Page 41 of V is for Valentine
“I don’t see that happening,” he said, sensing that she needed to hear the words.
“Good. I’d miss the thrill of battle.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” He stepped back, giving her space, pretending that the blood wasn’t pounding in his veins. He’d expected kissing Felix to be a heady experience, but this kiss had surpassed expectations. Which was why he kept things casual.
“Take you home?”
“Yes,” she agreed, digging her hands into her pockets. “It’s time.”
*
Of course Dannywas a world-class kisser.
Their gazes met as they approached their respective front doors, separated by parallel driveways, a fence, and wide strips of snowy lawn. The distance did not keep Felicity from feeling another kick of attraction as she fiddled with her keys. Fifteen minutes had passed since they’d kissed, and she was still dealing with the aftermath.
Danny no longer seemed like Danny. He seemed like a guy with great bone structure and wide shoulders and a wicked sense of humor. The kind of guy she’d date in a heartbeat had they been in Seattle and hadn’t had a lifetime of history behind them. If his parents weren’t neighbors and it wouldn’t be awkward.
When have you ever let awkwardness slow you down?
Touché. But at the moment, she’d take any excuse she could get to slow down.
Danny waited until she unlocked the door and quietly stepped inside the house before opening his own door. The living room was dark except for the nightlight in the hall which was supposed to keep her from killing herself on the journey from the front door to her bedroom, but she could tell that her dad was sound asleep. He shifted in his chair as she turned off the porch light, and Felicity waited until he stilled before moving across the room with light steps.
Although her father was more comfortable sleeping in his chair than in his bed, there were disadvantages to the living room becoming a bedroom. There were also disadvantages to having to go to work the next morning with Danny and pretend that it simply didn’t matter that they’d kissed.
Because it did.
After literally decades of nurturing a comfortable adversarial relationship, they’d introduced a new facet. While standing on the loading dock overlooking the river, it had seemed inevitable that they would kiss and break the tension that had been growing between them. Giving into the temptation would solve everything by proving that there was no chemistry between them.
Unfortunately, there had been chemistry, along with a smoldering promise of something heady and challenging. That kiss…
Words failed her.
Felicity went into her bedroom and shrugged out of her coat and shoes, then crossed the hall to the bathroom, snapping on the light and taking a moment to study her reflection in the mirror above the sink.
You made a judgment error tonight, didn’t you?
She hadn’t even been the one to end the kiss. Maybe because she knew it was the only time their lips would meet, and she wanted to get all her questions about Danny answered, once and for all.
Except that now she had new questions.
Questions that would remain unanswered because she’d learned a lesson tonight—don’t kiss Danny.
She already had a plan of action, formulated on the silent drive home. She’d spend the next eight days re-establishing their former relationship, and she could do it, because she hadn’t been kidding when she’d said, “I is for Iron Will.” She’d used her willpower to get herself exactly where she wanted to be—after the Sean hiccup, that is. Lesson learned there, and perhaps she needed to focus on said lesson. Do not let a man come between you and your retirement fund.
She snorted at her reflection as she approached the sink and started the water.
“Own it,” she muttered.
Putting the matter in impersonal terms meant she didn’t have to think about the part she’d played in the Sean fiasco, and sheneededto think about it, often, so that history didn’t repeat itself. So that she didn’t let herself be hoodwinked by love or lust or whatever it was that she’d felt for the man who had coaxed her into believing that sheneededto embrace adventure and take risks. That she was young and worries about 401(k)s and the like could be pushed to the future. What good was security if you were slogging through the day?
The months she’d dated Sean in Portland had been heady, filled with a sense of finally finding what she’d lost after her mom had died. Her freewheeling impulsive side, which she’d tamped down as she’d dealt with grief and an overwhelming feeling of insecurity—insecurity she’d never once allowed Tess or Stevie to see—once again broke through.
Abuzz with energy and optimism and a false feeling of being able to write her own narrative, she’d followed Sean to Seattle where he’d landed a job with a premier mountaineering equipment company, telling herself that while she was making a poor financial decision, she’d make up for it by getting a better, higher-paying job.
But even as she’d embraced her new life, she’d couched the changes to her family in vague terms, telling them as little as possible. She was the big sister, after all. The role model. She didn’t want her little sisters taking these kinds of risks. Therefore, she rarely mentioned Sean, and when she did, it was as if he were an incidental part of her decision to move north. And, in the beginning, her new life in Seattle had felt satisfying in a soul-deep way. Like gulping in big breaths of fresh air while taking in the view after a long climb.
Three months later came the fall.
