Page 44 of Fire in You

I widened my eyes. Not like I was going to tell him exactly what was on my mind, but I said, “I’m nervous.”

“What’s got you nervous?” he asked, and when I glanced over at him, I saw that his gaze had been briefly on me before he refocused on the road.

“This whole . . . wining and dining thing is not my forte,” I admitted.

“Oh, I think it’s up your alley.”

I snorted like a little piglet, one of those tiny, fat ones. “I think you’re on drugs.”

“And I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit,” he replied. “You grew up with these guys coming in and out of the Academy. You know how to talk to them. You know how to handle them.”

I turned back to the passenger window as a reluctant half-grin pulled at my lips. “It’s not the same as then, though.

“How so?” he challenged.

Fiddling with the strap on my seatbelt, I decided I could be honest about why I was nervous. It wasn’t easy. As soon as I started speaking, my cheeks heated. “You . . . you remember that I can’t hear out of my right ear?” I kept going, not giving him a chance to say something. “When I’m with groups of people and there’s a lot of background noise, it can be hard for me to follow the conversation. The meetings at the office aren’t too bad,” I added in a rush. “It’s quiet, so it’s not hard to follow, but restaurants sometimes can be the worst.”

“I know,” Brock said after a moment. “I wasn’t thinking the Friday I saw you at the restaurant and stood on your right side. Sorry about that.”

I glanced at him sharply, having forgotten that he’d done that. “It’s okay. People forget. It happens.”

“That wasn’t cool of me,” he continued, one hand draped over the steering wheel. “I took that into consideration. We have one of the more private booths in the back of the restaurant where it should be quieter. I’ll be sitting to your right, so our guests will be to your left and across from you.”

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say. Part of me was relieved to learn he had taken my hearing into consideration, lessening the possibility of that becoming an issue. The other half of me was embarrassed he had to take that into consideration. And all of me was annoyed that I was embarrassed in the first place. My partial hearing was a fact of life now. I shouldn’t be ashamed.

Annoyed, my fingers tightened around the strap. “I hate that I’m embarrassed by it,” I admitted, unable to stop myself.

“You shouldn’t be.”

“I know. I know I shouldn’t. I guess . . .”

“You don’t like the attention it brings,” he said, surprising me because he hit the nail right on the head. “You were never big on being the center of attention.”

A dry laugh parted my lips. “I prefer to be an observer.” Feeling his hand on mine, I stopped talking and looked down. His fingers were gently working mine from the strap. Sucking in a shallow breath, I looked over at him.

Brock was still focused on the road. “If you keep twisting the seatbelt like that, you’re going to twist it right off.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, because that was all I could say. He’d lowered my left hand to my thigh and hadn’t let go. His large hand completely covered mine and the tips of his fingers were resting against my upper thigh.

My heart leapt in my chest, slamming against my ribs as I stared at his shadowy profile. My mouth dried, and I didn’t pull my hand out from his. I was mostly frozen, except for my mouth. Unfortunately. “Are you and Kristen still together?” I wanted to smack myself upside the head the moment I asked that question, because I really didn’t need to know the answer.

“I told you we weren’t engaged.” Brock shot me a wry grin.

He had. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not still seeing each other. You went back to Philly this weekend and—”

“I want back there to sign paperwork for the sale of the house,” he explained. “I did see Kristen. She still had things she needed to get out of there. It’s taken her a year. I told her if she didn’t get her stuff out this weekend, I was donating the shit.”

“Oh.” My eyes widened.

“She wasn’t exactly happy about that.” His thumb moved over the side of my pinky, sliding up and down. It was such a slight touch, but my entire being focused on it. “It was a long weekend.”

Gathering my thoughts, I recalled how tired he’d looked Monday morning. “So . . . why did she come here?”

“You know, I wish I knew why. None of the reasons she gave me made a damn bit of sense, all things considered.” His thumb still moved over my hand. Did he realize he was doing that? I was pretty sure that wasn’t something a boss did with their employee or friends, because that would get weird quick. “But to answer your question, no, I’m not seeing Kristen in any shape or form.”

“Oh,” I whispered.

The Porsche coasted to a stop at a red light and he looked over at me, his eyes hidden in the darkness of the car. “I’m not seeing anyone, Jillian.”

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