Third Life - Noelle Adams Page 0,78

had.

It felt really special.

We hang out for fifteen minutes until closing time. Then Richard locks the door and starts to put up some of the equipment. I should probably go ahead and leave, but I don’t want to. So I find a broom behind the counter and start to sweep since the floors are dirty and they should be cleaned before the end of the day.

“Hey,” Richard says after a few minutes, coming out and finding me sweeping. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“That’s my job.”

“Actually, it’s probably Melanie’s job, but you sent her home.”

“So it’s my job.” He comes over to reach for the broom. “Not yours.”

He tries to take the broom from me, but I don’t let him.

He frowns. “Gillian.”

“What? I was sweeping. What’s wrong with that?”

“You don’t have to work. You’re a customer.”

“Maybe. But I notice you didn’t make me pay for my drink or the sandwich, so the least I can do is—”

“I’m not expecting you to work for your food.” He tries again to pull the broom from my grip.

I resist.

We end up having a silly scuffle over the broom. Pretty soon I start to laugh, but I don’t let go of the handle, despite Richard’s clever attempts to wrest it from me.

He’s laughing too, chuckling low and soft. Eventually he lets go of the broom and instead grabs for my waist, trying to swing me out of my defensive stance.

It’s a good move. It startles me so much I squeal. Then I try to swat at him and in the process drop the broom.

“Victory!” He raises his arms in triumph.

I love him like this. I always have. Playful in a way he almost never is.

I give him a little shove in defiance of his declaration. Being me, instead of succeeding in this endeavor, I only end up tripping on the broom.

I almost go down, but Richard catches me, pulling me toward him instinctively to keep me from falling.

I end up pressed against his chest. His lean, hard body. I’m flushed and breathless and throbbing with... with so much. I gaze up at him, wanting, wanting, wanting everything I see in his face.

His eyes are so tender. And the warmth transforms into heat as one of his hands slides up to cup the back of my head. He leans toward me. There’s a kiss in his eyes, on his lips, in his hands.

It’s going to happen. I know it. And I want it so much.

But the degree to which I want it terrifies me, and the flash of fear is enough to slice through the wave of warm yearning.

I rear back slightly. Richard drops his hands immediately. Takes a half turn away from me. “Sorry,” he murmurs, looking down at the broom on the floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean... I never would have...”

“I know, Richard. I know. It wasn’t just you. I wanted to too.”

He flashes me a quick, searching look.

“But I still don’t know...” I’m about to babble. I can feel it coming. I take a few deep breaths and try to think clearly. “We can be friends. I’m so happy we’re friends. It feels... safe to me. But to be more, to be... that... it would have to feel safe to me too, and right now it doesn’t.”

I think he’s disappointed. I can sense it in him even though he nods quietly, his expression relaxed. “I understand. I’d never push. I still want you... a lot, and sometimes it comes out even though I know better. But I’ll never push you, Gillian. I’ll never pressure you.”

“I know you won’t. Thank you for that. And I understand if... I mean, I’m not upset.”

He swallows and nods. “So you’re not going to start staying away because I...”

I give a little huff of a laugh. “No. I’m not going to stay away. I’ll probably be back tomorrow.”

He smiles. It changes his whole demeanor. He’s always been more handsome than any man has a right to be, but he’s almost unbearably attractive right now.

I take a shaky breath. “It’s late. I should get going.”

“If you wait just a minute, I can walk you back. Or drive you if you’d rather.”

“I’ll be—”

“It’s late. If you insist, I’m not going to argue, but I’d rather you not walk all that way by yourself at this time of night.”

There’s a little part of me that wants to argue, but it’s a silly, irrational part of me. He’s right. It’s late. I don’t really want to walk a