My gaze darts up sharply to her face. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I swear I wasn’t trying to be a tease or lead you on or—”
“Tess, stop,” I all but growl. “You did nothing wrong either.”
“I pushed you,” she admits. “I wanted to…to not feel so alone.” I can hear the tears catching in her throat. “Ryan, I’ve been so alone—”
Her voice breaks, and I’m on my feet. I pull her to me, my arms wrapping around her shoulders as I just hold her. “It’s okay,” I say against her temple, a few of her soft curls brushing my lips. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
After a moment, she relaxes, her sobs muffled by my shirt as her hands skim around my waist. Then she’s clinging to me. We’re relaxed, but firmly together. It feels nice. Compared to her smooth curves, I’m all hard edges.
“I’m sorry,” she hiccups, pulling back. “I’m such a fucking mess.”
“New house rule,” I reply, brushing my thumbs under her eyes to wipe away her tears. “No more apologizing for this,” I say, gesturing between us. “We’re attracted to each other. I can admit it. I think you can too. Tess, you’re fucking magnetic. I don’t think I can stay away, even if I try…and I don’t want to,” I add with a smirk.
She gives another little watery laugh. “I’m not trying to push you away. I’m just—such a goddamn mess—”
“House rule number two,” I say, cutting her off. “No more self-deprecation. You’re not a disaster or a pain or an inconvenience or any of the four-hundred and fifty other terrible names you probably have rolling around up here,” I say, tapping her temple. “Be nice to my friend, Tess. Okay?”
Her mouth quirks with a smile she’s trying not to let loose. Slowly, she nods.
“Let’s press pause on this,” I say, gesturing between us. “Bad timing now isn’t bad timing forever, right?”
She nods, her eyes still glassy with unshed tears.
“Hey, I have an idea,” I say. “How about you put on your PJs, and I’ll make us some popcorn. We can watch whatever you want on the TV in my room.”
She blinks up at me. “In your room?”
“Sometimes it helps me to fall asleep with the TV on. I bet you’ll pick something girly, and then I can just kind of zone out and maybe actually fall asleep.”
Her eyes flash as she pops her hands on those hips—which should be a crime because it just pulls on the opening of her silky robe, showing me more of her breasts. “You want me to pick the TV show so you can zone out to a stupid chick flick?”
“That way we both win, right?” Ducking down on one leg with the balance of a pro hockey player, I snatch up my crutch from the floor. “Meet me over there in five,” I call over my shoulder, not giving her a chance to say no.
And that’s how I found myself eating three bags of popcorn and staying up until 2:00 a.m. rewatching the first four episodes of Sons of Anarchy. I lost Tess somewhere early in episode three. She passed out on my bed, her arm curled around the empty popcorn bowl, green jelly eye patch things stuck to her cheeks, with fuzzy llama socks on her feet.
Clicking off my bedside lamp, I settle down into the pillows and try to get comfortable. Doc assures me I won’t have to wear this stupid brace for much longer.
Next to me, Tess shifts. I lie still, curious to see what she wants, what she craves even in her sleep. She inches closer, unknowingly using the sink of the mattress to roll gently into me, our bodies connecting from the shoulder down. The smell of her coconutty hair oil fills my senses and I breathe deep. If I turn my face, my lips will practically be pressing against her forehead.
I don’t turn. I don’t breach her trust by taking something that wasn’t freely offered.
But I think about doing it. I think about casually kissing her the way I want. I think about holding her, entwining our legs together, feeling how all the soft parts of her fit the hard parts of me. I think about knowing her and letting her know me. All of me. The parts I share and the parts I hide away. Would she still want me? Would she care?
I think about sharing the quiet touches of such a casual intimacy until sleep takes me.
And when I wake, Tess is gone.
Again.
26
“Well?” I say, spinning around in a circle. “What do you think?”
I’ve got my iced caramel macchiato in one hand while the other gestures to the empty office space. Sure, the carpet has some stains that we’ll have to strategically cover with furniture. And the walls need a bit of a repaint, but the view looks out on downtown Jacksonville.
Ilmari and Caleb stand in the doorway, glancing around with confused looks on their faces.
“What am I looking at?” Mars mutters.
“If I had to guess, I’d say this is a modern art installation titled ‘Dreams Unchased,’” Caleb replies, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Okay, A, fuck you,” I say at Caleb. “You weren’t even invited. You’re officially crashing a business meeting right now.”
“Mars invited me,” he replies with a smirk.
“You invited yourself because you wanted to get out of taking Jake to the dentist,” Mars replies.
“Can you blame me?” says Caleb. “You think he’s a prima donna about his sheet thread counts? Go with him once when he has to get a cavity filled and see how quickly you wanna file for divorce.”
I just roll my eyes. Ilmari was strict with me that we only had until 10:00 a.m. to get this done because they leave for an away game this afternoon. “Guys,” I call, snapping my fingers their direction. “Focus here. Look at the space, Mars. Yes or no?”
“You haven’t explained why we’re here.”
I glance between him and Caleb. “I can never tell when you’re serious.”
“He’s always serious,” Caleb teases.
“Mars, why the hell else would I be dragging you downtown at 9:00 a.m. on a Thursday morning?” I cry, gesturing around again. “We’re picking an office space for Out of the Net.”
“That name is fucking adorable, by the way,” says Caleb, taking another sip of his coffee as he does a half-spin. “Do I know why you guys need a physical office space?”
“Uhh, maybe to conduct business out of,” I say, not even bothering to keep the incredulity from my tone. “You need a space to meet with clients, train volunteers. Not to mention that if we want to be taken seriously by local government officials or the conservation orgs, we have to have an identifiable presence. Plus, it’s just kind of nice to have a place to send the mail.”
“And you think this place is the right fit?” asks Caleb, glancing around.
“I think it’s the right price,” I correct. “And anything can be the right fit with a little polish.”
While Ryan and I were up late watching TV last night, I was feverishly looking up ideas for simple office makeovers. I’ve already got a few things ordered, and as soon as Mars gets back from this trip out to Vegas, I’ll drag him over to IKEA to help me pick out some furniture pieces.
“Trust me,” I say. “You give me a week, and you won’t even recognize this place.”
“I’d hope not,” Caleb replies.
I glare at him. “You wanna take the stairs back down to the car, or you want me to push you out this window? ‘Cause I’m not picky.”
Still wearing his smirk, he slips behind Mars, using him as a shield.
I turn my attention to our patron. “Mars, what do you think? I have all the specs right here,” I say, whipping out my phone. “I can walk down the leasing terms with you if you want. I’ve already asked the landlord for a couple adjustments. He was charging a huge fee for phone lines, and who needs that when we can just use a cellphone? Want me to email you the rental contract or—” I huff when I glance up and see he’s walked right past me and is now looking out the window. “Or I guess I can keep looking for locations,” I call over to him. “But Mars, we really need to get this ball rolling so—”
“I hired you to make these decisions, did I not?” he says at last, his tone icy.