by DM Davis
Her friends are laughing, having a great time, and she’s sitting there holding herself back, not fully engaged.
My gut clenches. Why? My vision. Why?
“Not a date,” Marcus concludes.
The all-too-attentive Blond Guy notices her withdrawal. He studies her for a moment before leaning in—too close, too fucking close—and whispers in her ear while his hand tenderly caresses her back.
Fuck me if I don’t want to pummel him for being in the same room with her, much less touching her.
She responds with a soft smile, small nod, and rises to her feet. Blond Guy stands, pulling her chair out.
“Motherfucker wants it to be a date.” Reese laughs. “Guy’s lovestruck.”
Lauren says something to him and heads down a hall that leads to the loo.
Now’s my chance.
“I’ll be back.” I hop off my stool, ignoring whoops from Reese and Marcus.
Arseholes.
I should have gone home instead of coming to happy hour with Tyler, Silvy, and Clint, the new guy. But I’m tired of saying no, of letting people down. Particularly Silvy and Tyler. I can only turn them down so many times before they start to take it personally. It really isn’t about them. They’ve been nothing but supportive, giving me space, letting me adjust, find my footing.
Washing my hands, I close my eyes and take a fortifying breath.
You can do this.
The reflection in the mirror is a woman I don’t recognize most days.
Will I ever be me again?
If I linger much longer, someone will come looking for me. I step out, glancing left and right, then freeze. The hall narrows and stretches like a cartoon fun house, popping back into place with Mr. Dark and Dreamy standing there at the end. His broad shoulders and wide stance eat up the width of the corridor. There’s no avoiding him, not that I want to.
He moves with the grace of panther, hands flexing at his sides, his dark gaze setting me aflame. He stops mere inches from me.
“You?” I breathe. His presence, sucking all the oxygen from the room, makes my head spin. I need to sit down.
“It’s you.” His deep rasp caresses the fantasies I haven’t been able to pause in my head. “I’ve been looking for you.”
God, that accent. I’ve forgotten how sexy it is—how sexy he is. “You have?” I’ve been looking for you too. Everywhere, insanely so.
He sticks his hand out. “I’m Theo.”
“Theo.” I try it on for size. It fits nicely. Too nicely. “I’m—”A zap shoots up my arm when his hand encompasses mine. Warm. Strong. Safe. Home. Those words dance in my head as I’m inundated with visions of being warm and safe, and loved—by him.
“Lauren.” He smiles. “I couldn’t forget you,” he whispers in awe. His eyes slowly scan down my face to our joined hands and back up. “Did you feel—”
“Are you ready to go?” A normally welcomed face appears over Theo’s shoulder, knocking me out of my haze. Tyler doesn’t look too pleased to find me in the hallway with another man.
“I…this…” I squeeze Theo’s hand as if communicating some secret, DNA-sequenced code that only we understand before releasing it reluctantly. “Yes.” I don’t know how to explain who Theo is.
He’s everything. What? No.
Theo’s furrowed brow and scrutinizing gaze turn ever so slowly from me to Tyler. His hand that held mine only seconds ago is offered to Tyler like a challenge. “Theo.” His voice has an edge—a warning.
“Tyler.” Tyler’s response is curt, his voice huskier than normal.
Their eyes meet, hands flex. Theo’s jaw clenches, and Tyler’s eyes narrow. It’s a standoff, contempt rolling off them, teasing the air with testosterone.
Tyler breaks the stalemate, placing his hand on my lower back. “We’d better go. We’ve got an early morning.”
Theo steps back. A frown replaces the smile he wore only moments ago. The heat in his eyes—gone.
He’s given up so easily.
Or maybe I imagined the sparks between us.
“Okay.” I barely make eye contact with either of them. “It was nice to see you again, Theo.” I manage a small smile and glance at him one more time to see if he’ll say something. Anything.
A nod and a side step are all the response I get.
I guess I read him wrong.
My heart plummets.
I don’t look back as we return to the table to collect our things and head out.
I’m quiet on the ride home, wishing I’d driven myself, granting the solitude I desperately need right now.
It’s better this way—my world staying small. I’m not in the market for making new friends.
And apparently Theo was only being polite, saying hi. If he’d truly been interested, he would’ve asked for my number or asked me to stay for a drink with him.
My heart flutters at the thought. Would I have stayed?
I guess I’ll never know.
AS IF SENSING MY SADNESS OVER the loss of Theo—not that I ever had him—Tyler has been more attentive than ever. He assumes my sadness is about Holly. Perhaps he’s partially correct. I’m not the same person I once was. But truly, it’s the loss of the idea of Theo. The possibility, the hope—the fact that I could be so wrong about his attraction to me—that has me down.
My need to withdraw, disconnect is stronger than ever. I’m adrift with no tether to keep me grounded. Something drastic needs to be done, or I fear I will simply float away.
“Hey.” Tyler’s head pops into view before he steps through my office door. He’s entirely too chipper for me today.
“Hey.” I try to give him the genuine smile he deserves.
“I’m heading out for lunch.” He motions to the door. “Do you want me to bring you something back? Or better yet, why don’t you come with me?”
God, his panty-dropping grin should have me jumping up to accept his offer. I had a huge crush on him when he started working here. But when he became my boss, I worked doubly hard to see him as only my boss and not the red-blooded, Eddie Bauer model type he is. Most days I don't even see him in that way. But some days, like today, I wish I could fall in love with him. I know him. He knows me. He knows my past, well, most of it. I think I could make it work—if he was interested. He could make me happy. We don’t have the live-wire connection I thought I had with Theo, but that turned out to be nothing. So maybe if I wasn’t so sad, if I wasn’t so broken, it could work.
But reality is a bitch, and my reality is that I am broken, and Tyler doesn’t see me as girlfriend material.
They rarely do.
And I don’t do flings. I can’t.
“I appreciate it, but I think I’ll pass. I’ve got a lot to get done before the end of the day.” I can’t work late. Not today. I need to get to bed early. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.
His smile falls, and his demeanor changes as if I’ve crushed his spirit. Not possible. I’ve got to get my head on straight. I’m seeing things that aren’t there.
Change. I need a change. Tomorrow is a start, but it’s not enough.
“Okay.” He turns to go but stops at the door. “You know I’m here for you, right? If you need something, anything. I’m here.”
“I know. I appreciate that.” My hands fidget in my lap. “You’re a great boss. Thank you.”
“I’m your friend too.” His voice is more censure than comfort.
“Of course.” His eyes beseech me in a way I don’t understand. Last week was the first time we’d seen each other outside of work in a long time. I’m not sure that truly constitutes friendship, considering it was all work people at the happy hour where we ran into Theo. Ah, he stressed “friend” for a reason. Not like he has to worry about me getting the wrong idea. “I just…”
He shakes me off, not letting me finish, though I’m not sure what I was going to say. “Text me if you change your mind about food. Good luck tomorrow.” He doesn’t give me a second look as he disappears o
ut my door.
I feel like I broke something between us, something intangible I didn’t even know was there. I push it to the back of my mind. If I dwell on it too much, I’ll make it into more than it is. He feels protective of me. And that protectiveness comes from what happened last year, not from having romantic feelings for me. Tyler is a good guy. It’s in his nature to protect. He’d be this way with any of his employees, I’m sure, friends too.
He clearly doesn’t want me to get the wrong idea, mistaking niceness for romantic interest.
Before I can chicken out, I text Silvy.
Me: If you still want to, sign us up for those classes.
It takes mere seconds before the little dots start dancing.
Silvy: OMG! Yes! Yes! I’m on it.
Her exuberance makes me laugh. Even in texts she’s a ball of energy.
Me: Thank you. Send me the details.
Silvy: You won’t regret this. It’ll be great. You’ll see.
Me: I hope you’re right.
Silvy: I am. I so totally am!
I’ll have to take her word for it. Trust that this is the right thing to do—right for me—right for my future. A step in the right direction to keep me firmly planted.
The lake is serene as runners begin to trickle in, making their way to the sign-in tents, gearing up or stretching on the grass-covered shoreline. It’s early, still an hour before the 10K begins. I’ve checked in, received my number, and stretched. There’s not much to do besides people-watch and wait until it’s time to line up for my event.
As much as I try not to, I can’t help it. Everywhere I go, I look for her. I can’t believe I let her slip through my fingers a second time, but she was there with someone. Still, she had to have felt that connection, the same connection I felt when we first met and only intensified when I took her hand.
Even if Tyler is her boyfriend, I still should have gotten her phone number, her email, her last name, anything to keep in touch. She’s not meant to be with him. She’s meant for me. I know it as I know the sun is shining and that each breath I take is another painful moment without her in my life.
After my fiancée left with her tosser of an ex-boyfriend, my father made me promise not to give up. He spoke like he knew my perfect someone was still out there. I didn’t buy into the idea. I simply gave up hope. I moved to the States, got a job, found some friends with common interests, and reconnected with Reese, who had moved back to the States after graduation to start his own architectural firm.
I quench my thirst for a woman now and again. Never the same woman. Never someone I know—or who has a connection to me—and never in my home. My home is my sanctuary where I let my guard down and only friends and family are permitted. A one-night stand—a hard fuck—doesn’t fit that bill.
Reese understands. He operates in much the same way, not because he’s damaged from his past, but because he’s a commitment-phobe with no desire to settle down. He’s my wingman. Though, since meeting my dream in the flesh a few weeks ago, my body only craves her body—her touch—and not for one night, but for eternity.
It should freak me the hell out, but it doesn’t. It’s as if I was made for her, merely biding my time until the fates brought us together. And they have, only I’ve screwed up twice now in letting her slip away.
After having recurring dreams of her for as long as I can remember, I found her…and let her walk away.
Twice.
What is wrong with me?
The announcement for the next event garners my attention. The 15K runners line up, which means I have fifteen minutes before my race begins. I stretch one final time, check my laces, take a bottled water from a passing volunteer, and watch as the runners from this leg of the race pass by. As the pack thins, the opposite side of the course comes back into view.
And that’s when I see her.
Hit square in the chest, I jerk back from the electrical strike. Literally struck, not a metaphorical strike of emotions, but a full-on physical attack that sends sparks coursing through my body and sucks the air out of my lungs. Bloody fucking hell!
I don’t bother looking around to see if anyone else was hit. It’s not a thunderstorm that narrowed its sights on me. It’s her. She’s the cause.
It’s a sensation I’m weirdly becoming accustomed to. It hits me every time I see her—or touch her—though the other two times were not nearly as powerful. I catch my breath and eat up the ground between us. She hasn’t seen me yet, but there’s no chance in hell I’m missing this opportunity.
“Lauren,” I growl. My need to claim her overpowers my desire to woo her.
“Theo?” Her brows shoot up in shock as she stumbles, turning towards me.
I catch her arm as she rights herself—skin to skin—and a blazing heat consumes me.
She gasps and glances at our connection before she locks on me.
“Tell me you feel that,” I entreat. Tell me you feel this thing between us too.
“Yes.” Her voice is a mere whisper. Perhaps she’s in awe as much as I am.
Thank fuck.
I fight the urge to pull her into my arms. There’s time enough for that later. Now I need something else. “Tell me your last name.” I search for my phone. Time is of the essence.
Fuck! I left it in the car.
“Frasier. Lauren Frasier. Why?”
“Why?” I nearly chuckle. “Because I’m not losing you again.” I look around, trying to spot something to write with. “Do you have a pen?”
“No. Not on me.” She’s laughing. At. Me.
Of course not, we’re getting ready to run a race. “Are you running?” I finally look at her, really look at her. She’s dressed like me—shorts and t-shirt with a number on it. Fuck! No pockets. “Do you have your phone?”
“Yes, I’m running. And, no, I didn’t think I’d need my phone.”
“Don’t move.” I rush to the nearest volunteer, looking over my shoulder to be sure Lauren is still there. “Do you have a pen and paper?”
“Um…I should.” The volunteer digs in her waist pack. “Just a sec.”
I glance at Lauren, confirming she hasn’t moved. Come on, lady. I don’t have all day.
“Here! Here.” She hands me a pencil and a piece of paper. “Will that do?”
It will have to. “Thank you,” I reply over my shoulder as I head back to Lauren.
I rip the paper in two and hand one half to her. “Here. Write your name and number on it.”
She glowers, pursing her lips. “But I thought you weren’t interested.”
Not interested? “I only have a few minutes before my race begins. Please, write down your information, and I’ll do the same. Then we can talk about whatever you want.” Make it clear to you that I am most definitely interested.
She smiles and bites her lip to tame it, unsuccessfully.
Bloody hell, I want to free that lip with my mouth.
“Okay.” She acquiesces and motions for me to turn around. Her hand touches my back, and I can feel her writing on the paper.
“I can’t believe I found you again.” I glance over my shoulder.
“Be still,” she chides, but I don’t miss the glint in her eyes before I turn away.
“I’m done.” She hands me the pencil and turns her back to me.
I set the paper on her back and start to write my name and cell number. “Can I write on your t-shirt?” Your shorts, your shoes, your arm, your leg, and anywhere else I can write to ensure you have my information.
“Sure, if you want to. Or you could have just written on my bib.” She giggles.
“That would have made too much sense.” Why didn’t I think of that? I could have been writing on her chest, near those perfect, luscious breasts. I hand her my piece of paper. “Theo Wade.”
She hands me hers. “Lauren Frasier.”
“Lauren, I don’t care if you have a boyfriend. Tell me you’ll go out with me one time. Give me a chance to win you over.” To steal you away
.
“I…boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“That guy. Tyler. He’s not your boyfriend?”
“Tyler?” She laughs. “He’s my boss.”
“You’re dating your boss?”
“No,” she insists. “He’s only my boss. I’m not dating him or anyone else, for that matter.”
I’m not dating him or anyone else. That statement, right there, puts a cocky grin on my face. I stand a bit taller and my shoulders feel broader.
“He seemed rather territorial to just be your boss.” He was practically pissing on your leg.
She blushes, shaking her head. “No. No. He’s protective. He doesn’t see me like that.”
The hell he doesn’t.
I’m not wasting another breath discussing this guy. She doesn’t have a boyfriend. She’s free…to be mine. “Listen, I’d like to skip this race.” I scan the sky as if the solution will appear written in the clouds. “But I have supporters paying good money to see me finish. I…it’s for charity, and I don’t want to let them down.”
“What charity?” She lights up, not at all hurt that I’m not canceling my plans for her.
“Raven’s Hope. It’s a children’s charity.”
Her ponytail bobs as she nods. “That’s a good one.”
I step closer. “Have dinner with me. Have coffee with me. Meet me at the finish line and have a gallon of water with me while we recover. Say yes.”
“Yes.” That blush is back, and I couldn’t love it more.
“Yes?” I confirm.
“Yes. I’ll meet you at the finish line.” She taps my bib where it says which event I’m in. “But you’ll beat me. I’m not running the 10K.”
I inspect her bib, seeing the 5K under her number. “I’ll wait. I won’t leave. I’ll be there.”
The announcement rings out for the 10K participants to line up.
“That’s me.” I regret our time has been cut short, again. “You’ll meet me?”
“I’ll be there,” she confirms.
I grab her hand. The zing is still there, but calmer now. “Believe me when I say I’ve never meant anything more when I tell you—I cannot wait.”
