Abruption (16 page)

She was so completely engrossed in conversation she missed her neighbor shift his gaze above her shoulder. I was close enough to hear him say, “Think you have some company, sweetheart.” If he hadn’t looked like he just celebrated triple digits, I might have been put off by his use of endearment. Like I was one to talk? I used to be
that
guy.

Mid-sentence, literally, she spun on her furry shoe. “Jesus, Guy. You trying to give me a heart attack?” I smirked at her choice of words, at least she knew what I felt like mere moments ago walking up and seeing her dressed in
this
. I scanned her from head to toe again. Oblivious to my gawking, she glanced at her watch. “It’s ten to eight.”

“I know.”

“It’s early.” Knew that too.

She missed the memo that I was a surgeon and had two kids. Sleeping in didn’t exist. I’d probably clocked my 5k and showered before she even opened her eyes this morning.

“Full day starts with breakfast, doll.”

“I’m not even … ah ... ugh.” She swung her free arm, the one that wasn’t holding Casey’s leash, up and down her body, causing her sweatshirt to expose a sliver of skin I remembered oh so well. Embarrassment was a real possibility if we spent much more time out on the curb. Especially because I could think of nothing but exploring that sliver and everything all around it. And preferably with my mouth.
Dude, settle down
.

“Problem?” I asked, amused by her reaction.

“Guy!”

“Don’t remember early morning being an issue last time.”

Her cheeks lit up, and she let out a little puff of air before rounding back to Mr. Rodgers, who definitely didn’t miss my insinuation. His denture-filled grin was wide. She was flustered. It was just so easy.

“Sal, this is Guy. Guy. Sal,” she introduced, waving back and forth.

Sal did another chin lift, acknowledging my place on the curb. “Gotta let him in, sweetheart.”

“Right,” she mumbled and jerked back to open the squeaky iron gate. “Let me take that.” She relieved me of the cardboard coffee tray I was holding, and I latched the gate behind

me. Casey finally got territorial, sniffed my feet, and rolled onto his back outstretching all four limbs. Wait, what was up with his eye?

I stored that for later and reached up to shake the gentleman’s trembling hand. “Pleasure, Sal.”

“I’ll leave you two kids to it. Good day.” He winked at Jules, adjusted his footing, and shuffled slowly up the rest of the flight. Parkinson’s. That sucked. Occupational hazard, always examining and diagnosing.

“I could have been a murderer,” I said, squatting to appease the infamous Casey before he ulcerated his wagging tail against the concrete. Jules wasn’t overly concerned that her one-eyed protector’s weapon of choice was a wet tongue; she was too busy reeling over the time.

I followed her through the dug out entranceway underneath the front stoop. As sick as her spacious apartment was with ten-foot ceilings and exposed brick walls, I wasn’t a fan. The slate patio beyond the sliding glass doors at the end of her kitchen couldn’t even sway me, and that said something. She was a single woman, a hundred and nothing, living alone on the ground floor in New York City with the most pathetic guard dog ever. Private backyard oasis or not, something primal and protective took hold and
not a fan
was an understatement.

She set the coffee tray down on the aged butcher block island and snapped, “I haven’t even showered.”

Note to self, JuJu was not a morning person.

I smirked, memories of her naked body clear as day, and said, “Used to that.”

She blushed again. It had to be said, she was sexy in her skinny jeans and adorable in her bright scrubs, but she was fucking hot in whatever this pajama/loungewear get up was. The rosy cheeks only added to it. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear and whispered embarrassingly, “Suppose you are, huh?”

“Like the slippers.”

Her flame flashed crimson. “They’re UGGs. Totally legit to wear outside.”

“Hate to break it to you, they’re slippers, doll.” Call a spade a spade.

“Well, most people are still in slippers at eight AM on a Saturday!”

Most people
. That almost made me chuckle. Jules seemed to be the farthest thing from most women, or so I hoped. Ready to find out, I met her at the counter and pulled her hips toward me. I cupped her cheeks, and her eyes fluttered up to meet mine. She held her breath, and I lightly kissed her lips. We could play
this
game all day, because we were good at it. But I was more concerned with the
other
game she played with me all week. I decided there was no time like the present to discuss that.

“No more games?” I whispered against her lips.

“Games?”

“Yeah, I don’t do games, Jules.”

“I’m not playing games,
Dr
. Hunter.”

I backed up until I was leaning on the opposite counter, crossed my legs, and folded my arms against my chest. “Then explain to me why I haven’t heard from you all week. I get it was our first date and it turned into a really shitty night, but I thought we ended on a high note.” Jules’ eyes widened and she bit her bottom lip.
Yeah, she thinks it ended on a high note too
. “I text, I call a few times, and not once did you think to pick up the phone or text back. I’m the first to admit that I’m rusty in the dating department, actually if you want to know the truth, I haven’t dated since my wife died. I’ve hooked up, not going to lie, but I haven’t
dated
someone with the intention of getting to know them. You’re the exception. So I’m asking, what’s with the games?”

“I needed a minute.” Her voice was low and trailed off. So much so, I thought I misheard. Then she broke eye contact and scurried away, opening cabinets and drawers for plates and silverware.

“A minute, as in four days?” We apparently had a different definition of a minute, so I needed clarification. Suddenly, the anger I thought I was over began to resurface. “Look, Jules, I’m sorry I don’t have the luxury of tiptoeing around your feelings here, so I’m going to come straight out and tell you that your
minute
doesn’t work for me. And it sure as hell doesn’t work for my family. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything, but I have kids, kids that already know you. Kids that already like you. This was not news when we hooked up. So if you aren’t into it, into me, or you decided all of a sudden you have an issue with my baggage, I need to know and we’ll end it now.”

Before they get too attached.
Liar.
Before I get too attached.

Damn, she was making me soft.

She froze mid-plate grab and pivoted back around with her eyes squinted together at a peculiar angle. This expression was a new one and not one of my favorites if I had to compare. “Baggage?” She dragged out the word and cocked her head more to one side. Shit. “You think I consider Maxine and Finn baggage?” The tide changed, and I sensed she wasn’t exactly feeling
me
right at this moment. “Is that what you’ve been thinking all week? Seriously … seriously?” The second
seriously
hit an octave I’d yet to hear from her and probably could do without hearing again, so I opted to use my northern brain and keep my mouth shut. “How could you even think that? Not for one point one second. Do you hear me?”

Nope, still not answering. That was a trick question.

“Have I ever given you any inclination that I had an issue with Finn or Max, ever? No. Never!” She answered for me, loudly, and she was
pissed
. “I adore your children, and I’m just as attached to them as they are to me. That’s why
we
needed a minute. Everything was moving so fast. You don’t even know anything about me and you opened your home to ... to me. You called me a natural, for God’s sake. You have no idea. So I didn’t know what to do with that, and you needed time to think about all that. I’m not sure either of us were ready for what we already let happen, never mind
more
. That’s why I didn’t call.”

Oh
, we
needed a minute. What were we, French now? I was tempted to call her on it, especially on the half of what she said that made no sense, but the look in her eyes stopped me. There was a vulnerability there, a softness, so I let her have that play. For now.

“Tell me, are you sure now?” I asked with a bite. She turned her back to me and unwrapped and plated the breakfast sandwiches.

Don’t think so, doll. You got your answer, my turn
.

I walked up behind her, pressing my front to her back, pinning her in. She involuntarily shuddered, sucking in a bit of air when I kissed the spot where her neck met her collarbone. “Are you sure, Jules?” This time I asked against her skin.

Her entire body stiffened and she whispered, “No.”

Fuck.

I expelled my breath and stepped back, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. It sucked when your gut was wrong. Because what the fuck else did you have to fall back on? This was my fault. And mine alone.

She gave me only seconds to fester before she said, “But I want to try. I know I shouldn’t, but I want this so much it scares me. I know it’s a lot to ask, you have more at stake, but please give me the chance to
try
. Give me the chance to say yes.”

Her honesty hit me straight in the gut. I’d misread her again. She probably never played games in her life. This woman was laying it out, and I was the selfish bastard acting as if I was the only one taking a risk.

Since Britt died, the same scenario played out in my mind and it was the reason I avoided dating, avoided connecting. I find a woman that’s into me, accepts my kids. Finn and Max get attached and then she realizes she didn’t sign up for an insta-family. It was never worth putting my kids through the disappointment, they had enough shit luck with their own mother. But what if a woman fell for me
and
my kids and then I was the one to walk away? What if I bailed? In the end, Finn and Max would always be mine, they’d always be with me. Where would that leave a woman like that?

Jules was a woman like that.

She wasn’t
most
women.

Fuck, her risk suddenly seemed greater.

Bringing me back to the reason I was a selfish bastard.

Without hesitation, I nuzzled back into the same position against her neck, but this time I wrapped my arms around her center and pulled her against my chest. I needed to make this right. I wanted her to feel my heart racing. “How about we take our time and give each other the chance to say yes? Just give me the heads up whenever
we
need that
minute
. Yeah?”

Her arms tightened over mine. “Yeah.”

I kissed my now favorite spot on her neck again then said, “Now how about we eat some breakfast, beautiful, so you can shower and we can start our weekend. Or is there a minimum hour before you take off your slippers that I should know about?”

She moved so we were face-to-face, her eyes now honey caramel. Damn, she was beautiful. “They’re not slippers, they’re UGGs.”

Stubborn.

And definitely not
most
women.

We barely made it through the Botanical Gardens before we needed to head over to her parents’. Who knew orchids deserved more than a once over to fully appreciate their beauty? Jules’ words, not mine. I chuckled at her enthusiasm and banked her fascination with the tall-stemmed flower for later. I even offered to loop the gardens again, but Jules made it perfectly clear that being late was not an option. As if it was my fault we were rushed for time.

Okay, maybe I was partially to blame. But when I heard the shower water turn on, knowing she was naked with a bathroom door separating us, I caved. I’d been craving her all week and the unbelievably sexy skintight pants did nothing to curb my appetite. She’d attempted coy at first, trying to dissuade me from joining her with a lecture about the drying effects of bathing too often in the winter. Her half-hearted argument wasn’t very convincing. Turned out I was right, my skin fared just fine. And pretty sure I erased all her dermatologic concerns when I pinned her against her tile wall and reacquainted myself between her legs. After all, that was the only flower that really mattered.