Page 178 of Holding On To Good

Face ashen, movements jerky, she took a quick step back.

Anytime he did or said something that could, in even the smallest way, be construed as something a boyfriend might do or say, anytime he so much as hinted at wanting more, she immediately went back to their old song and dance.

One step forward

Two steps back.

His own fault. He’d given her the lead that night at their office. Had let her keep it and all those rules and regulations she’d stipulated.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try and steer them in a new direction every once in a while.

She turned and put her laptop back on the counter. Picked up her wine and took a fortifying gulp before facing him again, the set of her shoulders letting him know she was ready to fight him on this. “We already agreed—”

“I’m not saying we have to go back on our agreement.”

He wasn’t saying it, but Christ, he wished they could.

But if he tried to change too much, too soon, if he pushed for more than she was willing to give, he’d lose her.

“Okay,” she said, slow and wary but at least willing to hear him out. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that we could tweak it. Compromise. Like we do at J&K.”

“Compromise how?”

“We have dates. Private dates,” he added when she opened her mouth, looking ready to shut him down. “Either here or at your place.”

“What kind of dates?”

“We eat. Maybe watch a movie or one of Elijah’s games. Sit on the patio with a beer and watch the sunset.”

“Fine. But nothing romantic. No flowers” –—she sent a pointed look at the bouquet he’d picked up at Gingham’s Florist— “or seductive music. If it even remotely resembles any scene from any romantic comedy, the dates are done.”

He thought of the hour he’d spent adding songs to the playlist he had queued up and ready to go but accepted her conditions with a nod. “You come to Ian’s games again. And Sunday dinners.”

She moved her wineglass from her right hand to her left. “I’ll come to Ian’s games and one dinner—”

“Three.”

Her mouth flattened. “Two dinners a month. But our conversations will be light, superficial and, as far as your family is concerned, normal. There will be no loaded glances or lingering touches. No flirting, no matter how innocent or friendly” —she added air quotes, but only with one hand as she still held her wine— “they may be. No comments that even come close to innuendo. Nothing to make anyone suspicious.”

Suspicious. Like they were doing something illegal. Immoral.

Wrong.

Besides, going by the smug, knowing grin Miles gave him two nights ago when Urban casually mentioned he was heading to Willow’s told him at least one member of his family had already figured out they were sleeping together.

And if Willow knew that, he’d never get her to step foot inside his house again.

He gave her another nod.

“And we’re never alone,” she added, sensing she had the upper hand when, in truth, she held all the fucking cards. “No sneaking off or ducking into a locked bathroom.”

Raising his eyebrows, he once again stepped forward. “Not even to make one of your fantasies come true?” he murmured. “The one with us locked in a room together with people on the other side of the door?”

She blinked. Blinked again, her mouth opening on a long, silent whoosh of air.

“Because ever since you told me you liked that idea,” he continued, “I’ve been thinking of ways to make that happen for you.”

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