As soon as we were alone, Brogan brushed his hand down my arm—sweetly, slowly—and said, “I’m sorry for how I acted the other night. It was immature and stupid.” He frowned and looked down, embarrassed.
I shrugged away from his touch, even though it took every bit of restraint not to lean into his fingers. “Doesn’t matter. You were right. It’s probably best, like you said.” I’d be absolutely nuts to be with a guy whose emotional stance on a relationship ping-ponged in a handful of days.
“And I told you what I said was stupid. I’m really sorry, Lainey. Truly. The thought of putting my trust in someone, opening up, scares the shit out of me.”
Damn him for sounding so earnest. How was I supposed to resist him when he looked at me like that, when his touch sent a million pinpoints of heat through my body?
Must. Stay. Strong. I wasn’t a damn doormat.
“I’m not looking for you to share your social security number. All I want is to know more about the person I’m”—I motioned with my hands—“spending time with. Or was spending time with.” So maybe that seemed a little casual compared to what I’d built it up to be in my mind, but my pride was still a little wounded from last week, and I sure as heck wasn’t going to give in that easily with one meager apology. “You say you’re scared, but everyone’s scared. Relationships involve taking risks, but finding the right person can also have its rewards. You’ll never know unless you try. But when you shut down, it makes that impossible.”
His lips tipped into a frown, and it took everything in me not to run my thumb along the seam of his mouth. “I know. I handled it like an asshole, and I’m sorry for that,” he said.
“It’s hard to know where I stand with you. If I’m just another employee to you, then maybe it is for the best I don’t come over to your house anymore.”
His eyes sparkled in the lights, and he shook his head. “You’re more than that to me. So much more.”
“Am I?” I crossed my arms, but inside my inner fangirl was flailing. This was the first time I actually felt like we were getting through to each other, finally on the same page. “Because at times it doesn’t feel that way.”
“Yes.” He chanced running a finger over my cheek. This time I let him. “You deserve better.” He frowned.
I nodded. “I do.” Because hell if I’d cheapen myself for any guy.
“This past week has been miserable without you. It just hasn’t been the same.” He frowned. “The other night, I opened up Netflix and watched Mean Girls.”
I choked on a sip of beer. “I am slightly jealous I didn’t get to witness this.”
“It was horrible, by the way. And you have the worst taste in movies, but you know what I was thinking the whole time?”
“What?”
“How I wished you were there, because I like hearing your commentary. I wanted to know what parts you found funny. I wanted to share that with you.” He tucked a stray curl behind my ear and said, “And that scared me, because I haven’t wanted to share anything with anyone in a long time. I’m not used to trusting people, but I want to try with you.”
My breath hitched at the sincerity of his comment. Who knew what changed his mind from last week. “I’m not big on the trust thing, either, and after last week…you made it seem like you could turn it off just like that.” I snapped my fingers. “I get that we aren’t supposed to be serious, but you were so cold. I just wanted to know what things were like when you were a kid. You didn’t just shut me out, you ended it. That’s not how it works—this is a two-way street.”
His gaze searched mine and we were standing close enough that I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure I’ve used the word stupid a couple of time. I–I’m not sure how to make it up to you.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know either.”
I thought he might walk away. Then he smiled, and it was like a riptide pulling me under. “How about, will you dance with me?”
I stared at him, wondering why it had taken him a full week to say this. But his sincerity spoke volumes. What could one dance hurt? “What about the no dancing rule? I thought your mother scarred you for life.”
“Lainey, when it comes to you, I’m breaking all my own rules.” He held out his hand. “Please.”
I pushed my empty beer across the bar and grabbed his hand. “Fine, Starr. I’ll give you one dance.”
He smiled. “That’s all I need.” He led me to the dance floor. A fast country song boomed in the room, the beat vibrating through my bones. Brogan grabbed both my hands and took the lead. Within the chorus of the song, I’d been spun, dipped, and sufficiently wooed.
His warm hands on my hips, the heartfelt look in his eyes—it was more than I could handle. Call me stupid, but if he was really serious about giving this another shot, I was willing to give it one more try.
I laughed as he pulled me up from the final dip. “Can I write a letter to your mom thanking her for putting you in dance classes?”