God, he’s handsome, plays on repeat in my head for the hundredth time today as he follows me. I step into my office, twisting to walk backward toward my desk. “I’m surprised to see you.”
“I wanted you to know how sincere I am and thought one more face-to-face before our date on Thursday night might not be a bad thing.”
Our date. It was easy to say yes to him, but there’s nothing simple about it and the emotions twisting my stomach in knots. I pride myself on doing the right thing, and being drawn to Drew when I’m still connected to Matthew feels a little wrong even though I’m free to do whatever I want.
It’s just a date, I remind myself.
“You’re the activities director,” he says, having noted the placard on my door.
“Yes.”
“How long have you worked here?”
I take a seat at my desk. He sits across from me in the mustard-yellow chenille slip-covered chair I picked up at the Rose Bowl swap meet. “A few years. I started as an assistant while I was in grad school.”
He looks around the room. At my bookcase filled with well-loved novels, framed pictures, and small knickknacks. At the antique coatrack in the corner where I hang all sorts of clothing items. And at the distressed-wood bulletin board where I post cards, notes, inspirational quotes and cute magnets.
“Nice office.”
“Thanks. So, about your grandma,” I say, hoping to fix that white lie.
His friendly gaze settles back on me. “Her eightieth birthday is a few weeks away. She is smart, funny, sly when she wants to be, and full of more love than she knows what to do with. I hope I’m half as sharp as she is when I’m her age. She also likes to butt into her grandsons’ business and lately that means she’s been playing matchmaker for me.”
I can’t help but smile at his sweet words and the fondness in his voice. “I meant we should probably come clean.”
“Probably.” Drew glances at the photo sitting on my desk of me, Gabby, Diego, and our grandparents taken on their fifty-fifth wedding anniversary.
“Those are your grandparents?”
“Yes.”
“Does your grandmother ever try and set you up?”
I shake my head. “She passed away two years ago. My grandfather right afterward.” We knew he wouldn’t want to remain on this earth without the love of his life.
“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching across the desk to squeeze my hand. The gesture catches me off guard and feels nice, so when his touch lingers longer than necessary, I don’t pull away.
“I miss them a lot,” I say, suddenly overcome with emotion. “Besides my sister, my grandmother was my best friend. She taught me so much and loved to just sit around and read and talk. She gardened a lot, too, and sang to her vegetables. She said it made them healthier. She doted on my grandpa and whenever he could he held her hand, even at home when it was just the two of them watching cooking shows. They were each other’s one true love.” I let out a breath. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said all that. It was more information than you needed to know.” My cheeks heat in embarrassment. I haven’t rambled on like that in a long time.
“Please don’t be sorry. I’m glad you told me. I could listen to you talk for hours.”
I get to my feet and pick up the canvas bags stacked on the floor. “Hours I don’t have.”
“After your book club, then.”
“How about we save further discussion until our date?” I’m tired and more than a little confused about my reactions to him. I just want to go home and crawl into bed.
“Fair enough.” We walk out of the office and toward the community room. I pause midway so Drew can head back to the reception area.
He eyes me carefully and I wish I knew what he was thinking. “Have a good night.”
“Thanks, you too. Bye.” I spin around and steel myself not to look over my shoulder. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” I say to the book club upon my return. “I got you each a little something to celebrate the start of summer in a couple of weeks.” I hand out the bags to thanks and bright smiles and then drop into my seat. “What did you think of the book?”
Unanimous love and gushing ensues. I knew they would enjoy it. The book includes a wonderful cast of older characters and the European setting is incredible. It’s like you’re in the pages of the book. Add in a spunky heroine and a sexy British hero named Emerson, and it was an unputdownable read. We discuss the story, starting at the beginning. We always break down our discussions to beginning, middle and end.
I’ve just mentioned how much I’d love to go to Italy one day when five pairs of eyes sweep over my head. “Well, hello there,” Claire says.
Oh.
No.
I don’t need to turn to know who is standing behind me.
“Hello, ladies. Pardon the interruption, but I couldn’t end my tour of the center without checking out your book club,” Drew says.
He stayed to tour the center? Not even Gabby has done that. In my periphery I see him move deeper into the room. Matthew has, though. Matthew has spent time here with me and my seniors. That he still pops into my brain like this means something, right?
“What brings a handsome young man like yourself to our senior center?” Ethel asks.
“Not what. Who.”
All eyes swing back to me. “Alejandra Cruz, you didn’t tell us you were dating someone!” Mrs. K. accuses.
“I’m… We’re…” I raise my head to Drew. He arches an eyebrow. I am not going to exaggerate to these kind women. “We haven’t officially gone out yet.”
“Honey, you better lock him down before someone else does,” Claire only half-whispers from beside me.
“I’m all for Alejandra sealing the deal,” Drew says.
Unfamiliar warmth flickers in the pit of my stomach. Maybe Drew likes me for more than what he sees on the outside?
“She is a catch,” Mrs. K. says.
“We’ve been hoping she moves on from Matthew,” Rhoda announces. “He broke her heart even though they both agreed to break up.”
“Okay!” I jump to my feet. This is what happens when you drink wine at book club after the boy you’ve loved since you were seventeen moves to another country. You spill your guts to grandmother figures because you miss yours. “That’s enough. Drew doesn’t need to hear anything else.”
“Actually, I’d love to know more about Alejandra,” Drew says, earning “awws” from the group.
“Can I talk to you, please?” I ask under my breath. I take Drew’s arm and lead him over to the kitchen so we’re out of earshot before I continue. “You need to slow down. You may be used to relationships happening at warp speed, but I’m not. You can’t just show up here and be all charming and smiley and ingratiate yourself with my seniors in under one minute.”
He angles his body so we’re facing each other. He’s several inches taller and I have to look up to meet his unshakable blue-green gaze. “I’m happy to hear that.”
“That we need to go slow?”
“That you think I’m charming and like my smile,” he says without an ounce of modesty. Then he grins and I want to be mad, but I can’t. The corners of his very nice mouth meet the corners of his sparkling eyes and it’s ridiculously appealing.
“You’re too much,” I tell him.
“Of a good thing.”
I shake my head. “Confidence definitely isn’t a problem for you, is it?”
“When I see something I want, I go after it,” he says, his voice a little deeper, a little more indecent.
My heart beats faster. I’m a lightweight when it comes to guys, Matthew being my only boyfriend. Love was a one-time event for my parents and my grandparents and I thought I had that with Matt. Think I have that with him? In the texts we’ve sent to each other to keep in touch, we’ve remained friendly, but superficial, and my feelings have definitely adjusted, but deep down there is still love. He’s been such a huge part of my life, there for all my biggest moments—graduations
, first job, first promotion. And he got me through my greatest losses—our dog Romeo, both my grandparents.
“But,” Drew adds, interrupting my thoughts, “I hear you and will back off.”
Why does that suddenly bother me? “Thank you,” I say then quickly glance away before I’m drawn deeper into his hopeful gaze.
“Alejandra?” He waits for my full attention to return to his. “Is Matthew an issue?”
I blink at his question. Could he tell where my thoughts had strayed? And darn Rhoda for mentioning my ex in the first place. “It’s complicated,” I say. Now is not the time or place to talk about it.
“Was it complicated nine months ago, too?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you left the bar?”
I shake my head. “No, my sister dragged me away.”
“Dragged, huh?” He’s pleased by that.
Which makes me happy. I never wanted to hurt his feelings and that he’s seemingly thought about me as much as I’ve thought about him triggers the same charged awareness I felt that night.
“I left you a note. I hope you got it.”
“I did.” For several heady seconds we stare at one another. “I’m glad ‘some other time’ is here.”
He remembers what I wrote. And despite my conflicted feelings… “I am too.”
“I’m going to take that as a green light, then, and confess I can’t promise I’ll always remember to be on my best behavior.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve wanted to kiss you since that night, and if the opportunity presents itself, I’m going to take it.”
Tingles race down my spine. I wanted to kiss him that night, too. Badly. “You don’t strike me as a man who takes without permission,” I assert, surprising myself. “And I think you’ve figured out I don’t give it easily.”
His eyes drop to my mouth. “But when you eventually do, and trust me you will, the fireworks are going to be explosive.”
How can he sound so full of himself yet so humble at the same time? “You’re impossible.”
“And apparently forgetful when I’m around you, which is why I interrupted your book club. This morning, and then again when I got here, I forgot to get your number.” He takes his cell out of his pocket and types in my digits as I rattle them off. “I’ll phone you so you’ve got mine.”
“Excuse me,” Ethel says, coming up behind Drew and startling me enough to jump away from him. “We’re ready for gelato now.”
“But we’re not even halfway through the book,” I say.
“We thought we’d change it up tonight. Drew, would you like to join us?”
He casts a quick glance at me and when I shrug he turns his entire body to Ethel and says, “I’d love to.”
Ethel gives a thumb-up to the other book club ladies then turns to walk back and I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry. The group doesn’t mean any harm, but the last thing I’d wanted was for them to meet Drew, wasn’t it?
I pull the gelato out of the freezer.
“Can I help?” he asks.
“No, thank you.”
I move around the kitchen, keeping my back to him. Not to be mean, but to take a breather from him. I fill my hands with two types of gelato, two ice cream scoops, and a box of wafer cookies.
“Alejandra, let me help.” He reaches for one of the gelato cartons and I let him take it because it’s cold. He lifts the cookies from my arms next.
“Thanks,” I say, still not looking at him.
We both dish out the sweet treat. He’s got the coffee flavor. I’ve got the chocolate. As I serve Ethel she leans over to Claire and whispers, “He smells really good.” Yes, he does.
Mrs. K. and Rhoda make room for Drew to sit between them. He joins in the discussion, listening as the women talk about the plot and characters before he entertains the over-seventy group with stories of his travels in Europe. It’s safe to say as book club comes to an end, everyone is enamored with him.
Except me.
Or so I tell myself.
Chapter Five
Team Drew
Alejandra
Tuesday morning Gabby and I are at home listening to music. She’s sitting at the kitchen table dressed in a cute coffee-colored jersey mini dress and on her computer filling out paperwork for her new job while I’m on the couch in cut-off shorts and my sunflower tee, attempting to knit my first scarf. Whoever said ‘anyone can easily knit a scarf’ was lying. Or maybe it’s just me and my two left hands. I’m still enjoying the process, though, and the color makes me happy. Pale yellow, like melted butter.
“Holy shit,” Gabby says.
Our house is small: one story with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a family room and kitchen. So even with Carrie Underwood’s vocals filling the air, I hear my sister loud and clear.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Get your ass over here and see.”
It’s not the best place for me to stop knitting, so I bring the scarf with me, plopping down on the chair next to my sister. The table is pushed against the wall, underneath a window. I glance outside at the tree-lined street. The sky is overcast, typical for early June.
Gabby turns the screen of her laptop toward me.
“Holy shit,” I echo, my knitting project slipping through my fingers and onto the floor as I stare at the photo of me with Drew and his grandmother in the lobby of his hotel. The picture is on the celebrity news site, PEOPLE.com. (One of Gabby’s daily internet stops. She loves to stay up on celebrity news.) The headline reads: Drew Auprince With His Grandmother and Mystery Woman on Instagram—Is it Love?
“You didn’t tell me you guys took a picture!” Gabby accuses.
“I assumed you and Landon were keeping an eye on me the whole time.” After leaving the hotel and getting a few minutes alone with her, I filled Gabby in on everything else that happened with Drew.
She scrolls down so we can read the post. It talks about the Auprince family and Rosemary’s popularity on Instagram. The reporter mentions Drew’s status as one of the West Coast’s most eligible bachelors, his hotel, and his brothers. She hypothesizes on the caption Rosemary included and how it implies she’s giving her approval to the relationship between Drew and me.
Sweat breaks out on my forehead. My heart races. We’re not in a relationship! We’ve just met. Or re-met. You know what I mean.
“Do you think anyone will figure out who I am?”
“Let’s hope so.”
“What? No. I do not want that happening.” I shake my head. “We haven’t even gone out yet, Gabs. This is way out of my comfort zone.”
“Exactly.” She lifts her phone off the table and opens Instagram. “This is your walk on the wild side and it’s amazing. Now let’s find out what’s going on.” She locates Rosemary’s account, follows her (of course), then thumbs to the photo and brings it full screen. “There’s over five hundred comments! You need to grab your phone and see if you’ve been tagged.”
I turn and reach up onto the counter where I left it to charge. I have a private account on Instagram with less than a hundred followers and I’m happy to see I haven’t been tagged. “No one has linked to me,” I say. My racing heart slows.
“Bitch,” Gabby mutters under her breath.
“What?”
“Some girl left a racist comment.” Gabby scrolls through more comments.
I pick up my knitting, content to let my sister give me more details, if need be. It is weird that a picture of me with Drew and his grandma has been seen by presumably thousands of people, and for a second, even though I’m sitting in my tiny kitchen with my sister and no one can see us, it feels like all eyes are on me. Scrutinizing me. I shake it off, turn my phone face down on the table and rub my thumb over my lotus tattoo.
“Screw you,” Gabby says to another commenter. “And you. God, people can be such dicks.”
For a minute I’m back in middle school, being judged and bullied by the po
pular girls. Gabby was sent to the principal’s office numerous times for fighting back (often on my behalf), but not me. I always stayed on my best behavior. I saw the pain in my grandmother’s eyes when she had to meet with the principal over Gabby’s conduct.
“Most of the comments are nice,” my sister informs me, her nose buried in her phone. “You should follow Drew and his grandma. I bet they’ll follow you back.” She side-eyes me when I don’t answer right away. “You’re not going to, are you?”
“I might, just not yet.” I have to think about it for longer than two minutes, first.
She turns her phone screen to me. “Here. Check out some of the comments.”
I read no further than the first one that catches my eye: Whoever she is, she’s beautiful. His last girlfriend was blond and plastic-looking. This one looks like that actress Zoe something.
“What’s wrong?” Gabby asks.
“Drew only wants to date me because I look like his favorite actress.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Gabby, he said as much the first time we met.”
“But now he’s getting to know you, and trust me, he’d be an idiot not to fall for the person you are on the inside, too.”
“You’re my sister, you have to say that.”
“No, I don’t.” She gets a thoughtful look on her face. “I know it’s hard for you to trust someone after Matthew left like he did, but so far the guy seems genuinely into you.”
I could argue with her that it’s because he wants in my pants, but the more I think about it, the more it’s clear I haven’t given Drew enough credit. “You’re right.”
“Always am.” She logs out of her computer, cutting off the music. “I have to get going. Don’t worry about the picture okay? I love you.” She kisses my cheek.
“Love you, too. Do you hear that noise?” I put my knitting on the table. “It sounds like running water.”
Hot Shot (American Royalty Book 3) Page 5
