Page 12 of The Redemption of Alex Cade
“I think Englishmen run to keep warm. Is too cold in thiscountry.” Stephano laughed, his smile friendly. I narrowed my eyes. Maybe a little too friendly.
“You might be right about that. It’s freezing out there today. But I broke the twelve-mile mark.” Alex smiled, softening his features in a way I hadn’t seen before. “Best get home and scrape all this mud off me. See you, Stephano.”
Alex swung around to leave, but I wasn’t quick enough. He stopped, as rigid as a statue, his open-mouthed shock quickly vanishing behind a cool, closed-off mask.
“What are you doing here?” he barked.
“I’m on a circus skills course as I’m looking for a change of career.”
Alex’s eyes widened before the corners of his lips quirked. “Circus skills? Perhaps you should try comic, instead. Or not.”
Touché. “Iwasdue to meet a friend—the one who got thrown out?—”
“Brendan.”
It was my turn to be taken aback. “Yes, that’s right. Surprised you remembered.”
“I take notice of a lot of things many others don’t.” Alex pulled out the empty chair opposite me, sat down, and leant forward.
I clutched my cup hard, taking no heed of the heat burning into my palms. Alex was close enough for me to see the tiny splatters of mud across his face, the small, faint scar over his left eyebrow, and the golden flecks in the variegated green of his eyes. I breathed in deep, my senses saturating. Alex smelt of earth and rain and sweat, all of it heady, complex, and primal.
“Youweregoing to meet your friend, but not any longer?”
“What?” I said, struggling to catch up. “Er, yes. I’ve been dumped in favour of the bastard ex.”
“Ouch.”
“Hmm.”
Alex’s gaze held mine, making it impossible to turn away. “Look,” he said, slowly. “About the other night, at the club. I’m sorry you were uncomfortable. But Euphoria’s a gay club. Near naked dancers in cages, what can I say, it’s the nature of the business. We pay them very well, they make more dancing for us than they would in just about any other club around. We also provide as much tea and biscuits as they want during their breaks. Even chocolate ones, sometimes.” Alex smiled and I laughed. “Am I forgiven?”
I nodded but the truth was, I wasn’t the one needing to forgive. I owed him an apology.
“I went off the deep end, so it’s me who should be saying sorry.” It wasn’t the dancers who’d pulled a trigger or rung an alarm, it had been the baying, frenzied crowd that had made my heart thump erratically and my muscles tense up. But Alex wasn’t to know my history. “I shouldn’t have done that, I had no right. I’m not a prude, and I’m not usually so censorious.” Or at least I hoped I wasn’t, but I wouldn’t blame him if he thought otherwise.
Alex glanced towards the rain drenched window that was starting to steam up before turning back to me. “I live just around the corner. Why don’t you come back with me, and have another coffee? Maybe we can start again?” He lowered his voice. “At the very least, you won’t be paying almost a fiver for not much more than a thimbleful.”
“God, I almost had a fit at the price, but it was too late to back off. I should have gone to Maccie D’s.”
Alex snorted. “For god’s sake, don’t let Stephano hear you say that.”
“As long as it doesn’t come with stale rusk.”
Alex’s brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Biscotti. What a bloody sham of a biscuit that is.”
Alex grinned, his eyes full of laughter. “I can offer custard creams and Hobnobs. So, is it a deal?”
It was more than a deal, and I was already getting to my feet.
“This is incredible.” I stood at the glass wall overlooking the Heath and the rest of London beyond. The rain still lashed at the window, but it took nothing away from the incredible view. “Clubs must pay well if it means you end up with an outlook like this. Oh, thanks.” I took the coffee Alex held out for me, humming my delight as I sipped. It was even better than the pricey café one, and it hadn’t cost me an arm and a leg. My stomach rumbled; the only thing missing was the promised biscuits.
“Okay?”
I nodded and tried not to ogle. Alex had headed for the shower as soon as we’d reached his top-floor flat and was now standing next to me in old jeans faded with wear, and a light grey jumper which hugged but didn’t strangle his torso. His dark hair, I noticed for the first time, was more auburn than brown, and threaded with the odd strand of silver. It was still damp and was starting to curl up at the ends. I held my mug tighter, pushing aside the urge to flatten down the errant curls. The silence, as we stared out over the city, was stretching thin, becoming awkward, and I turned to say something, anything, before it snapped.
Alex beat me to it.
