Swiped (Chance Encounter Series Book 2) Page 7

  “You’re not a psychologist.”

  “Sure I am,” he says. “I just let people drink at my office.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “We’re both crazy about each other.”

  “That’s not true.”

  He steps up to me until he’s so close I can feel the heat off his body. “C’mon, Ruby. That’s not fair. I’ve been nothing but honest with you since we met.”

  My breath is shallow, and my heart is pounding through my chest.

  “Say that text was an accident. Say you meant it for someone else. Just take it back. Please,” he says. “And we’ll forget you ever sent it and enjoy a romantic Valentine’s Day this weekend.”

  I blink at him, my mind racing with possibilities. But he’s right. I am scared. I’m downright terrified. Terrified of falling for someone so grown up, someone who’s so much more prepared for what life has in store. Terrified that I can’t love as hard as he deserves—or worse, that loving that hard might destroy me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “But I don’t want to see you anymore.”

  The hurt that floods his eyes is like a stake being driven through my stomach, and as I watch him walk out of my office, all my fears morph into something else.

  Suddenly, I’m terrified I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life.

  T W E L V E

  I take a deep breath, tighten my grip on the bouquet of flowers in my hand, and walk past the front door of Geo’s bar again.

  I’ve been pacing for a good ten minutes now, and the cold is really starting to nip at the tips of my uncovered ears. But I’m not ready to go in yet. So many doubts are swirling in my mind, least of all whether he’ll actually be working tonight.

  Still, I owe him an apology.

  After he showed up at my office, all I could think about was The Rocking Chair Test. I can’t remember where I heard about it, but the basic idea is that when you’re trying to decide whether or not to do something, you should think about how you’ll feel looking back on the decision when you’re ninety years old in your rocking chair.

  Needless to say, the thought couldn’t be haunting me more if I had a rocking chair tattooed on my cheek.

  After all, what if Geo’s right? What if we really have something, and I chickened out and cheated us both?

  Yes, I’m still intimidated by his big family and by the fact that he has a kid, especially one who’s old enough to form her own opinions. And of course I’m still afraid of the hidden depths of my own feelings.

  But is that a good reason to stay in my casual dating comfort zone forever? To never risk being more to anyone than a notch on their bedpost? Deep down, I feel too young to be serious about someone, but what is it Toto says? Love isn’t always on time?

  Besides, when I think about the people I most admire—people like Charles Darwin and Martin Luther King Jr. and Lady Gaga—they all took on new challenges before they were ready.

  Just like I’m not ready for Geo.

  Granted, there’s a very good chance that I’m too late, that he’s going to laugh in my face. Or worse, he’ll make no face at all, so I won’t be able to read him, and I’ll leave feeling like a fool.

  But at least I won’t regret never telling him the truth someday when I’m old and frail and daydreaming about the sexy Italian bartender who made me feel like I had wings.

  I sigh, turn around at the corner again, and decide that this time—for better or for worse—I’m going in. Because I might be young and scared and stupid, but I am not a liar, and I do believe in doing the right thing, even when it’s difficult and I’m guaranteed to look like an ass.

  When I push open the door to Geo’s bar, a wave of heavy warmth smacks me in the face. The place is packed, and there’s no ignoring the fact that it’s Valentine’s Day.

  Groups of girls in short red dresses pass shots around their tables, and groups of men leer at the meat market around them. And of course there are couples, too, leaning over tables so they can hear each other as they whisper saccharine confessions about how glad they are that they have each other and don’t have to participate in this parade of singles on the prowl.

  But it’s all a distraction. I’m not here to black out and make bad decisions. Yes, that is very much my backup plan, but I want to prove Cassie wrong and do the brave thing, the right thing, the thing that scares me.

  Geo’s laughing and using a towel to dry the depths of a pint glass when I find him. My mind runs straight to the gutter, but I rein it in because this isn’t about sex. Sure, I’m wearing a low-cut top, and every hair on my head is right where I sprayed it into place, but that’s to be expected. What self-respecting woman doesn’t go out of her way to look delicious when issuing a tail-between-the-legs apology to a man who missed his calling as an underwear model due to ambition and family values?

  Oh god. I am such an asshole.

  I walk up to the bar closest to where he’s working and wait my turn in a fluid third row of thirsty customers, doing my best to keep my head down so he doesn’t notice me until I get to the front. When it’s my turn to wiggle up to the bar, he turns around to take the next order and his face drops.

  “Ruby.”

  The sounds of the noisy bar around me fade, and everything around him blurs. I lay the flowers on the bar between us.

  He glances down at them, and when he looks back up, his eyes are full of questions.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “You were right about everything.”

  “Order a drink or get out of the way,” some asshole behind me yells.

  Geo calls to one of the girls on the other side of the bar, something about covering for him. Then he grabs the flowers and tilts his head at me.

  I push through the crowd towards the back of the bar and follow him into the supply closet.

  He closes the door and lays the flowers on a stack of wooden wine crates. “I can’t hear a goddamned thing out there.”

  “It’s good, though, right?” I say, clasping my hands in front of me. “That you’re busy?”

  “I’d rather be busy with other things.” His eyes fall down my body but don’t smile.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you.” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I chickened out.”

  He clenches his jaw.

  “For a long time I’ve been pretending that I want a serious relationship, one with real feelings and a real future, but I had no idea what that might look like, no idea how frightening it would be to actually face down that prospect.”

  He folds his arms so his muscles strain in his shirt.

  “And I definitely wasn’t ready to care about someone other than myself, especially someone who’s far more experienced in that area.” I swallow. “At least, I have to assume I wasn’t ready based on my behavior.”

  He licks his lips, but his expression stays stoic.

  “But it’s not true that I don’t care about you. I do. And I wish I could take it all back. That I could go back and not freak out, not use your little girl as an excuse to keep my distance, not let my issues with my stepmother pollute the good thing we had.”

  He nods but doesn’t step towards me.

  “Which isn’t to say I don’t have a long list of concerns about why we might not work, but I realize now that’s only another excuse to lean on because I’m afraid to be vulnerable.” I scratch the back of my head and wish I knew what the hell to do with my hands. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m a control freak or a coward or because I work with people who are hurting every day and I don’t want to get hurt.”

  “No one wants to get hurt, Ruby. That doesn’t make you special.”

  “I know that. That’s why I came to apologize,” I say, dropping my hands at my sides. “And also, I wanted to thank you.”

  He furrows his thick brows. “Thank me for what?”

  “For waking me up to the fact that the way I’ve been going isn’t all that inspiring and that if I want to be ready for more, I have to change my expectations, raise my standards,
and be open to feelings I can’t control.”

  “It’s not that big a deal,” he says. “It’s just a matter of trusting yourself.”

  “I guess that’s easier said than done.” I force a smile. “But I’m going to try to follow my heart from now on instead of just trying to protect it.”

  “Is that it?” he asks. “Because my staff really need me out there tonight.”

  My heart sinks in my chest. “Yeah. That’s all I came to say.”

  “Well, I appreciate you being honest with me,” he says, draping his hand over the doorknob. “And I wish you every happiness. I really do.”

  I want to beg him to give me another chance, but I know that’s more than I deserve. “Thanks,” I say, blinking back the tears. “You too.”

  He opens the door, and the noise of the crowd overwhelms us again. “Happy Valentine’s day, Ruby,” he says as I step past him. Then he closes the door to the storage closet and goes back to work, leaving me with a Geo-sized hole in my heart.

  T H I R T E E N

  I usually leave the office at this time on a Friday, but one of my clients begged me to stay late and meet with her. Normally, I would discourage such dependent behavior, but she’s particularly heartbroken, and I’m extra sympathetic to her cause right now.

  After all, I’m heartbroken, too. Not because I married a piece of shit who knocked me up three times and then left me for his secretary, but because Geo hasn’t called, and what little hope I had that he might accept my apology and give me another chance has shriveled inside me like a raisin.

  Surprisingly, though, I haven’t been crying myself to sleep at night. But I think that’s only because it hasn’t sunk in yet that I blew it with the only truly eligible bachelor I’ve had feelings for since my favorite psych professor in college. Of course, he didn’t feel the same about me—unlike Geo, who wanted me from the second I started undoing my buttons.

  I’m too proud to go see him again, though. Or perhaps too stubborn. Too sad.

  I mean, we could’ve had something if I hadn’t had such an immature freak-out. Instead, I feel doomed to an existence where everything simply reminds me of him. Other people’s eyelashes, for example. They just don’t compare to his. And hands. Everywhere I look I see hands that make me think of his large, capable ones.

  My neck flushes at the thought of his touch, and a moment later I’m filled with the fear that my body may never sing like that again.

  I’m even too sad to masturbate, which hasn’t happened since the first time I tried it.

  The only good thing that’s come out of it is that I haven’t downloaded Tinder again. Sure, if it weren’t for the app, I wouldn’t have met him, but now that I have, I can’t get excited about subjecting myself to a bunch of lousy dates with boys. Especially now that I know what it’s like to be with a real man.

  I deserve better, and as lonely as I am now, I’m grateful to him for making me see that.

  I pinch the string of my teabag and lift it out of my mug, squeezing it so a few dribbles of green tea goodness fall through the rising steam. Then I toss it in the small garbage can behind me before lifting my eyes to the clock on the wall.

  It’s unlikely that my client will be on time, but I walk to the door to check since I always let my assistant leave a bit early on Fridays. I jump when I open the door, startled to find someone right outside it, his large hand poised as if he were about to knock.

  “Geo.”

  He drops his hand.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I needed to see you,” he says. “Is now an okay time?”

  I glance past him at the empty waiting room. “Yeah. I mean…I have a few minutes. Come in.” I step back and pull the door open wider to make way for his broad shoulders.

  He runs a hand over his perfectly styled hair as he walks to the middle of my office.

  “Have a seat,” I say, extending a hand towards the small couch.

  He ignores me and stays standing, his loose leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and his dark jeans hugging his legs.

  My whole body is happy to see him, and I can feel my heart swelling at his proximity as I close the door behind me and lean on it, as if I’m subconsciously trying to keep him here.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t called,” he says.

  I press my lips together.

  “I just didn’t want to say anything I’d regret, and to be honest, I deleted your number.”

  A sharp pang pierces my gut.

  “I was pretty hurt and angry by the shit you pulled,” he says. “And then I was angry at myself for not being angrier, for still wanting you after the way you jerked me around.”

  I swallow.

  “But I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says. “I’ve tried, believe me. I’ve tried, and I can’t.”

  I cross my arms and lean off the door, biting my lip to keep from smiling.

  “I don’t want to be a memory to you,” he says. “I still want to be more than that.”

  I take a deep breath when I realize I haven’t breathed since he arrived.

  “I know I’m not perfect,” he says. “That my…situation isn’t ideal, but I don’t want to live with regret, and I’ve never felt more regret in my life than I felt last week after I let you walk away.” He takes a few steps towards me. “I know your life could be simpler without me in it, but I don’t think it can be better.”

  I drop my eyes to his lips before lifting them again.

  “So—” He clenches his jaw, his dark eyes bouncing back and forth between mine. “Knowing what you know now, would you let me take you out again?”

  My heart is pounding against my chest like it’s trying to leap into his hands, and I’m desperate for his touch. If only he would reach out and push my hair away from my face or tilt my chin up. But he stays still, watching me and waiting for my answer. “I would,” I say. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  He grabs me then and hugs me so hard against his chest it makes tears well up in my eyes. I blink them back and wrap my arms around him, standing on my tiptoes so I can press my whole body against his.

  For a moment he just holds me like that, but then he releases me and grabs my face, kissing me like he’s trying to put out a fire on my lips. His hands ruffle my hair, and then he wraps one around the back of my neck and drops the other to my lower back, igniting a burst of heat in my core that I haven’t felt since the last time his hands were on me.

  I’ve forgotten where we are when I hear a knock on the door. I push myself back and try to catch my breath. “One second,” I say, panting.

  Geo furrows his brow.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, smoothing my hair and clothes and rolling my shoulders back in an effort to collect myself. “I have another client.”

  “Just one?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “And after?”

  I shrug one shoulder. “Maybe we could go for a drink or something?”

  “I’d like that.”

  My eyes smile. “Me too.”

  “A belated Valentine’s Day celebration,” he says. “Since we fucked it up the first time.”

  “Okay.”

  He steps back up to me and wraps his fingers around mine. His gaze is so intoxicating I feel like I’m in a movie, like the orchestra is going to kick in at any moment and the credits are going to roll up the screen.

  “The sooner I get on with my appointment,” I say. “The sooner we can celebrate.”

  “Say no more,” he says, releasing my hands and letting himself out.

  I peek around the door in time to catch Trisha staring at Geo’s ass as he leaves.

  When she turns around, her eyes are wide. “Who’s that?” she asks, pointing towards the door as it swings shut. “Maybe you can introduce me to him?”

  “Sorry,” I say with a smile. “He’s taken.”

  “Is he…?” She furrows her brow and points at me. “With you?”

  I nod and step back, gesturi
ng for her to come in my office.

  “Damn, girl,” she says in a tone of voice I’ve never heard from her. “As if I didn’t already feel bad enough asking you to stay late on a Friday.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, closing the door behind her. “I’m happy to help.”

  She sits down on the couch and wiggles her coat off behind her.

  For the next hour, I do my best to listen, and it’s easier than I thought it would be, as if I’m lighter than usual. Calmer. As if having the affection of a real man has somehow fortified my very bones.

  Of course, it’s easy to be relaxed when you have much to look forward to.

  Especially on Valentine’s Day.

  F O U R T E E N

  I leave the door cracked after Trisha leaves and undo an extra button before tidying my desk so my office is ready for Monday morning. I’ve just cleared it when Geo taps on the door and pokes his head in.

  “Are you off for the night?”

  “I’m all yours,” I say, leaning against the front of my desk and extending my hands to my sides.

  “Excellent,” he says, pushing the door open.

  My eyes drop to his hands, one of which is holding a bouquet of deep red roses. The other contains a bottle of champagne.

  “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

  “Of course I did,” he says, walking over to me. “If we’re going to give this a go, I intend to do things right this time.”

  I take the roses and press my nose into one, inhaling the sweet scent. “You did everything right before,” I say. “I just wasn’t used to being treated so well, and I got scared.”

  “I know,” he says, setting the champagne on my desk. “But you needn’t be. Like I told you the first time we went out, I won’t hurt you.” He lifts my chin with his finger. “And I won’t rush you either.”

  I give him a hug again and am instantly soothed by being back in his arms, calmed by the feel of his hand on the back of my head.

  As soon as he lets me go, his eyes flick down to my chest, and one corner of his mouth curves into a smile. “Did you lose a button?”