Page 10 of Off Court Fix

The intensity of her stare is so strong I curl my toes inside my shoes. I purse my lips, eager to know what’s going on inside her mind.

Maxine stares before turning her head back to the front of the church. I shift, and the bag of nuts I’ve pocketed crinkles. I pull them out and hold them over the pew to offer her some.

“I’m allergic to peanuts.”

Immediately, I close my fist around the waxy bag and rise, moving to the aisle and heading to the back of the church in search of a trash can. Her eyes burn into my back, but with each step I take farther away, I swear on Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and every saint up there in the stained-glass windows that itsmolders. But with only curiosity or something else, I’m not sure yet. I guess there’s only one way to find out.

I find a small trash can at the side of the door and chuck the bag, then head back to where Maxine sits, still staring.

“You didn’t have to throw them away,” Maxine tells me.

I remain standing. “I did. Can’t risk it over a bag of nuts.” She eyes me curiously as I continue. “I’ll be kissing you later.” My eyes flick to the altar. It’s the only vow I ever plan on making in a church.

Maxine raises a dark eyebrow. “You think it’s worth it to give up peanuts for a stranger you just met?”

I lean over, this time not caring about respecting her space. Let her move, let her cry out to the few lingering patrons in St. Patrick’s for sanctuary. If it gives me this moment, so close to Maxine that her breath—warm and sweet—teases me forward more until we’re sharing the same air, I’ll take it. And judging from how she doesn’t cower or slink away from the stranger who offered her a listening ear, in the right place and at the right time, I think she’s as eager as I am to close the gap and suffocate one another.

Letting my eyes fall to her mouth, I swallow, wondering how sweet she tastes. “Call me crazy because you’re right, we don’t even know each other. But something tells me I’d give up a Snickers for you,” I whisper, and fuck when her mouth puckers before slipping into a coy grin, I’m about to kiss the look off her face, but Maxine speaks.

“For all eternity?” Her eyes sweep around the church. “Or just tonight.”

I don’t expect this kind of boldness, but there’s no point in beating around the bush now. “I’m not sure I’m the kind of guy who gets eternity.”

Maxine leans from me, and for one second, I entertain the idea my answer wasn’t what she wanted to hear. But like every other moment of our brief encounter, she surprises me.

“Great.” Maxine stands, reaching for her jacket and phone beside her. “You’re the exact kind of person I’ve been looking for then.”

With a tilt of her head, Maxine steps forward into the aisle, forcing me to the side as she heads to the church doors. I take in the sway of her hips, how her hair—still piled on top of her head—loosens with each step, and I know if I follow, it will be my hands that pull the dark, silky strands from their captivity.

Rubbing my chin, I look to the altar, but not for too long. “Forgive me, Father,” I whisper before turning on my heel to follow Maxine. “I’m about to sin.”

Crosby tugs on my hand.In theory, he should drop it because it only took three seconds for him to accomplish what he wanted—stop me from exiting St. Patrick’s through the front. But he doesn’t drop it. His hand is warm, bigger, his touch soft, but he holds mine firmly, protectively.

“Let’s see if the side door is still open.”

My eyes flicker to the main door he prevented me from opening, the one I had sprinted through, away from two guys with cameras who happened to spot me about to have an enormous breakdown in the middle of Manhattan.

Instead, they ended up chasing me to the last place I ever expected to find exactly what I needed—the opportunity to be someone else, to live as someone else. I suppose if there is a god, he works in mysterious ways.

I entered St. Patrick’s Cathedral prepared to pour the hate I secretly keep deep in my heart. It’s so heavy, it must be sinful. You don’t hate family—especially your only family. You don’t speak ill of the dead, no matter how hard or awfully they wronged you.

But I didn’t find a priest, didn’t find God or anyone willing to forgive me. What I found instead was a tall, handsome stranger with mysterious—but kind—eyes hidden behind round tortoise-shell frames. I wonder though, as we walk together down the dark corridor, if what I found is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

And I’ve never in my life been more determined to find out if, beneath Crosby’s navy wool coat and gray sweater, that’s true or not. Or at least, Amy is determined. But I’m buckling in because I know by the way he moves with confident steps, how he holds my hand tightly—but with an added, gentle caress, the circle of his thumb along my skin—that I’m in for one hell of a ride.

Crosby’s hold grows more secure now that we are outside, like he knows what might be lurking in the distance.

“I’m parked on the corner. Do you want to head downtown for a drink?”

“Parked?” I ask. Who drives in the city? “You don’t live in Manhattan?”

And even though this stranger who calls himself Crosby could really be Daniel or Harry, or a distant cousin of Ted Bundy, I still let him hold my hand. Because I’m wondering if the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. And for whatever reason, Crosby feels like the perfect combination of both.

Shaking his head, Crosby answers, “Out east. Long Island.”

While he isn’t wearing a pair of madras shorts—I mean, it’s February—or anything gingham print, Crosby exudes prep. Maybe it’s the navy and gray on navy, or the glasses, the gentle swoop of chestnut brown hair that’s been forever lightened by the sun that leads me to believe he hails from the land of popped collars and velvet summer loafers embroidered with sailboats.

But there’s an edge to Crosby as well, as if he’s been streaked with a darker varnish, and that’s what has me curious. But when I realize there’s no one but us walking along this street, I decide I’m not stupid enough to get into a stranger’s car, who I think I just agreed to have a one-night stand with while sitting in a church.

---