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That’s the excuse I’m using. Mads wants me to forgive her and pretend she didn’t gut me.
Still petty.
But I’m not over it, or ready to endure her over-the-top effort to force me to forgive her. I figure if I introduce her to Em, it will take the focus off me. Em’s story is closer to mine than I thought. He also played a semester of college hockey but had to leave school. He’s struggling to find his way, and Mads is a sucker for a lost soul. I’d love her to take Em under her wing and lift him up. That’s her specialty.
Shane shudders at the thought of playing hockey.
“You guys get out of here. I’ll lock up.”
After they leave, I suspect I should’ve asked Shane for advice on Von. His analytical brain could dissect our interactions and give me an objective perspective. Can I trust Von?
As if my mind simply conjures up the man I can’t get out of my head, Von is standing on the other side of the picture window. I’m unwittingly participating in a stare down.
Confused, I do the only thing I can think of to defuse the energy crackling through me. My fingers fly across the screen, typing out a message to Von.
Me: where’s my coffee
My self-restraint and self-preservation are hanging on by a thread and humor is the shield preventing me from throwing the door open, dragging him inside, and having my way with him, leaving rational thought behind. I wait for Von to read his phone, but he ignores it to maintain eye contact with me.
Me: If you don’t have a gift, I’m going to assume you’re a stalker. Maybe I should tie you up
The stalker routine––done with it. I’ve never been tempted by someone as much as him. It’s best to burn out this thing between us, but I’m not certain he’s interested. I’ve given Von so many flirty verbal cues. He never responds. His lust-filled eyes drink in my body. I love being admired as much as the next guy, but he was clear that I’m not welcome in his life. He needs to be straightforward if he’s going to stalk my life.
I hold up my phone and shake it, hoping he understands I’m texting him. He keeps staring.
Motherfucker.
I can’t walk away.
I bring my phone to my ear. His phone startles him and fucking finally, he looks at it to answer the call.
“What do you want?” I ask before he speaks.
“You.”
That one word causes my stomach to flip like I’ve plunged into a free fall. I search for a snarky retort, but when my Viking eye fucks me, it’s hard to think. Keeping the phone to my ear on the off chance he has more to say, I unlock the door.
“I took my past out on you.” His words rush out. “A couple of my partners were with me for the fame and an ex-boyfriend sold stories to the tabloids. I assumed the worst when you’ve done nothing but help me with my art and never asked for anything in return.” Von pleads for understanding.
“I would never.” I throw my hands up.
“I know.” Von scrubs his hand over his face. “Thank you. And I know it was you who got them to print their retraction.”
“I’m sorry that I’m responsible for exposing you to the tabloids.” Although I’m sorry, he had to know eventually someone would connect his name as an artist to his fame. We live in a world of global social media.
He takes a hesitant step forward. “I like you, Alec. Can we see more of each other?”
Still holding the phone to my ear, my other hand dangles uselessly at the end of my arm by my side while I process the shock of his admission.
There are solid reasons for not doing this with Von.
Valid reasons.
Lots and lots of red flags. And I don’t do relationships.
It took a lot to disclose my past to Von. I ignored the voice in my head telling me it was a terrible idea because he treated me worse than garbage. He could do it again.
“I went to The Q Solutions to show you I’m sorry. Going there for you seems selfish because you do so much for them. I do not expect you to excuse my behavior, but”—he runs his hand through his hair—“if you change your mind, you know where to find me. I’ll stop stalking you. It’s probably not as sexy as you imagined.” His smile seems forced as he takes a step backward.