Page 5

Blair

“For the love of God, please just…” I added more water to the front section of my hair, finger curling like my life depended on it. I’d tried every version of curl friendly styling to tame my nest of hair with varying degrees of success, but most of the time I gelled it to my head in a bun when I needed to look put together. Tonight, I wanted to try something different, and I wasn’t about to look too closely at the why of it.

Hint: It had nothing to do with impressing investors.

With a defeated sigh, I pushed my hair back off my face and threaded a pair of gold hoops through my ears. My makeup was minimal, as usual, because it was hard as hell to do anything fancy with glasses on, and I couldn’t see anything without them.

The dress would do most of the work tonight, though. I’d complimented my hair with a figure-hugging forest green number that had cost more than I’d ever confidently spend on myself. The sweetheart neckline toed the line between modest and daring. I loved it. Professional and classy in a way I just couldn’t pull off day to day.

Some lavender essential oils on pulse points to help with anxiety and to smell pretty, and I was ready to go.

As I searched my closet for my black stilettos, a knock echoed through my apartment. The clock read seven PM. Nice to know Cian O’Leary was a man of his word. Stepping into the foot-prisons, I grabbed my purse and hustled for the front door. Just before I opened things up, I realized my cell was still on charge.

“Hey, come in, I just have to grab something,” I said, heading for the bedroom before I’d pulled the door all the way open.

“Okay.” The door clicked shut behind him.

Cian O’Leary is in my apartment.

Putting on a little more speed so he wasn’t left to his own devices for too long, I grabbed my phone, almost tearing the charger out of the wall in my rush. As I stumbled, my shoe slipped off, hitting the floorboards with a clatter.

“Nice place,” he called from somewhere over near my sofa.

“Oh, thanks. It’s not much, but it’s enough.” I hopped a few steps, trying to slip my foot into the shoe. My body tipped on my single point of balance and I threw out a hand and slapped the wall to avoid a face plant.

I hated dressing up.

With a sigh, I slid the stupid shoe on and straightened my dress, then went to confront the night I’d somehow committed myself to.

My footsteps announced my arrival in the sitting area, the clipping loud in the open space. Cian looked over from the photo he’d been studying—one of me in pee wee hockey—and smiled.

“I thought you might have played.”

At least… that’s what I thought he said. My mind had gone blank at the sight of his stupidly pretty face and body jacked into a freaking tuxedo. His beard was neatly trimmed and his hair slicked back like a young Colin Farrell. This was exactly why he was dangerous.

“Are you ready to go? You look…” His eyes traveled down my body in a sweep that seemed to catalog every one of my faults.

“Yeah, I know. I did the best I could. Come on, let’s go.”

I headed for the door but was pulled up short by a grip on my elbow.

Cian was far too close, his eyes burning with something I didn’t want to read into.

“You look amazing, Blair. Really pretty.”

“Whatever.” I shrugged out of his grip and stepped out into the hall, waiting for him to follow me before I locked up.

We took the stairs in silence, our footsteps echoing in the tight space, and as we stepped out into the evening air, I breathed in deeply. This was my favorite time of day. When the sun was close to the horizon and the heat of the day had banked from searing down to something that felt comforting. Cozy. We were close enough to the Colorado River that the musty, slightly fishy smell lingered on the breeze.

“I’m over here.” Cian gestured toward a huge black truck that I’d seen in the parking lot enough to recognize.

“Compensating for something?” I muttered, eyeing the door and wondering how the hell I’d be able to climb up in my dress. The gasp behind me was as unexpected as the light hand that cupped my elbow almost solicitously. “Why, Miss Kennedy. I am shocked and appalled that you would question my manhood. Besides, we’re still getting to know each other. I’m not that kind of girl.” Ridiculously long lashes framed his comically–widened olive eyes, and if it were anyone else, I would have laughed. Instead, I pushed him away, feigning irritation, and closed the distance to his truck.

“Do you have a stepladder for this thing?”

He reached past me to unlock the passenger door and wrapped his hands around my hips.

“No, but I can lift you.”

His grip was warm and overly familiar. Long fingers that almost met at my belly button made me feel almost dainty. This close, his cologne filled my nose. A spicy scent that made me a little dizzy and a lot aware of his proximity.

With an ease that I refused to admit was a turn on, he lifted me into the passenger seat and stepped back, eyes intense on mine.

A generic red sports car pulled in on the other side of the lot, and I took the excuse to break away from whatever this moment was.

The driver stepped out and slammed the door behind him, rubbing a hand on his worn jeans as he spoke into this cell.

“Yeah, I just got here. Nah, just a Netflix and chill thing with some chick whose mom set us up.” He laughed. “Oh, no way. Hopefully, I’ll get my dick sucked and come meet you guys later.”

“Oh shit,” I hissed, realizing who the obnoxious blond was. “Get in. We’ve gotta go.”

Cian’s brow furrowed, like he hadn’t heard a word the idiot across the way had spoken.

Worried we’d be spotted, I leaned in close, slapped my hands to his cheeks and spoke slowly. “Please get in the car right now. I don’t want to deal with that.” I turned his head in Scott’s direction and suppressed a shudder as he checked his breath and pressed my apartment’s call button.

“He’s here for you?”

“No, he’s here because my mother has control issues. Now, please.” I gestured at the driver’s door, and Cian finally got with the program.

“Thank you, God,” I muttered as my… work colleague slid into the truck. He reversed carefully out of the parking slot before peeling away from my apartment complex, leaving the asshole with big oral aspirations holding his metaphorical dick in his hand. The mental image was so absurd a giggle burst out. Cian glanced over with a small grin, and I lost it. Like an inmate pardoned from death row, I cackled at the close call. Relief flooded through my system, and I couldn’t even find it in me to hate that my salvation had come at the hands of Cian O’Leary. The man in question watched me with a bewildered little quirk to his lips as I did my best impression of a hyena.

Damn, my laugh was unattractive.

Cian navigated us smoothly through Austin traffic, and I settled into a content silence. It was weirdly comfortable sitting beside him in the truck, and I tried to discreetly study the hockey player I’d made it my mission to hate.

One of his large hands rested on the top of the steering wheel, altering our position on the road with little pushes of the heel that shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was. His other hand shifted between the stick shift and his knee, tapping out the rhythm of the song playing softly over the radio. His shoulders were relaxed, eyes flicking between the road and rearview with a calm confidence that made me want to sink further into the soft seat.

The growing peace was broken by a loud buzzing in my purse.

My phone.

It was my mom. I knew this without looking because I wasn’t complying with her directive for the night. Even if Scott hadn’t called her, she had a sixth sense for this kind of thing.

We coasted to a stop at a traffic light, and Cian glanced over.

“Are you going to get that?”

I kept my eyes forward and gave my head a small shake, hoping we would get moving again, like we could outpace the call if we had a clear run. Cars shot across the intersection in front of us. Everyone was in a rush to get somewhere, all those cars only impacted us so much as their passage hindered our own.

“It’s my mom.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to share that tidbit. Cian was a work colleague who I didn’t like, but in this space with him, I felt inexplicably safe. “I hate her.”

“Your mom?”

I nodded, and when that didn’t feel like enough, I gave him a tight smile.

“It’s okay, she hated me first.”

Cars slowed on either side of the intersection. The lights changed. His stare burned into the side of my head.

“The light's green.”

Without a word, he put the truck in gear and didn’t slow until we pulled into the parking lot of the function.

The event passed in a blur of hand shaking, sparkling wine, and fake smiles for deep pocketed patrons. By the time the silent auction was drawn, my feet ached and I’d developed a muscle tick in my right cheek.

I hated these things, but they were part of the job, and a vindictive part of me usually got enjoyment out of making Cian do them too. He was an action kind of guy who had no patience for the forced pleasantries. But tonight felt different. It could have been arriving together, or maybe that moment in the car, or perhaps how he had checked in on me so solicitously throughout the night, but as he grimaced his way through a conversation with an older couple whose eyes shone with an uncomfortable greed, I felt drawn to his side.

“Please excuse me,” I told them, tucking my hand into his elbow. “I need to borrow Mr. O’Leary.”

I pulled him away to a chorus of vaguely hostile agreement and well wishes for the season.

“Thank you. I’m pretty sure they were gearing up to ask for a ménage á trois.”

“They were ancient!”

“Little blue pills and lube solve a multitude of problems.”

I pulled us to a stop, gaping at him until I noticed a small tick in the corner of his lips.

“You jerk!” I slapped his shoulder. “I thought you were serious.”

He chuckled, steering me toward the exit with subtle movements.

“Seriously, though. They seemed a little intense.”

He nodded, opening the door and guiding me through with a hand on my lower back that burned through my dress.

“I’m used to it. You actually saved me before the inappropriate comments started, so thanks for that.” He smiled at me as we wandered out into the warm night air. A part of me couldn’t believe I was speaking so easily with the man I’d hated for so long.

And then he went and ruined things.

“Oh, hey. I forgot to show you. I wore these just for you.” Pausing in the middle of the parking lot, he hitched up his pant leg to display socks with little rubber duckies stitched into them. “Get it? Duckies. Like you.”

How did he know about the nickname? Had this all been a setup to remind me that I would always be the ugly fucking duckling?

My stomach churned as he waited for a response. What the hell could I say?

With a deep breath through my nose, I blinked against the burning behind my eyes.

“Message received. Take me home, please.” There. Polite, without showing how much it hurt.

Why did I think it was a good idea to trust him with anything? He’d already proven it was a bad idea.

Because I was attracted to him.

Despite how he’d treated me years ago, my not-good-enough-ugly heart had decided it wanted him.

“Wait, what? What message?” His brow furrowed as he, thankfully, dropped his pant leg back over the stupid socks. I rolled my eyes and bee-lined for his truck. I still had my dignity, dammit, and I didn’t have to stick around and be the butt of anyone else’s jokes. That was the beauty of being an adult, you chose the company you kept.

“Hey, I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t mean to…” He cut off with a sigh as I resolutely stared at the locked door of his truck.

When the locks clicked open, he reached to lift me into his truck but I brushed his hands away and awkwardly climbed in by myself.

On the drive home, I steadfastly ignored the looks he cast my way. He didn’t get to fuck with my head and then demand answers. If I thought the sudden rift between us would cause even a second of lost sleep for him I might have felt guilty, but Cian would forget about me and my hurt little feelings the second he dropped me in front of my apartment building.

As soon as the truck pulled to a stop in my parking lot, I slid out the door, nearly twisting an ankle on the way down, but nothing would stop me getting inside. Back to safety. The thunk behind me told me Cian had jumped out to walk me to my door, unexpected, and extremely unwelcome. I was done. The burning in my eyes had evolved into a well of tears that blurred my vision, and I’d be goddamned if he saw even one of them.

My keys were in the bottom of my purse, evading my grip as I lengthened my stride.

“Blair.” He was close behind me. Of course. He had stupidly long legs and wasn’t trying to make an escape in stilettos. My fingertips brushed the key set, and I grasped it like a lifeline.

“What?!” My voice cracked.

There was a moment of silence where our the click of my heels and the clomp of his shoes echoed around the parking lot in a synchronized symphony of unsaid words, and I had to work at not turning around.

“I’m scared anything I say to you will make it worse,” he said. His footsteps slowed to a stop, still a distance back as I reached my door and spent no time unlocking it.

“Good night, Cian.” I spared a single glance back as I slipped inside, barely able to stand the way his eyebrows furrowed. The downturn of his soft mouth.

He looked almost… confused. But that wasn’t right. He’d intentionally humiliated me with the reminder of the awful nickname that I thought I’d left with my family.

Apparently not.