask, ignoring the urge to rip out the small hoops in my ears. I don’t remember the last time I wore earrings, but I doubt I like them any more now than I did then. “Do I look private yacht worthy?”
She smiles. “You look beautiful.”
“Really? Because I feel like one of those makeup dolls I had as a child.”
I let Mom pull my hair up into a braided ponytail and put more makeup on me than I’ve worn since my high school graduation, although that’s not really saying a lot. I never had the time to put much effort into my appearance when I was playing hockey, but even if I did find the time to try, it would have been for nothing once I began to sweat at practice. I’m a complete novice when it comes to knowing how to use half of the stuff on my face right now.
My legs are clad in a pair of jean shorts with a rip in the front left pocket, and an oversized, cropped tee hangs off my shoulders. Mom tried to force me into a sundress she found in the back of my closet, but I was quick to shut that down.
If I was going to let her paint my face, then I was going to choose my outfit.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. You still look great regardless,” she states.
I smile and reach forward to give her a hug. “Thank you.”
She returns the hug eagerly, and I soak up the affection for a few seconds longer than necessary. My stomach is still a mess of nerves when we break apart, and I wipe the beads of sweat off the back of my neck.
“You look nervous, my darling.”
I choke on a laugh. “Really? What gave me away?”
I’ve been nervous since Adam asked me to come to this party. It’s been a week of awkward hellos and high-strung anticipation. Not to mention the sexual tension that’s grown to the point it’s impossible to ignore whenever we’re alone.
We’ve had three therapy sessions since Monday afternoon, and each one gets worse. I’ve started contemplating bringing extra underwear in my gym bag just to change into afterward because of the effect he’s started to have on me. Even the slightest brush of his fingers is enough to send me into a lustful haze.
Whatever has grown between us has to be affecting him, too, because ever since Tuesday’s session, he has made extra sure not to touch me at all. Instead, I’ve been repeating the same exercises on my own each day.
It’s obvious we need to figure out what’s going on with us before it starts to hurt my progress, but the thought of talking about this with him is enough to send me into a panic.
Adam isn’t like the other guys I’ve been with. Being with him would be complicated. And complicated scares me. Especially with where my life is at the moment. Yet regardless of all of that, I can’t get him out of my head.
I’m screwed.
“Do you want a shot of tequila before you go? Maybe you need a bit of warmth in your belly to calm the nerves,” Mom suggests.
“Thanks, Mom. But I’m driving.”
She clucks her tongue. “Why isn’t Leo coming to pick you up? This is a date, is it not?”
“I’m going out with Adam today, Mom. And I told you this morning that he had to pick up his son from a band practice. I offered to meet him at the dock.”
When realization doesn’t dawn on her, she frowns deeply. It pulls at the lines in her skin.
“Right, of course. I’m sure you did, sweetheart,” she whispers.
I place a hand on her shoulder and kiss her forehead. “Would you like me to help you get settled before I leave?”
“Yes, I think that would be great.”
I nod and steer her in the direction of her yellow armchair in the sitting room. She has a view of her side garden from the window across from the chair, and I’ve caught her sitting there watching the butterflies a few times this week.
Once I have her situated in her chair, I place an eating tray beside her and head to the kitchen to grab her a glass of lemonade. A few moments later, I’m turning the television on and locking the back door.
“My phone number is on the fridge. If you need anything, and I mean anything, Mom, please call. I can always send over Mrs. McConnell from next door if I can’t get back here soon enough.”
She swipes a hand in the air and grabs the TV remote from the side table. “You worry too much. I’m not eighty and incapable of taking care of myself. Go have fun with Leo, and I’ll see you when you get back.”
I close my eyes and hold back the onslaught of emotions that flares to life when she says Leo’s name again.
“I will,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll lock the door on my way out. I love you.”
Mom looks over her shoulder at me and smiles. “I love you more, my darling.”
I watch the TV screen as it changes from the news to a crime show before turning around and heading for the door.
