Page 81 of Class Clown

I pushed away from the countertop and paced to the window. “I wouldn’t mean it.”

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

I folded my arms. “Well, I really do apologize for avoiding you a little bit the past two days. That wasn’t nice of me, and I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do it?”

I bit my lips and looked at him, hoping he’d let me get away without saying it, but he was calm and prepared to outwait me. I pushed out a breath.

“My feelings are like a marshmallow over the flame. Will I end up perfect, lightly browned, or will I get burned again?”

He stood and moved to the kitchen cabinets where he pulled out a mug and filled it with water. “I can understand that. I feel a little bit the same.” He turned off the water and glanced back at me. “And the apology you don’t really mean?”

I looked down at my feet, tapping one rapidly. “I should maybe apologize for kissing you.”

He put his mug of water in the microwave and got it heating before turning back to me. “Why does that deserve an apology?”

“Because it made things awkward between us, and possibly made you feel pressured in some way.”

“No. You avoiding me afterwards made things awkward between us.” The microwave beeped and he took out the water, testing it with a fingertip before reaching for one of his tea sachets to start steeping in the now-hot water. “Can I ask you a favor?” he asked over his shoulder. I bit at my lips but nodded when he turned once more to face me. “Apologize when you do something that actually upsets me, or hurts me somehow. But please, do not apologize for kissing me.”

“But . . .”

“I liked it,” he said so quietly I nearly missed it. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

My throat was tight and I tucked my hands into my pockets. “Really?”

“I thought you liked it too, but that’s twice now that you’ve clammed up. You did it at the shooting range, and again after we kissed. I’m confused.”

I fidgeted, shifting to cross my arms. “I did like it. A lot, actually. But I’m supposed to be on a diet, you know?”

He took a spoon from a drawer and set it next to the mug. “Why on earth would you be on a diet?”

“A love diet.”

He turned to face me fully. “What’s a love diet?”

I slapped my hands to my face. “Nico, how are you always so confused by everything I say?”

He held up a hand, lifting one finger at a time. “Your spirit animal is a porcupine, you’re on a love diet, you’ve avoided me because of this diet, you’re not a player, but you want to play, you want to set me up with Kristy, but you like kissing me. It’s fuzzy at best.”

I stood taller and moved toward him. “Okay, let’s make this as clear as we can so we can both go wallow in embarrassment when it’s over.” I pointed at myself. “I, Ruby Jenkins, a thirty-something woman, have recently realized that I’ve been chasing men my whole life and I don’t want to do that anymore. I want something real. Then, you, Nico Crawford,” I pointed at him, “somehow manage to go from possible alien robot to a really wonderful and ridiculously tasty man, and I couldn’t resist kissing you. But that’s similar to my old patterns.” I pointed in the direction of the lodge. “Add to that the fact that you are my brother’s best friend, my co-worker, and that this entire situation is temporary because we live states apart.” A sweeping gesture taking in the entire cabin and camp. “So, I have been hiding away in order to avoid some sort of HR complaint of my own while fearing yet another love wound. Is that clearer?”

He took a few moments to stir his mug and then took a sip of whatever concoction he’d made while he looked me dead in the eye. “So, you’re saying that you feel wound up because you’re attracted to me and that’s an impossible situation after you had recently decided to swear off dating. You’re afraid that I think of this as a fling, and you don’t want to get hurt again.”

“Plus, we already kissed so I know what I’d be missing out on. Which is, like, stars bursting in the sky type stuff.”

His lips turned up. “And that whole thing, yes.”

“Right.” I tucked my hands against my hips while he took another sip, and another, all the while watching me over the rim of his cup until I wasforced to fill the silence. “We’ve also established that you’re too young for me.”

He swallowed. “I don’t remember talking about our age.”

“We are four years apart,” I reminded him. “And Cole.”

“Four years is nothing,” he responded. “I’m confident that Cole is okay with this.”

I groaned. “Also, proximity. It’s a thing. I read a study on it.” He was sipping again, watching me. It reminded me of the way he’d watched me in our younger years and it made me itchy. “Basically, people fall in love more often with people they live around. Which is sort of like, ‘duh’, but anyhow, if you think about celebrities and stuff, they fall in love a lot with other celebrities because they’re sequestered together shooting movies etc.”

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