My gaze slides to them. If she’d have asked me ten minutes ago, I’d have jumped at it. We’ve had zero time alone. Not that I expected us to. But over the course of the afternoon I’ve enjoyed watching her interact with her huge family, and I wanted some time by ourselves to kiss her. It’s been hard not to admire how she shines, relaxed and happy.
Except now I know a secret — she feels stuck. We’ve kept things casual. Said it all the time. Gave the ‘out’.
But I don’t want out.
Can’t stay in either.
Not like this.
“You okay?” She reaches to push away hair the breeze blew over my eyes. “Something bothering you?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Sure?”
“I’m sure.”
A smile erases her frown, “Take a walk with me. Let’s talk.”
Oh fuck.
Let’s talk.
This invite might be to my end.
Can’t have that happen.
Not here.
With an audience.
“How about we get dessert.”
She frowns, looking toward the trees. “But I wanted to talk.”
“That table, too good to pass up.”
Tilting her head she asks, “Thought you weren’t hungry?”
“Always room for Cherry pie.”
A smile tugs at my distracting her with thoughts of sex. “I’m glad my dad didn’t hear you say that.” Taking my hand as we walk to the buffet table, she adds, “Couldn’t care less if Max or Caden heard. In fact, why don’t you tell them?”
“Another time.”
“I was kidding.”
“Oh.”
She side-eyeballs me, fingers loosening to a light hold. They slip apart as we make our choices, filling two small plates with colorful sweets while talking with those who had the same idea.
With my state of agitation, it’s not easy to be friendly, but I pull it off because I’m a man of self-control.
This is her family.
I’m a guest.
Back when I was eleven or twelve, my dad taught me,“Wherever you are invited, you participate. Engage. Add something of value. Don’t take anything for granted, because the invite might not come again if you do. Nor should it. You wouldn’t want some foul mannered, kill-joy in your house, would you?”
No, I sure wouldn’t.
Remembering his words, I endure the fire under my skin until it becomes diluted by easy laughter and shared stories.
When finally people begin to leave, Lexi is one of the first to take their cue. “I’m tired. How ‘bout you?”
My lungs fill with cement. I turn to tell Ryder, “You’ll see that ocean again.”
He frowns, “Thanks.”
I take Lexi’s hand since it’d be strange not to. Who am I kidding? I want to touch her. I also want to run. Knowing you’re about to get the ax fucking sucks.
The warmth of her fingers does little to soften the rock in my chest. We say goodbye on our exit, and I’m repeating, “Nice to meet you,” until it becomes surreal.
The kitchen is crammed with people helping clean food that had been carried in to make room for desserts. Since the sun is in a different place, and voices, clattering pots, and shutting cabinets crowd the air, it’s a stark contrast to the quiet anticipation of when she and I arrived.
Returning from the bathroom, tiny Grams sees us, blue eyes dropping to the keys in my hand. “Are you leaving, Hunk?”
Lexi hugs her, “We’ve gotta go, Grams. I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetie!”
“It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Cocker.”
“Don’t I get a hug? It’s not often I’m walking around!” I bend to give her one, feeling gentle arms wrap around me. My eyes close at the unexpected comfort they give. In my ear she whispers, “I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” pulling away to pat my chest. “But you are a hunk.”
A loud crash and the sound of glass shattering makes us all jump in our skin, heads turning to hear Nancy Cocker cry out, “Oh shit!”
Grams’s bright blue eyes go wide, and everyone besides me, shouts at the top of their lungs, “Language!” and starts laughing, with Grams sighing, “Nancy! You?!”
“Sorry, Mom.”
Lexi takes my hand, “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
LEXI
G age isn’t the most talkative of guys, most days, but his silences are normally comfortable.
I’m feeling alone in the Bronco. Driver absent.
Wheel turning itself.
“Am I going back to your place?” I ask, feeling the question is not a big deal…until he doesn’t answer.
Then it’s a very big deal.
For the rest of the ride I don’t try again, instead enjoying the warm wind in my hair as Buckhead disappears into West Midtown. Not a long drive, just drive South and a little to the right.
A.K.A. West.
The opposite direction of Virginia Highlands.
Guess I’m going home.
No need to say the obvious aloud and bring attention to the odd fact that I’m being dropped off without ceremony.
What’s going on?
Where’s the hand that’s normally on my thigh?
Ohhhhhh.
I know what this is about.
Who wouldn’t be overwhelmed by today, especially when Gage had no warning the chaos was coming. So many introductions, conversations with virtual strangers who watched him as if he were a museum exhibit, and everyone calling him that nickname!
Can’t believe Grams.
I wanted to kiss her!
She deflated a balloon near bursting, the kind with dye in them that splatters an unflattering color you can’t get rid of.
Content I figured out his sudden man-caving, my toes start tapping.
I had a wonderful day.
Didn’t know if I would!
That’s the first time I’ve ever brought a guy to one of our infamous BBQs, and it was…scary as fuck.
Without asking, I switch on a playlist, because I do that any other time I’m driving with him. And how is this any different? I do check for his reaction to see if he likes the song, and find none.
Satisfied he just needs time to regroup, I enjoy the remainder of our ride. When he drops me off in front of Building Four with clearly no intention of coming up, I smile while watching him cross around the blood-red hood to open my door, taking his offered hand and sliding into his arms. As usual.
His crocodiles look dead tired, and this grip is the opposite of passionate. Give him a
