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Lexie blinked.
Nico took a long sip of wine. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
He hesitated for a moment. “When I confronted West about Kyle, he told me it was your idea not to issue a restraining order. Is that true?”
“He said that?”
Nico nodded. “Apparently, dragging a person’s name through the mud is . . . frowned upon, and you didn’t want to do it.”
“Of course he’d say that.” Lexie’s laugh was bitter. “My reservations were more about dragging a Garrett’s name through the mud, but instead of pushing me to do what was right, Adam bore down on that fear like a ton of bricks until I buckled.”
Nico’s lips pinched. “I thought as much.”
“What’s going on over there?” she asked, curious. “Is it not working out?”
“It’s fine, just”—he scratched the back of his head—“I’m trying to figure out how I fit into this place. It’s not like anywhere I’ve ever worked.”
“I hear that,” she said. “I’ve lived here my whole life and even I can tell we’re a different breed.”
“On my first day, West called me an outsider.”
Lexie almost choked on a laugh. “God, he makes us sound like toothless hillbillies.”
“Well, teeth or no teeth, I think you’re gorgeous.”
She smirked. “Flattery will get you anywhere.”
“That so?”
Something flared in Nico’s eyes.
Why had she gone and said that?
The wine, she reasoned. Blame it on the wine, which was flowing far too well, and the candlelight flickering between them making the ambiance positively sinful as Nico’s already dark face bathed in warm shadow. Without her permission, Lexie’s eyes dropped to his lips. They were rising at the corners. Damn, she thought again, feeling every bit of the smoldering heat across the table. I’m in big trouble.
After the long, loaded moment finally passed, Nico asked, “So—as a born and raised local—help me out here. Why does he have it in for me?”
“Adam? Well, he’s always been a forceful personality,” she said. “Even when we were kids, he would walk around like he had something to prove, trying to show the world he was bulletproof. Most of the time it drives me nuts, but I think deep down there’s a lot more to it.” She paused, trying to find the words to articulate what she wanted to say. “It’s like he’d rather attack first and ask questions later, rather than be caught off guard.”
Nico appeared to think that over.
Smiling, Lexie gestured to his plate. “So, how’s your Bolognese?”
“Oh, terrible,” he said, mocking disgust.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I won’t tell your mother if you won’t.”
Thirty minutes later, they were back on Lexie’s front porch. Nico had walked her to the door, she’d fiddled aimlessly with her keys—typical first date stalling—before unlocking and switching on the foyer light. She didn’t invite him in, and he didn’t ask, just stood with his thumbs looped in his pockets. He appeared to be waiting for her to make the next move.
“Well, goodnight,” she said, a little shakily.
“Goodnight, Lex.”
She was expecting—hoping—he might kiss her at least, but he made no move to do anything. Nothing. At all. Lexie accepted that, disappointing as it was, and turned to go inside. As she did, Nico caught her by the waist and spun her back around. Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh.
Yes.
