Chapter Four

 

“That was interesting.” Andrea gathered up the rest of the detritus from the evening and followed her toward the kitchen. Jeff was at the front door, his voice carrying over the other men’s as they exchanged good-byes.

Interesting might cover it. Alys was hard pressed to find another adjective to describe the evening. Her mind scurried over the events that had unfolded and struggled to make sense of them. A busted heart flush. There was a deep message there if she troubled herself to interpret it.

She said, “I suppose.”

“Hey.” The brunette dumped the dishes into the sink. “Maybe we can talk?”

“About what?”

“The elephant in the room. Goes by the name of Simon.”

“It was nice to see him again.” The understatement nearly made her laugh out loud. Hysterically. And probably never stop.

“First time in a long time.”

She ran some water, thinking about Simon’s hand under the cold stream earlier, with those reddened fingers outstretched. Taking care of him, touching him—had she been close to him in a while? Not since the occasional hug he’d avoided for some time. Hugs she missed, terribly.

“He’s been working. Taking jobs away.”

“That’s right. I wonder why that is,” Andrea mused.

She added soap and frothed the water, grabbing a cloth, even as she wondered why she wasn’t shoving everything in the dishwasher. “Maybe so Jeff can stay closer to you.”

Silence reigned. She risked a peek at Andrea who wore a look between shock and chagrin, her lips pursed and brow furrowed.

“He can be thoughtful,” the other woman agreed. “I guess I wondered if it was because things didn’t work out between the two of you.”

Did Jeff talk over everything with his fiancée? Alys mentally chastised herself. She and Andrea were close. Her soon to be sister-in-law was a bit older than Jeff and therefore even older than her, so it stood to reason Andrea had taken on a big sister role, maybe even a motherly one, seeing as they got along so well.

“Like I told Jeff, nothing happened with Simon.”

“He’s very interested in you.”

“Really. Did I imagine that tall, gorgeous blonde tonight?”

Andrea lifted a shoulder. “An aberration. Men do that.”

Alys wouldn’t know. The guys she dated mostly held her values and weren’t adept at games—or aberrations. “Well, they left together.”

“Should he have stayed? Put Eleanor in a cab, maybe?”

Of course not. Simon might be a player but he didn’t treat women badly, at least not to her knowledge once he’d grown out of the devil-may-care teenage years. “No. And no.”

“He wanted to stay.”

She pulled the plug on the sink and polished the stainless steel. Vigorously. She’d thought so too. A busted heart flush… “Now you’re mind reading.”

Andrea laughed. “You’re as stubborn as Jeff. A good quality under some circumstances.”

Drying her hands, she stared at the brunette. “You’re okay with Jeff’s checkered past?”

Andrea steered her to the small kitchen table. “Let’s sit.” Settled, the other woman rested her chin on her fist.

Alys fidgeted, waiting for words of wisdom, a feminine point of view.

“I didn’t know Jeff then. I won’t say I wasn’t cautious, what with his reputation preceding him, but I fell hard and had to make allowances.” Her lips curved into a rueful grin. “I was more … circumspect, I guess you’d call it, but your brother gets all puffed up and possessive-like if he even hears about my past boyfriends.”

“But they were boyfriends.”

“Not conquests, you mean?” Andrea shook her head. “Seems to me a lot of guys are wired differently. But some women do the conquest thing, too.”

“I know I sound judgy.”

“I don’t think you sound that way at all. You totally accepted Ryan when he came out and found a same-sex partner. You’re nice about the women at your work who’ve slept their way into their positions. You don’t poke fun or comment on anyone’s sexual choices or orientation.” She paused, and Alys could almost hear the drum roll. “Except when it comes to Simon.”

And there it was. She chewed on her bottom lip and cast around for something to say that would challenge the observation. And came up dry. “Maybe.”

Andrea patted her hand. “You keep thinking on it.”

“I’m horribly jealous.” Wow, that came out crystal clear and kind of lay there all gross and calcified. She’d clearly been thinking about it.

The other woman visibly tried not to laugh and choked on a chuckle. She immediately sobered and stared straight into Alys’s eyes. “Sorry. You just cut right to the chase.”

Alys sat back and folded her arms over her chest, knowing she looked like a pouting child. “It’s an awful feeling. And I hate the sense of being so … powerless. It was so much better when I could see him as a friend.” Which was sort of the case.

“Honey, he wouldn’t have even seen you as partner material when he first embarked on his, um, sexual experiences. Think of how that would have gone over. Like him fifteen years old and you ten.”

It made her flinch, hearing it like that, and even when she’d turned fifteen, head over heels for the guy, it’d have been skeevy. But still… “I fail to see how he had to listen to his … penis all that time! Where’s his self-control?” She heard her strident tone and words and couldn’t contain a smile in response to Andrea’s visible laughter.

Jeff groaned from the doorway. “Great. Hearing my sister say the ‘p’ word to my beloved. The highlight of the evening.”

“Go away,” she and Andrea chorused and glanced at one another, startled, sisters-in-arms.

He reared back, eyes wide, his brows climbing his forehead. “Hey. Okay, then. I locked up. I’ll be down the hall. In bed. If you want to know where to find me.”

Alys didn’t miss the way Andrea peered after his retreating form, love and longing written large on her pretty face. The same way Alys felt about Simon, although she hadn’t watched him leave with that elegant blonde person tonight. Why had he brought her, anyhow? She gritted her teeth.

“The way I see it, if you want my opinion”—Andrea paused, nodding at Alys’s gesture to continue—“you need to think on it some more. Can you get past Simon’s history to at least explore the chemistry between you?”

“Is that what it is? Chemistry?”

“Smoking. Even when you’re avoiding one another. Why do you think Paul and Ryan kept Eleanor busy tonight?”

“Does everyone know?”

“About you and Simon? Just our group. Maybe a few others. Your brother pretends not to notice that, of course.”

She felt light-headed. Her pride had carried her this past while, thinking she hadn’t let on how miserable she felt, when she’d apparently been exuding chemistry. Jeff had played dumb, darn him. But she knew most everyone had her best interests at heart. Except they liked Simon too, so they had to be objective or take sides.

“Nothing objective about what the heart wants, honey.”

She hadn’t meant to think out loud, but Andrea’s answer sounded perfectly accurate.

“I’ll sleep on it.” Not that she expected to get a lot of that tonight. Her entire being was vibrating.

Andrea stood and pushed her chair in. “See you in the morning.” She dropped a kiss on Alys’s cheek and sauntered out.

Sleep was overrated, Alys thought as she watched the moonlight flicker across the room, marking the increments of time. She had to work in the morning, one of those Saturdays where someone had to man the front desk until noon. Good thing she could manage that in her sleep.

She snatched a couple of hours before dawn, waking with a dry mouth and scratchy eyes, rolling out of bed to head to the shower. Even her lavender-infused body wash didn’t seem to help pick her up, but she made up her face carefully with rarely used cosmetics and presented herself at the breakfast table. Not that anyone was there to appreciate her efforts, her brother and his fiancée having a sleep in. Or something along those lines.

The radio played maudlin love songs on the drive to work, a go container of coffee in the cup holder, her belly roiling around a toasted English muffin. She kept seeing his face, hearing his words when he’d turned his cards over. And while she knew it was crazy, she’d come to the conclusion that her feelings for Simon weren’t going away anytime soon, if ever. They’d withstood the passage of her teenage crush years and the more certain, mature emotions of young adulthood. She’d been mired in denial. And they’d probably be there in spinsterhood—if she didn’t climb down off this impossibly high horse.

Except, was there anything wrong with her moral code? Not at all. So, she’d tried to ignore what Simon meant to her and suss out someone who ascribed to that code. With absolutely no success. She was only twenty-four with lots of years left to search, but her heart wasn’t cooperating.

Crap. She slapped the steering wheel and flicked over to the tunes on her phone, not a tear jerker in the lot. Enough with the soul-searching. She’d made the drive on autopilot and that wasn’t a good thing. She wouldn’t have a life if she had an accident. Better she got her work done this morning and then make a decision as to what do about Simon.

Bernie, the security guard, let her into the building and opened up for the day. “Morning, Alys. Your turn, huh?”

“Yup.” She shared the administrative duties with a couple other women and one man, so it was a monthly expectation. “It’ll be dead quiet, I expect.”

“No doubt.” The older man hitched at his webbed belt and settled back on his heels. “I’ll leave you to it. Dave will be here shortly. You’re a bit early.”

There’d been no point in staying in bed. “That’s fine.”

Her gaze landed on Bernie’s left hand with its wide gold band. She knew he’d been married for decades and wondered if he and his wife had been early sweethearts. Not that she could ask about Bernie’s early activities. Or his wife’s. She had to swallow a giggle at her obsession, still trying to build a gap between her and Simon. Trying to save herself heartache when she already hurt.

He wandered away and she got organized, pulling up some files to deal with so she wouldn’t have to worry about them on Monday. As she predicted, the phone rang but twice, issues dealt with by taking a message. Dave presented himself, but by noon he was someplace within the bowels of the building, doing whatever security guards did as she readied herself to leave.

She’d just stepped outside, turning to lock the door, when he spoke. “Hey.”

The keys jangled to the pavement and she said a bad word under her breath. If she’d needed them as an improvised weapon, they were useless. Trivia didn’t change the situation, and she looked into Simon’s handsome face.

Her heart in her mouth, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

He scooped up the keys and handed them over. “Thought you might be free for lunch.”

Well, she had to eat, never mind how happy she was to see him. “Where did you have in mind?”

“How about the taco stand on Main?”

As far as a romantic location went, it fell short, but Mexican food was her favorite. “That’s fine.”

“Ride with me. I’ll bring you back to your car later.”

She always took her car on dates, so she could leave when she chose, if she chose. And it seemed she often chose. But this wasn’t a date, not really. And it was Simon. And her brains were mush, her body ramping up again in its response to him, her heart back where it belonged but bouncing behind her ribs.

He wasn’t overly tall, although most everyone was tall compared to her. He had maybe nine inches on her, in her flats, but he’d make nearly two of her—if you discounted her boobs and butt—with his broad shoulders and wide chest. Built like a defensive tackle.

His handsome features weren’t particularly regular, his nose having been broken a couple of times, but they added up to a statement that always spoke to her. Even as he matured and they settled into a manly visage they told her a story. Right now, his dark brown eyes were watching her, their depths hinting at his interest. Now that she’d quit pretending she could admit she recognized that look.

A faint stubble colored his strong jaw and as she studied it, he lifted a hand and rubbed it. “I should have cleaned up a bit more. But I went over to help a buddy move some stuff and cut it a little close. I didn’t want to miss you.”

His damp, brown hair spoke to a recent shower and a scent of citrus wafted her way. She lifted a shoulder. “You look fine.”

“So do you.” His gaze drifted down the length of her and back up and she suppressed a shiver. Now there was just the two of them, without anyone else to diffuse the atmosphere, she couldn’t escape it. And she found she didn’t want to.

“I’ll just lock up.” She ensured the door was secure and then walked with him to his truck, the black monster crouching in nearly two spots in the lot. Clambering into the passenger seat was going to be a bit of an issue considering the skirt she’d donned that morning.

He opened and held the door while she set a foot on the running board and grabbed hold of the ‘oh shit’ handle. It was like climbing a mountain—with one’s legs hobbled.

A low chuckle filled her ears. “Excuse my reach.”

Reach didn’t precisely cover it. Simon kind of seized her around the waist and lifted her without apparent effort to stow her in the truck. It both took her breath for an instant and lit up her nerve endings.

“I’m not getting out until you bring me back for my car.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and didn’t look at him.

“I need to carry a stool,” he cracked.

They chatted desultorily on the way to the taco stand, about work and friends, catching up. Alys realized she was about to eat sloppy food in Simon’s pristine truck. They should have brought her car—she wasn’t nearly as anal about its interior.

He pulled into a convenient slot, something that would never happen had she been driving, and said, “The usual?”

Maybe she should change things up, shock him. But she went with what she knew, with what he knew. “Sure.”

While he took his place in line, she scanned him through the windshield. He exuded male confidence, attracting both sidelong and overt stares from other women, though he paid no attention that she could determine. In fact, when she thought about it, there hadn’t been evidence of other women until last night, and Eleanor. Of course, she had no idea what he’d gotten up to in Canada.

On a huff, she opened her door and sort of slid her feet down to the pavement with a bounce off the running board and an inelegant hop that nearly split her pencil skirt. A big hand caught her arm as she wobbled for balance.

“I’d have helped you out, Alys.” His warm breath drifted over her cheek as he bent close.

“I didn’t want to mess up your truck, eating in it.”

“It’s a truck. It’ll clean.”

She was struck dumb. There was actually such a term, she’d read it someplace. She literally had nothing to say. Simon loved his truck. To pieces. He never let anyone consume a scrap inside. He’d been to Canada and back and presumably ate and drank on the trip, yet there was no evidence. Not a shred of refuse or a scent of food. Huh.

Her heart rate kicked up a notch, as ridiculous as the evidence was. Kind of like a love me, love my dog, kind of thing—he cared more about her than his truck. Lots of ‘things’ in her life of late. All of which made sense and were applicable.

Unbidden, some version of the forlorn refrain from that morning’s tunes rattled around in her head. Something about love changing things. She smiled, feeling how tremulous it was, her lips barely holding the upward turn. Andrea knew, and so did Jeff. Paul and Ryan. Countless others.

“Alys? Sweetheart, are you okay?” Simon slipped a powerful arm around her waist, dipping his head lower.

“I’ve loved you since I was a teenager.”

His body stiffened and his eyes popped wide. He stared into her—she literally felt him in her head and welcomed the sensation.

He visibly swallowed, twice. “Okay. Right.”

She wanted to freak out, right then and there. The bubble that had surrounded them suddenly vanished and there they were at the taco stand, people all around. Some were looking their way, probably because they were frozen in some weird tableau. She’d poured her heart out, said something she could never take back and he was silent.