Page 7 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
Right. The details. Of my temporary housing. What?
“You’re welcome.” Alex leans back, his posture casual. Almost cocky.
“I didn’t ask you to do that. But . . . thank you.”
He shrugs, his gaze dropping from mine to the beer in his hands. “Better than living with Eden and having love shoved in your face, right?”
“Right,” I say. Tonight has been . . . a lot. It might be time for me to quit while I’m ahead. “I think it’s time for me to call it a night.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
Downstairs, with Alex on my heels, I nearly walk smack into Holt, who deftly lifts his drink over my head and mercifully doesn’t spill a drop.
“Sorry.”
“You’re good.” Holt chuckles, offering me a small smile before his eyes narrow on my escort.
“Congratulations on the engagement,” Alex says a little stiffly. “It’s gonna be a big year.”
“Thanks. I know Eden appreciates you coming,” Holt says with a polite nod.
A muscle jumps in Alex’s jaw, and I can’t help but wonder if he still has feelings for our boss.
“I’m going home,” I say to Holt. So weird saying home when I should really be saying your fancy place that you’re letting me squat in, thank you. “Send my love to Eden, okay?”
“Will do. You have your key?”
“Yep. ’Bye, Holt.”
Outside, the club music is a distant echo. I close my eyes, letting the breeze cool my warm skin. But my ankle buckles when I step into a pothole, my arms flailing wide to regain my balance. Alex catches my wrist before I tumble, steadying me without breaking his stride.
“Thanks,” I mutter with a strangled sigh.
I’m really setting quite a reputation for myself tonight, aren’t I? The executive assistant who cries in corners and can’t be trusted to walk without falling on her face. But Alex doesn’t give me any grief, and for that I’m grateful.
“Do you need a ride?” he asks, nodding toward a row of shiny sports cars.
I won’t even try to guess which one is his. They all look like they cost ten times my annual salary.
“That’s okay. I’ll call an Uber,” I say, reaching into my purse.
Alex places his hand over mine and thumbs open the app on his phone before handing it to me. “I’ve got it. Just type in the address.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. It’s the least I can do.”
“No, really,” I say, trying again. “Thanks for looking out for me tonight.”
He pauses. “It was mutual.”
My heart twinges a bit, even as I smile. “Are you gonna be okay?”
He scoffs, running a hand over the dark stubble on his face and glancing back at the club with a cynical expression. “Are you?”
I drop my gaze to the concrete, the familiar ache settling back in. “I don’t know.”
Alex steps closer so I’m standing in his shadow again. “Would a hug help?”
I didn’t take him for the hugging type, but I find myself nodding all the same. “It couldn’t hurt.”
His big arms wrap tightly around me as he bows his head and rests his temple against my hair. I surprise myself, bringing my arms around him and clinging.
Relaxing, I release a slow sigh. What is it about the kindness of strangers? But I guess Alex isn’t really a stranger anymore. I guess I used to think of him as more of the enemy. The guy who hurt my boss and my friend.
I breathe in against his shirt. I don’t know how long we stand there like that, hugging as though we each understand how it feels to be alone, but then I hear the nearing crunch of tires, and I pull back.
“That’s my ride.” I sigh, lifting my face and bringing one arm between us to return his phone. “Here’s your phone, before I f—”
My words are hushed by Alex Braun’s full lips pressing against mine and his big hand cradling my cheek. My brain fires off useless information like, warm, wet, and good. So, so good. Thoughts that do nothing to clear my confusion.
Instead, I grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss, because that’s what this is, right? A mind-blowing, entirely forbidden kiss, that’s obviously only to make us both forget the heartache.
When the driver honks, Alex chuckles against my mouth, the sound filling me up like a warm cup of coffee. Our lips pull apart with a mutual sigh. I blink up at him, lifting his phone to his chest and pressing it against his pecs—his very well-defined pecs—and over his heart.
“Before I forget,” I say belatedly, finishing my sentence breathlessly.
“Thanks.” He laughs, low and easy. We’re still pressed against each other when he says, “I guess I’ll be seeing you.”
“In Canada.”
“In Canada,” he says with a boyish grin.
It’s not until I’m tucked into the back seat of an Uber driver’s car that reality thunders down.
What the hell did I just get myself into?
