Molly

On our way in, we stop to pick up our mail. The young couple in Apartment 1B comes in from an evening out, holding hands and stealing kisses as they fumble with trying to unlock their door. I think they might have had a little too much to drink. I can’t help smiling, and Jamie just shakes his head at me as we head upstairs.

At the top of the stairs, Jamie takes my hand and says, “I need to take Gus out for a quick walk. Why don’t you order us some take-out nearby, and I’ll go pick it up?”

Us. He’s already thinking of us as a couple. The thought fills me with pleasure, but it also scares the hell out of me. This feels so right between us, but if things continue there’ll come a time when he’ll want to be intimate, and then I’ll have to face the music and risk rejection. I’ll have to tell him about the cancer and my surgery. And if by some miracle that doesn’t put him off, then I’ll have to face getting naked with him. No, I can’t deal with that right now. I’m worn out, and my ability to cope with anything beyond getting some food is nonexistent.

It’s almost nine o’clock, and I hate the thought of Jamie wandering too far alone in the dark. “Jamie, it’s dark out.”

He laughs. “Honey, for me, it’s always dark. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t I come with you?”

He frowns. “Because you’re exhausted.”

True. But I don’t want to be separated from him right now. “Look, why don’t we both go? We can grab something from the sandwich shop down the street and bring it back. That’s quick.”

He sighs. “All right. If you’re sure.”

So, while Jamie’s getting Gus, I take a quick bathroom break to freshen up, and the three of us head out.

On the sidewalk, Jamie holds my hand, and after stopping for Gus to take care of business, we walk the two blocks to the eatery and place an order for two sandwiches with fries.

We end up eating in my apartment, both of us seated on the sofa, with our food spread out on the coffee table. While we eat, Gus wanders around the apartment sniffing absolutely everything, and when Charlie makes an appearance, Gus gets excited and tries to initiate playtime.

As I’m carrying cold drinks back from the fridge – a beer for Jamie and flavored tea for me – Jake calls with further updates.

After he hangs up, Jamie fills me in. “Sam’s regained consciousness. There’s still some bleeding in his skull, and he’s had a couple of seizures, but apparently that’s to be expected. Sam will remain in the intensive care unit until he’s out of danger.”

I lean back in the sofa, my mind reeling. “I just happened to run into Beth in Clancy’s this afternoon, and she invited me to eat lunch with them – with Lia and her boyfriend, and Sam. We were walking to the restaurant when the accident occurred.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Jamie says.

I can feel the blood drain from my face. “What?”

Jamie frowns. “Jake said the arresting officers found a photograph of Beth in the driver’s wallet. It looks like it was a hired hit.”

“Oh, my God, no! I can’t believe that! Why in the world would anyone want to hurt Beth?”

“Hurt Shane is probably more like it.”

My eyes widen. “Shane? Is that why she has a bodyguard? Because of Shane?”

“My brother’s a very wealthy man, and he’s made a few enemies over the years. He’s been responsible for putting more than a few people behind bars – some of them pretty high profile.”

“Do they know who’s behind this hit-and-run?”

“Shane has his suspicions. The driver of the car is angling for a plea deal. He said he’d give up the name of the person who hired him for a lenient sentence.”

“Poor Beth. And poor Sam. God, I hope he’s going to be all right.” I don’t think I’ll ever get the memory of seeing him lying in a pool of blood out of my head.

When I’m done eating, I observe Jamie as he finishes his meal. I notice he has no trouble locating everything… his sandwich, his fries, his bottle of beer. Every time he drinks from the bottle, he sets it back down in exactly the same spot.

Jamie leans back in the sofa and stretches his long legs with a groan. “God, what a day,” he says, running his long fingers through his hair.

He rubs his hand on his thigh, and my gaze gravitates to it. His skin is tanned, and there are thick veins visible on the back of his hand. His fingers are long and masculine, his nails trimmed bluntly. He has sexy hands. And arms, too. Hell, everything about him is sexy.

As if he knows what’s on my mind, he flexes his hand on his thigh, then rubs it the length of his leg, from his hip to his knee and back again. He seems almost… nervous.

And that makes me nervous.

“Molly?”

At the sound of my name, my stomach sinks like a stone. “Yes?”

He reaches for my left hand and lays it on his denim-covered thigh. Then his hand covers mine, and he links our fingers together. My heart starts tripping all over itself, and as I stare at our joined hands, I’m finding it hard to breathe.

He rubs my hand along his thigh and swallows hard. “I know we agreed not to complicate things – our friendship – with anything more… and I respect that. I do. It’s just, my feelings haven’t changed. In fact, they’ve grown.”

He pivots on the sofa so that he’s facing me. Our hands are still joined, and I can feel his thigh muscles tensing beneath my hand. With his free hand, he reaches for my face, his hand moving slowly, hovering just inches from my cheek, waiting, as if asking for permission to touch me. I can’t resist reaching out and pulling his hand close, pressing it to my face.

He brushes his thumb along my bottom lip. “I keep thinking about our kiss in the barn, and I can’t help wondering what might have happened if Elly hadn’t walked in when she did.”

Now it’s my turn to swallow hard.

“I know you have your reasons,” he says, his voice low and steady, “but I wish you’d give me a chance. I may not be ideal boyfriend material, but I’d work hard at being the person you need. I know you’ve been through a bad break-up, and you’re still dealing with your ex, but maybe moving forward is the best way to let go of the past.”

As I gaze into the darkened lenses of his glasses, I realize how desperately I wish I could see his eyes. I squeeze his hand. “Would you take off your glasses for me?”

He stills, and then his chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh. “I never take them off when I’m around people.”

His statement doesn’t come across as combative, or even a polite rejection. It almost sounds like a question. I think I caught him off guard.

“I want to know what you look like without them,” I say, my voice not much more than a whisper.

His lips flatten, and I can tell my request has made him uncomfortable. I watch him as he struggles with a decision.

He sighs. “All right, I’ll take them off. But you need to know that I rarely ever take them off for anyone.”

I realize what a big deal this is for him. I feel honored that he trusts me enough to reveal this part of himself.

Jamie blows out a heavy breath, then reaches up to slowly remove his glasses and hook them on the neckline of his T-shirt. He turns to face forward, away from me, his eyelids closed. It’s as if he has to steel himself to be so exposed.

I don’t say a word. I just wait patiently for him to proceed at his own speed. Finally, he turns to me and opens his eyelids.