When she risked a look to gauge Austin’s reaction, the intensity she witnessed in his expression made her stumble on the sidewalk. He pulled her close, so close, dropping his forehead onto hers. “Say more things like that.”
Polly gulped for air. “I liked sitting next to you, even when I didn’t want to admit it,” she admitted. “Last week, when I was waiting in your apartment, I stole your shaving cream because the smell comforts me. But it didn’t comfort me when it wasn’t on you. It was always you.” His breath pelted her mouth in harsh pants, encouraging her to keep going. Sensing that her praise was affecting him in some important, unseen way. “I don’t ever want you to disguise yourself from me or for me ever again.”
“Okay,” he whispered. “I hated the times I was unrecognizable to you, Polly. I always want you to recognize me.”
“I recognized you today. I think I always will now.”
His eyes closed briefly. “That was the best feeling I’ve had in a long time.” He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and released it gently. “Not counting the times you’ve had your hands on me. Or the times you’ve looked at me or spoken to me. Or drank the tea I brought you.” Her top lip got a turn in Austin’s mouth. “You are the feeling.”
If she stood on the sidewalk letting his mouth play with hers another minute, she would be under Austin-hypnosis. With a commendable effort, Polly stepped back, ignoring his protesting growl. “Is my father the first you’ve been introduced to?”
Austin narrowed his gaze, snagging her hand once again as they started to walk. “What do you think?”
Polly bit back her hesitation. “I told him about you.” She glanced over. “About your chosen career.”
His visible surprise was fleeting, but she suspected he was internalizing. “Should I be glad that you told your father about me? Or worried that this meeting is doomed before it begins?”
“I think he’ll surprise you.”
“Well.” He laughed under his breath. “If he’s anything like his daughter…”
She realized he’d pulled her to a stop outside Drake’s condo and gave him a look, registering for the first time that he’d sat outside waiting for her, dressed like a priest. “You could have picked a more comfortable stakeout disguise.”
He smirked before turning serious. “I didn’t feel anything while I was sitting here. I hated you being out of sight. I always hate it.”
Polly couldn’t swallow around the sudden heaviness in her throat. “Say more things like that.”
“My things aren’t nice like yours.”
“Let me decide.”
He looked to the side, his Adam’s apple rising and falling. “Sometimes when we go an entire week without a squad meeting or a case, I…sit in the back of your diner while you eat breakfast. Just to see your face. And to make sure no one’s with you.”
Polly had to struggle to hear him over the pounding pulse in her ears.
“I like the way you move to stay fresh in my mind. So I can recall it any time I want to see you, but can’t. I like the feeling we’re sharing something, even if you didn’t know it. And I like knowing you order breakfast at random after barely looking at the menu. It’s so unlike you. Why do you do it?”
Afraid the maelstrom of feelings whirring inside her chest would show in her expression, Polly ducked her head. “Everything else in my life is a file icon on my computer screen. Sometimes I like not knowing what’s coming. But I have to resist ordering the blueberry waffles every time, because they’re my favorite.” She turned and headed up the path toward the condo, sensing him directly behind her. It should have bothered her that he’d been watching for months without saying a word. It should, but it didn’t. In a way, it even soothed her, knowing she’d never truly been alone. Austin had been there, fighting the loneliness off without her knowledge or appreciation.
When they reached her father’s door at the far end of the complex, Austin curled a hand around Polly’s elbow and pulled her to a stop, his frustration visible. “If I’ve said too much, it’s down to your encouragement. I just wanted to keep holding your hand and now I’m not.” He glanced at the appendage in question, as if he wanted to take it, but wasn’t sure she’d allow him. “How do I hold it again?”
She knew he wasn’t referring to the present. That he meant beyond today. The future. And it scared her, because she’d never thought past settling her score with Reitman. But he was scared, too, even if he didn’t admit it out loud. This trip to Roanoke had proven one crucial fact, however, which was that they needed each other in a way that transcended a vocal explanation. So they would be scared together and figure out what came after Reitman when the time came.