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When I look up again, he blinks his light twice. Another laugh escapes me. You’re parked in somebody else’s driveway?
It’s often the best place to hide. Nobody expects it. Don’t worry. I made sure your neighbor had already left for work.
Thanks for this, I reply, as the lie gnaws at me. I’ll be fine when I get to work, though.
You can always text me if you need me, he replies. Now, are you going to get going, or are we going to text all day? I’m fine with either, but your neighbor might be pissed when they come home to find me in their driveway.
When I smile again, I think about the fact he’s watching me, admiring my smile. Beautiful, he called it. I’ve always thought that word belonged to Ruby, not to me. She’s the one with the youthful innocence, the spark in her eyes, the enthusiasm. I’ve always been grim.
Driving to work is obviously uneventful because I’ve built this whole thing on a lie. I wonder what Colt would do if I told him that the person I’m terrified of is inside the Chrome Carriage Club. Would he charge in there, slam Ralph’s head on the desk, and make him pay for what he did?
When I arrive at work, I send another message. Thank you, Colt, but I really don’t think this is necessary.
If you’re scared, worried for your safety, or uncomfortable in any way, it’s necessary.
I bite down, tension buzzing through me as I read his words. His messages seem to be straying beyond the whole Good Samaritan thing. He called me beautiful, too. Not letting myself overthink it, I quickly type another message.
Why are you doing this, Colt? Is it just because you’re a good person? Or…
Maybe it’s a bit cowardly, leaving the or there, but I can’t help it. I’ve got such little experience with romantic stuff. This is even more jarring because Colt is most likely twice my age or older, with silver in his hair and a wealth of experience. He’s got the edge on me, for sure.
It’s “or,” Lexi, he tells me.
When the three dots appear, I wait for a follow-up message, but he leaves it at that. I’m unfairly annoyed. I want more, but I shouldn’t. I don’t deserve it, especially after I lied to him.
I enter the bright, shining building, hurry into my office, and get to work. Luckily, Ralph doesn’t bother me this morning. Just after lunchtime, I get a text from Colt.
Let me know what time you finish so I can escort you home.
Actually, I’m not going home tonight, I reply. Ruby has invited me to a family gathering.
Ah, Luca gave me the same invite.
Excitement bubbles up in me for a moment. Are you going?
That sort of thing isn’t really my deal.
I remember the party Alessia threw after all the nastiness ten months ago. I’d heard whispers that Colt might attend that. When he didn’t, a sour mood gripped me. I tried to shake it. I didn’t want to make the party about me, but I couldn’t get rid of that longing, that eagerness to see and be near him again.
Maybe you could make an exception.
Do you want me to, Lexi?
I swallow, my throat getting tight. Outside my office, somebody walks by. I cringe, thinking it might be Ralph. Is this any way to work?
I think it would be nice.
That’s the equivalent of me begging him to come without outright saying it.
If I do make an appearance, don’t expect me to be all smiles.
I remember you, Colt. I can’t imagine you being ALL smiles, but I bet it’s just as beautiful as mine when you do.
Ha, ha, ha. Me, beautiful? I’m forty-six years old, Lexi. I’m too ancient for that.
Don’t call yourself ancient, I text back quickly. Age isn’t the most important thing. You never know. There might be women out there who want an older man. Maybe they’re sick of boys their own age.
Is that right? Are we talking about anybody specifically?
I almost just come right out and tell him I’m talking about me and him, but that would be just plain crazy. That would be like throwing myself into his arms and initiating the most passionate kiss imaginable.
We might be…
You’re so shy, Lexi. It’s cute as hell.
That’s not an answer, I reply, thinking how wild Ruby would find this, somebody calling me cute and me not puking or making light of it.
If I’m not busy, I’ll be there, he replies.
Suddenly, my day just got a lot brighter. That is until I look up to find Ralph standing in my doorway, a sneer on his face. I almost jump out of my chair.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“How long have you been texting, naughty?”
Shame touches me—embarrassment, the sort I don’t deserve that brings me back to high school.
