Save the Date

by R. J. Groves

  Oh, God. Had he noticed her looking at him? She turned her head forward, finding a spot on the dashboard to focus her attention on. She would not look at him. Would not look at the way his shirt fitted his body nicely, leaving little to the imagination. Her eyes drifted towards him, her head remaining still, then focused back on the spot. Yes, very little to the imagination. He had a strong chest. His muscles were defined. And smooth, despite the little spattering of soft curls peeking out above the vee of his shirt.

  She’d never once thought she was into chest hair. Never even considered it as something she might like. She’d never liked hairy men before. So, what was different now? She closed her eyes, trying to picture a man with a very hairy chest. And back. She felt her nose scrunch up. No, she still wasn’t into it.

  She let out a slow breath, opening her eyes, and risking another subtle glance at the soft curls. She bit into her lip, focusing once more on the spot on the dashboard. Interesting …

  There was something about the way he wore those hairs that created a whole new classification on hairiness—hairless, hairy, and Taylor Ballin. And though she was still a little unsure on hairy, she was now certain that hairless only made a man look like a boy. And she’d be surprised if any man wore chest hair anywhere near as well as he did.

  She swallowed, shifting her gaze to look out her side window. How much trouble was she in if she was even attracted to his hair? His chest hair? That she could only see a smidge of. For all she knew, he was incredibly hairy all over his body. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  God, even that would look good on him.

  ***

  Tay watched her pick at the garden salad so delicately that he wondered if she even planned on eating any of it. He rolled his mouthful around, chewing slowly. He’d half expected her to order a burger like she had the last time they’d eaten together. Which is why he’d settled on a steak sandwich. Now he was the one eating with his hands, and she was poking at a zero-calorie, zero-flavour salad with a fork. Zero anything because she was still yet to take a bite.

  She pushed a quartered baby beetroot to the edge of her plate, sighed, and rested the fork on the table. Then she took a long, slow sip of her water. It was painful to watch. How could the woman who’d practically been ready to stuff her face a few weeks ago possibly be the same woman sitting across from him now? Which was the real Andie Gray?

  ‘I thought you said you were hungry,’ he said, studying her.

  She seemed tired—something he hadn’t noticed before. And as though she’d lost weight. He remembered thinking she looked thinner after knowing her only a week. He’d thought he must have been imagining it then, but he could see now that she had, indeed, lost weight. His eyes fell to the plate still mostly untouched in front of her. If she had been eating like she was right now, it was no wonder she’d lost weight.

  ‘I said I was thinking about food, not that I was hungry,’ she said softly, her eyebrow lifting a little as she took another sip of water. ‘I ate before you picked me up.’

  His brow furrowed. How could she have been thinking about food without being hungry? For him, the two walked hand in hand. ‘What did you eat?’

  ‘Toast.’

  ‘That’s hardly anything.’

  She frowned. ‘It’s my usual, not that it’s any of your business.’

  ‘It’s not enough.’ He returned his steak sandwich to his plate, picked up the half that he hadn’t taken a bite from, and held it out to her.

  Her eyes dropped to the sandwich in his outstretched hand. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Take it,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘You’re lying. And you’re practically starving yourself. You should eat.’

  ‘What makes you think I’m starving myself?’

  ‘You’ve lost weight,’ he said, focusing on the slice of beetroot easing out of the sandwich. He shifted his hand just in time to catch it in the palm of his hand. Damn. The whole blasted thing was going to fall apart if she didn’t take it from him.

  ‘What if I was trying to lose weight?’

  He squinted. That thought hadn’t occurred to him. Then again, he’d thought that she looked beautiful exactly how she was. His thoughts drifted back to the first time he saw her, standing in the shop in the wedding gown that showed off all her curves. No, she didn’t need to lose weight. But his experience with women was that they could be very self-conscious creatures. Especially around men.

  His eyes widened and his breath caught. God, she wasn’t trying to lose weight because of him, was she?

  ‘Were you?’ he said cautiously, the last bit of beetroot falling into his palm with the rest.

  She glanced up at him, then focused back on the sandwich. ‘No.’

  The beetroot started to slide from his palm. ‘Take it, please, before it all falls apart.’

  She took it after a moment of hesitation, and held it gingerly in her hands, holding his gaze. ‘Thank you.’

  He eyed the beetroot still in his palm. ‘Do you want this too? My hands are clean, promise.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not big on beetroot.’ She took a small bite of the sandwich.

  He grimaced when it looked like she was going to lose most of the fillings with every bite. His eyes dropped to her garden salad. He noticed the beetroot that she’d pushed to the edge of her plate, then realised the salad was practically riddled with the offending vegetable. He dumped the beetroot from his palm onto his plate and wiped his hand with a napkin.

  ‘Is that why you haven’t touched your salad?’

  She frowned, but her eyes glinted. ‘I haven’t got a phobia of them or anything like that. I can still eat things it’s touched. I just don’t like eating it.’

  ‘So, you haven’t touched it because …’

  She shrugged, taking another bite of the sandwich. ‘I wasn’t hungry.’

  ‘You look hungry now,’ he mused, picking up his unused fork.

  ‘That’s because you waved steak under my nose. You can’t expect me to say no to steak.’ She watched his free hand reach out for her plate and brought it closer to him, but said nothing. She stopped chewing while he picked through her salad, nudging the beetroot from her plate to his. Still, she said nothing.

  ‘You could have got steak instead of … this,’ he said.

  She shrugged, returning to chewing. ‘Saving for a car,’ she said through her mouthful.

  He felt his lips pull to the side, and returned her plate to its spot in front of her. ‘You do know I’m paying for lunch, right?’

  She paused with the sandwich only a few inches from her open mouth and lowered it slowly to the plate. ‘I can pay for my own,’ she said quietly.

  He indicated to the plate of beetroot-free salad. ‘It’s not like you’re costing much,’ he said. ‘And besides, you’re saving for a car.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘Thank you?’

  She bit into her lip. Her shoulders fell slightly, and she gave him a half-hearted smile. ‘I meant about the car.’

  ‘Ahh,’ he said, stabbing his fork into one of the quartered beetroots and popping it in his mouth. ‘I might have been a bit pushy about the car. Sorry. You don’t have to get that one if you don’t want to. I know a few other dealerships we could look at and go from there.’

  ‘Do they sell used cars?’ she asked, giving him a hopeful look.

  He hesitated. Why was she so set on a second-hand car? Not only were new ones a hell of a lot more reliable than second-hand, there was also little price difference, especially when buying from a dealership. And there were more options for new cars.

  ‘Why are you so adamant on a second-hand car?’ he said cautiously.

  ‘It’s what I want.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘It’s all I can afford, okay? I don’t have a ton of money laying around to spend at leisure. I am a normal person who works hard for her money and has little save
d up. I can’t justify spending all of my savings on a brand-new car when a used one will work just fine.’

  He tried to let her obvious jibe at his financial status slide. Clearly, finances were a problem. But he hadn’t expected that she’d have lots of money to spare. And the hinting that she thought that he was into throwing money away, that he was just another rich guy who didn’t have an appreciation for money and the hard work that it took to get it … It hurt. He might have let it slide if she were anyone else. But she wasn’t. She was Andie. And for some blasted reason he couldn’t let her think that of him.

  ‘I’m not just some arrogant rich guy, Andie,’ he said, not caring about the roughness in his tone.

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘I never said you were,’ she said, her tone challenging. ‘But, now that you mention it …’ She finished on a shrug.

  His grip tightened around his fork, and his jaw clenched so tightly he was surprised his teeth didn’t shatter. ‘I know what it’s like to have nothing, damn it!’

  She frowned. ‘I don’t have nothing,’ she said defensively.

  ‘But I did, Andie,’ he growled. ‘You have no idea what I’ve been through.’

  ‘Then, please, enlighten me,’ she said, her brow creased.

  He opened his mouth to retort, then snapped it shut. Not here. Not now. And damn it all if it was ever. That part of his life was behind him. And he intended on keeping it that way. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a long, slow breath, bringing his focus to the topic on hand.

  ‘No,’ he said. He noticed her face drop. ‘All that matters is that I’m not your average arrogant rich guy. I know what it’s like to work hard for your money, and I’m not suggesting you spend all of your savings on a car. I’m suggesting you invest in a new car for longevity and reliability, over a car that may only last you a few years.’

  ‘By spending all of my savings.’

  ‘By using your income to get you financing for a car.’

  Her expression remained neutral, her eyes narrowing only slightly. ‘Through who?’

  ‘Your bank, maybe. Or the dealership. They often have their own financing.’

  She opened her mouth to say something, and hesitated. He wondered if that meant she was thinking about it. God, she didn’t really think he planned on using all of her savings on a car, did she?

  ‘I don’t …’ she started, taking a deep breath. Her shoulders lowered again, making him realise that they’d risen somewhere in that conversation. ‘Wouldn’t the interest mean I’m paying much more than I should?’

  ‘They’re simply options, Andie,’ he said. ‘If you don’t want to pay interest, you can put however much you want upfront and I’ll pay the rest.’ She opened her mouth to speak again, and he cut her off. ‘You can pay me back however much you can manage as often as you want. No pressure.’

  She seemed to consider his suggestion for a moment. He took her thoughtful silence to reflect on it himself. The truth of it all is that he hadn’t actually thought out how this day would go. All he knew was that she needed a car. A reliable car. And it had to be paid for somehow. What he didn’t understand was how easy it was for him to offer to foot the bill. Or the urge he’d had to simply pay for it and gift the car to her, not expecting anything in return. It was … frightening … almost. Or it would normally be frightening. But this …

  It was something different. Something that made sense.

  But there was no way the stubborn wench would accept a car as a gift. She was possibly more stubborn than he was.

  ‘I—I don’t like debts,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Consider it a payment plan.’ Again, with the talking before thinking. Why did he actually want to convince her to let him pay for a blasted car? A car! A new car, at that.

  ‘It’s still a debt.’

  ‘Just think about it,’ he said. ‘Actually think about it. Okay?’

  She considered him another moment, then nodded slowly. He shouldn’t feel relieved about the fact that she was willing to think about it. Nor should he particularly want her to take him up on the offer. But he did. He shouldn’t, but he did. She lifted the sandwich to her mouth and paused, her brow furrowed.

  ‘I thought you didn’t like sharing your food,’ she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. He looked at her, puzzled. ‘At the movies,’ she explained. ‘You didn’t like me eating your food.’

  ‘Your point?’

  She lifted the sandwich a little higher, then indicated towards his plate. ‘Just wondering, since you don’t seem to have a problem with it now.’

  He eyed the sandwich in her hand and felt the realisation sink in as she took a bite. He glanced down at the quartered beetroot on his plate and frowned. The damned woman.

  It seemed it wasn’t just a car he was willing to give her …

  He stabbed his fork into one of the blasted beetroot chunks and shoved it grumpily into his mouth. Her eyebrow shot up mischievously and she smiled through her mouthful. He forced his frown deeper, but inside, he couldn’t resist a smile.

  Damned wench.

  Chapter 17

  Tay stared at the ground as he followed Andie to the front door, the frown still on his face from lunch. He’d tried to push the thought aside for the remainder of their meal and while they walked through a few more dealerships. She hadn’t seemed anywhere near as interested in any of those cars as she had in the one she’d looked at before lunch. Inside, he agreed. That car suited her most, and it was the best value for money out of any of the ones they had looked at.

  Still, he hadn’t expected her to buy one that day.

  Buying a car wasn’t just a simple decision. She needed time to think it over, and decide what she wanted and what payment avenue she wanted to pursue. He could understand that. But that wasn’t what bothered him now. She’d taken to the afternoon of looking at cars better than she had that morning. As though she was seriously considering it, now that she knew she had options. And she should. She should take him up on his offer, even if he was in two minds about it.

  His frown deepened as she stopped a couple of metres from the door. No, it wasn’t the cars that bothered him. What bothered him was that he’d been able to share his food with her without even realising it—something he never took lightly. He looked up at her as she turned slowly around to face him. He stopped a few feet away from her.

  He wasn’t getting too comfortable with her, was he? Surely, not. He’d barely spent any time with her in the grand scheme of things. And most of their conversations had been antagonising and frustrating. But still, there was something there in her eyes, something in the way she looked up at him, that made him wonder …

  She lifted her chin to look up at him. He realised that she was shorter than she’d been any other time he’d been with her. She’d mostly worn heels when he saw her, the shoes adding a few extra inches to her height. His eyes dropped to her feet.

  Flat shoes suited her better, he decided. She looked more comfortable, for starters. And their height difference just seemed so … perfect. Adorable. And the way she looked up at him … A rumble started at the base of his throat and he squashed it down. No. He couldn’t. They couldn’t. She was officially friends with Libby, which meant she was officially off limits. Still …

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, bringing him back to the present.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘For lunch. And for car shopping with me.’

  He nodded. ‘You will think about it? My offer?’

  She bit into her lip and, once again, he fought the rumble. The thought that she was his sister’s friend was starting to sound less convincing. After all, he’d met her first.

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Good.’ Good? What else could he really say? His thoughts drifted back to when he’d planned on seeing her as little as possible—it wasn’t long ago. And over the course of the day, he’d managed to almost secure more interactions in the future. Especially if she took him up on his offer.

  He
r eyes narrowed, her lips curved upwards, and her head tilted to one side. ‘Are you always this gentlemanly?’ He frowned. She took in a breath, studying him. ‘Opening and closing the car door. Walking me to the front door. Wanting to pay for everything. The food.’

  His frown deepened, and he shrugged. ‘Force of habit.’ His eyes lowered to her supple lips. He still remembered how it felt to kiss them. He wondered if they still tasted the same. ‘Don’t you like it?’ He brought his gaze back to meet hers. Her eyes glinted with mischief and … something else.

  Her lips parted, and she bit into the lower one. ‘I’m not used to it,’ she said quietly, her cheeks slightly tinged.

  ‘I can stop, if you want me to.’

  She shook her head, taking a small step forward, holding his gaze. ‘No, it’s … nice.’

  His head tilted, and his brow furrowed. What was she getting at? Somehow, deep inside, he felt something shift. Like his determination to keep her at arms’ length was faltering. Perhaps it was the wall that he’d built to protect himself coming down one brick at a time. And she was there, tapping away at it with a hammer. Or maybe it was just his imagination, and the fact that he’d never wanted to feel anyone’s touch more than he wanted to feel hers. Her kisses.

  He carefully lifted a hand, cupping her cheek. Her lips parted with a little puff of air. His mind was chaos. His head was telling him to walk away, to keep hold of what little control he still had. To give her up. It couldn’t work between them.

  His body had other ideas.

  They didn’t make sense. Did they?

  Her chin lifted ever so slightly higher, and he felt her cheek press against his palm. He couldn’t hide the rumble anymore, and he noticed the way her tender lips lifted higher on one side and the way her mysterious eyes darkened to a colour that reminded him of moss. A fond memory of childhood.

  Just a kiss …

  That’s all it would be. No more, no less. Another taste of her to keep him going a bit longer. A test, to see if what he’d felt last time was still there.

  His hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingertips diving into her hair, and he moved closer, pulling her towards him, stopping with his mouth inches away from hers, searching her eyes. Her soul. Slowly, her eyes dropped to his lips, and her hand slid up his chest to rest against the soft bristles of his jawline. That was all he needed.