Page 62 of Ewan

He studies me for a few seconds before pushing his chair back, rising to his feet, towering over me and everybody at the table, and signaling me to follow him.

Nobody at the table as much as flinches when we walk away.

I trail closely behind him as he pushes a door open and leads me into an adjacent room, usually designated for larger events.

The space is now empty, with only a few tables and chairs and nothing set up for guests.

He barely closes the door when I turn to him.

“What is wrong with you?” I ask, my eyes latching onto his.

“Why are you here?” he asks, unfazed, and I don’t know what to make of that.

Is he annoyed that I’m here? Is he thinking that I have done it on purpose? That I knew he’d be here, and I just popped up to make his life difficult? The way he’s making mine difficult now?

“Can’t you see?” I say, pointing to my attire. “I work here.”

“I thought you were a teacher,” he says with humor in his voice.

“It’s not funny,” I retort. “Yes, I am a teacher. But some teachers have side hustles, especially when they’re on a break. And why do I need to explain myself to you? It’s not your business why I’m here. I would truly appreciate it if you stayed out of my business. I didn’t plan to be here tonight and serve you drinks. What are the fucking odds?” I huff, slapping my hands against my thighs and making my little apron jerk. “I got the call today. Never in a million years would I have thought you’d be here. I tried to forget about you.”

Oops.

Too much information.

I stop while he tips his head to the side.

“Go on,” he says.

“What do you want me to say? Thank you for fixing my car. It looks fantastic and runs smoothly. And thank you for teaching my ex a lesson. I owe you a lot. And I even liked the way you kissed me. That doesn’t mean I will indulge in the idea of you. You’re too much of a variable for me. And I hate variables. You’ve already disrupted my evening and put me in the crosshairs of my boss.”

“She won’t do anything to you.”

“She told me that as well. But she might change her mind if you’re not around. Can I go now? Please?”

He ponders an answer before I begin to spin away.

Despite hesitating for a second, he grabs my arm and pulls me back straight into his chest.

I get to experience him through my senses: my sight, my touch, and my smell. Tiny molecules of cologne roll into my nostrils while his hard frame ignites a fire in my softness. His eyes explode with light as only an inch separates us from a real kiss.

A sexual kiss.

It becomes clear we’ve worked hard to avoid this.

Getting involved with one another looks like a big risk, and I think it is, although our reasons for believing that might be different.

“Let me go, Ewan. Please,” I beg. “I think we know enough about each other to understand there’s more to lose than gain if we are not pulling away from one another.”

His grip slackens, and that’s my cue.

I remove my arm from his hand and walk away, relieved, knowing that it’s the right thing to do.

“I’ll wait for you outside when you get off from work,” he tosses behind me.

I come to an abrupt halt and spin around.

“I have no idea when that is.”

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