Page 56 of Cold As Ice

He gave me a nod and went back to his position by the door, where he would stand vigil until the last member of staff left for the night.

I slipped into the staff room and grabbed my jacket and purse. Austin was waiting when I went back into the main room.

“All set?” he asked, and I brushed past him, making a beeline for the door. “So do you have all the guys in this place wrapped around your little finger or just—”

“Unbelievable,” I snapped.

“Joke.” Guilt flashed in his eyes. “I was joking.”

“Well, your joke sucked.”

“You’re really going to make me work for it, huh?” I glared at him, and his eyes went wide with realization. “Shit, I didn’t… fuck, you’re right, I suck at this.”

“Relax, hotshot.” Nudging his arm, I smiled up at him as we spilled out on the sidewalk. “You don’t always suck.”

“I am sorry, you know. About how I reacted the other day.”

“I get it. But if I’d have fessed up that first night we met, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be standing here now.”

He opened his mouth to argue but quickly thought better of it.

We both knew the truth.

It stung, but I couldn’t blame him, not really.

“But we are … standing here, I mean.” His eyes burned into mine, and I could still feel it. That spark between us, the magnetic pull that I couldn’t seem to resist.

It didn’t matter though. We were done. Our temporary fun was over.

Austin needed to realize that.

“So this is where you were born and raised?” he asked as we walked toward my neighborhood. It was late—almost one. Usually, I grabbed a ride home with one of the other servers.

“Yep. Olin Bay is home.”

“I like it; it has that small seaside vibe.”

“I like that everyone looks out for each other. The world needs more of that.” I stared off at nothing, trying to ignore Austin’s scrutiny.

A heavy silence descended over us, only adding to the tension already crackling between us.

Chemistry or not, things were different now. Fantasy and reality had collided and reminded me why I didn’t pursue dating. Because things got too complicated. And my daughter became a scapegoat.

I didn’t want that.

I didn’t want her to be an inconvenience to the guys who might come and go in my life, not when she was my priority—the center of my entire universe.

And always would be.

“You know you really didn’t have to walk me home,” I said, eventually breaking the silence.

“I wanted to.”

“Well, consider yourself absolved of whatever guilt you’re still feeling once we get there.”

Because I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t have him pity me or whatever the hell this was.

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