Baewatch - Xavier Neal Page 0,25

pretty much an entire coastline away from that person. I am not a Brook.”

“And, I’m not a Scott.”

His rebuttal unexpectedly has more merit than I would’ve predicted. Regardless of being tempted into discovering what that means, I slowly shake my head. “You lied to me. Two dates in, and you had already lied to me. You lied about your name, your job, and who knows what else.” Another head shake from me is proceeded by more scolding, “That’s not a good way to start any relationship you’d like to have longevity in, which, recalling last night’s conversation, apparently isn’t something you do anyway, another little tidbit of information that would’ve been great to know. I’m not opposed to flings, but I at least want to know up front if the situation I’m in should or should not have my heart invested. If I should or shouldn’t plan on putting on a lifejacket because the waters we’re entering are going to be that deep.”

“Okay,” Ax quietly concedes to my surprise. “I’ll go.”

Disappointment instead of relief pins me back in my office seat.

Why am I not happy that he’s not putting up a bigger fight?

Why am I wishing and longing and praying he’s not willing to swim away from me so much as just take a break to change strokes?

Why is there always so much hope when it comes to whatever it is that’s between us?

Or was between us?

“I’ll go peacefully, but can I,” his tongue steals a taste of the lips that I miss kissing already, “ask you just…three simple questions first?”

“How simple?”

“Yes or no answers.”

“Just three?”

“Just three.”

“Three, and you’ll go?”

“Go and never walk back through the door unless I’m invited in again.”

“You weren’t technically invited in this time.”

Ax cringes and clearly bites his tongue to prevent the comeback on it.

Bitterness rears its ugly head again at the same time the buzzing seems to build. “Fine.” My hands abandon their hold on the cup to fold themselves in my lap. “Ask.”

“Do you like me as a person?”

“I did,” my clipped response hurts us both. “A lot.”

“Do we have chemistry?”

“Considering I was ready to sleep with you last night and, most likely, again this morning after us only having had two dates, I have no choice but to say yes.” When he starts to smile, my eyes instinctively narrow. “Last query?”

There’s no hesitation on his part. “Do you believe in second chances?”

The yearning he intended to create is so palpable I can hardly breathe. Its weight rests heavily on my shoulders and chest alike leaving me to be submerged in longing I wanted to swim miles away from. As much as my brain is screaming to answer yes and then provide a mile-long list of exceptions to my statement, the most I’m able to execute is a simple nod.

Ax’s expression momentarily flashes relief prior to him standing up, retrieving his cup from where it had been placed on my desk, and nodding in acceptance of his defeat. “Have an ocean breezy day, Brooklyn.”

Two paces are all I allow him to take with his back to me. “Scott, wait.”

“Don’t,” he growls and tosses the glare I had earlier my direction. “I am not Scott.” His frame doesn’t move closer; however, it spins around to face me. “Scott wears khakis and plays golf at the country club. He likes his two-hundred-dollar steak and a glass of your finest whiskey. He treats people like objects that are to be moved around for his enjoyment or, more accurately, his advancement. He is a soulless creation from being raised to believe money does buy you happiness and make you a better person because generations upon generations have groomed you to believe that.” Hatred for the man he described thrums undeniably in his glower. “I am not that man. I am not a Scott.”

Curiosity tussles with his earlier dishonesty leaving me to silently contemplate my next decision. Absentmindedly, I curl my toes tighter and twirl my thumbs in circles. Logic dictates the right thing to do is to dismiss the distraction. Banish the buzz creator. Move on with my day and my life and write off our encounter as one of the wacky random moments you end up recalling when you’re swapping weird stories with friends at a BBQ while your kids are running around the yard or pool. Logic says to not speak another word and let him resume his exit, yet the ache instilled from his verbal lashing and the agony that bubbled when he started

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