Page 64 of V is for Valentine
“Don’t,” Felicity warned.
“Right.” Stevie shut off the water faucet and ran her hand over the fuzzy surface of the roller, extracting the last of the water.
“Everything is fine,” Felicity assured her.
“If you say so.” Stevie dried the roller with a wad of cheap paper toweling from the janitor’s closet in the furnace room. “I’m going to drop Neville off with Dad before I head to the school to coordinate the student volunteers for the parent conferences.”
“Carry on,” Felicity said. “And don’t worry about me.”
Stevie pulled off the long sleeve shirt she’d worn over her clothes to protect them from paint splatters and draped it over a sawhorse.
“Dad told me you were worried about being too rigid in life.”
“He what?”
“He’s worried, too.” Stevie pulled on her jacket.
“I have a great life,” Felicity said, spreading her hands in a what-the-heck gesture.
“He’s worried that you have hemmed yourself in and are too proud and stubborn to get yourself out.”
Wrong. She’d hemmed herself in out of necessity, to make up for what she’d lost when she’d followed Sean to Seattle.
“He wants me back here.”
“He does, but he knows that isn’t going to happen any time soon. He’s more worried about why you questioned your approach to life in the first place.”
“It was just…a question.” Felicity focused on the trail of paint. Concerning a nerve Danny had struck. “And I can’t consider a job change until I finish my commitment to Lockwood and get vested in their retirement.”
She couldn’t bring herself to tell her sister that her Lockwood 401(k) was her only retirement fund. That she’d walked away from her previous nest egg along with a job she’d really enjoyed. For a man. Although at the time, she’d convinced herself that it had been for her.
“I know.” Stevie had more to say—Felicity could tell from her voice—but was not going to dive in now. Thank goodness.
Stevie leaned down and scooped up Neville, who gave her a doggie kiss. “See you tomorrow,” she said.
“See you.”
Deke the city maintenance man was due to arrive any minute, but until he showed, Felicity and Danny were the only people in the building. Nothing unusual there—they’d spend most of their time together alone in this building—but Felicity had never felt this edgy about it.
What did she expect him to do? Take advantage of the moment and force her to confess her feelings for him? Feelings she’d yet to fully acknowledge to herself?
“Hey.”
She let out an odd squeak and jumped at the sound of his voice. Pressing her hand to her chest she turned to where Danny was standing in the doorway.
“Forget that I’m here?”
“Hardly.” She once again started running her brush down the edge of the window casing, her hand shaking a touch more than usual.
“I need to run to my shop for a few minutes. Clara is having an issue with the books. I shouldn’t be more than half an hour.”
“Fine.” The word came out with more of a snap than she intended, and she let out a sigh, her brush poised in the air. “I don’t mean to be rude.”
“I get it,” he said.
She almost asked, “Do you?” because that was what she did with Danny. She challenged him.
Not anymore.
