Page 95 of Nothing to Fear

“I get that.”

“And I think you’re incredible, but if you haven’t noticed, my life is a mess right now. I can’t even think about dating until I straighten things out.”

In her entire life? Yeah, that was an unachievable goal, maybe she’d never have sex again.

“What’s the problem?” he asked. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”

Yeah, ‘cause that worked out so well the last time. “This is my problem. It’s my problem I have two apartments. It’s my problem that I don’t know if I can afford either. If I can’t pay the moving stipend, it’ll be storage, or my old landlord will—”

“What are you talking about?”

Why was he confused? This wasn’t difficult.

“What do you mean what am I talking about?” she asked. “You forgot we spent yesterday filling boxes? Now I have to get everything from A to B and—”

“It’s done.”

Just nothing. The look on his face was completely neutral, yet she was absolutely lost.

“What’s done?”

“The move,” he said and frowned. “That was the plan. We did the paperwork and the packing yesterday; me and the guys did the heavy lifting today while you were at work. Cleaners went in to do their thing too. Gave my keys back to the landlord. It’s done.”

Even her mind stuttered. “But… we—last night we—”

“Last night didn’t change anything. Together means together, argument or not.” How could he be so…? Oh, where were her defenses? “Baby…” His hand rose, but she pushed her shoulders back, leaning away while scanning the store. No customers and Yvette was busy with Nessa and Ward at the other counter. The cameras would be watching though. “Have dinner with me. Please, Cherry, you have to let me touch you.”

“Not here,” she murmured under her breath. “You know we can’t.”

“Have dinner with me.” His voice got a little stronger. “Tonight, tomorrow, this weekend, whenever you want.” What was right? God, that determination in his eyes, tinged with pleading… “I’m your guy.”

And whatever went on last night, he’d proved himself that day. He’d proved himself a million times over. He wasn’t petty or petulant, Darroch Breckenridge was a real stand-up guy, solid, dependable. Oh, God, she could be in serious trouble.

Celeste appeared behind the others and gasped in elation. “What a surprise! Wonderful.”

“Tomorrow,” she whispered with Celeste barreling toward them. “At eight. I’ll meet you at Blaze.”

“Darroch,” Celeste said before he could acknowledge her murmur. “What brings you to us today?”

“Missed you.” He walked Celeste’s way. “Come and meet Ward.”

As Celeste turned he glanced back and winked. Yeah, he got it. Tomorrow gave her something to look forward to.

THIRTY

SHE DID LOOK forward to it, until she got there. Fernando seated her in a private dining room that gave them cover to conduct their romance in secret. Excellent! Only… there was no “they” yet. Being the only one in there made her isolation all the starker. Nothing to see here. Just a woman by herself, she shouldn’t be humiliated yet, should she? What was the clock on being stood up?

Okay, so she’d shown up early, eager to thank him for what he’d accomplished the previous day. The Breckenridges didn’t just move her things, the old apartment was spotless, and her things had been unpacked at the new place. Not her clothes in the suitcases though. Good. Gave her something to do and a little dignity. Everything else was in cabinets, in drawers, even the TV had been wall-mounted upstairs in the bedroom loft. Not where she’d have put it, but, okay.

They’d built her furniture, made her bed—it was so much more than she’d anticipated. And if she’d had Darroch’s number, she might have called to tell him that. Just as well she didn’t or something inappropriate may have crossed her lips. A man like him was a blessing. Genuine, honest, kind, he didn’t know how to disrespect her.

Except… clearly he did.

Why couldn’t they get it together? If it was supposed to happen, it would happen. They had to decide to jump in or clear out. By that logic, if they weren’t supposed to happen, these obstacles would continue to shoot up in their way. At some point, eventually, she’d have to take fate’s hint.

Was that why he hadn’t showed? He’d changed his mind? Decided she was too much trouble? Found someone far more glamorous and—no, not that last one, he wouldn’t ditch out like that. What kind of guy wouldn’t ditch out on an apartment move but would on dinner?

Nine, he’d be there by—okay, so nine thirty… How long was she going to sit there drinking wine she couldn’t afford?

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