Page 15 of When I Fall In Love

The elevator stops again, and more people get in as it’s the end of the day and some people get to clock out. I never clock out—not in my head. Hunter inches closer to me and soon his arm brushes against mine. I shrink away, not needing the disarming comfort of him touching me in such a casual way.

“What do you feel like for dinner?” he asks quietly as the elevator doors close, leaning into my ear to keep the question private.

I glance up at him, glad to be pulled out of the dark thoughts about my relationship status. “Chinese? That’s something you’ll have to drive for in Ashleigh Lake.”

Hunter smiles. “Not anymore. We have a Chinese and a Vietnamese restaurant in town now.”

“Really?” I’m surprised.

“Ashleigh Lake has changed just enough to make it perfect in the past decade or so.”

“Perfect, hmm?” I hum in an undertone laced with tease. “You’ll never leave that place, will you?”

“There’s no reason to leave. Not with my business there. I’ve been making plans to expand so Bill and May can eventually retire—” Hunter breaks off and lets his words hang between us.

Oh, he’s good. He’s working me already. I refuse to be lured out like this and complete his sentence in my head. I will not acknowledge that Hunter is sticking around to look after Bill and May in their old age. I spent all the time I could with Mom during her illness, but it wasn’t enough—it could never be enough. And then she constantly pressured me to be at work and not worry about her. Little did I know how fast the end would come when the cancer took over.

I bite my lip hard to keep my emotions in check. When we stop on the first floor, at last I can get out of the confining space with his body this close. As soon as we’re out, we split apart until there’s a good yard between us.

We walk out of the building and into the late September evening. This is the perfect time of the year. Summer at its peak before temperatures start to dip. One thing I do miss are the fall colors, and then the snow and white Christmasses of Vermont. All those cozy times. Things in San Francisco can never be cozy like that.

“Do you have a place in mind for dinner?” Hunter asks, already on his phone’s map app. “Somewhere we can walk to, or will we need a taxi? I can call one real quick.”

“Where’re you staying?”

“A couple of blocks away.” We come to a standstill on the curb, Hunter with a raised brow and a questioning look in his gaze. As he studies me, the look in his eyes changes from questioning to concern. “I don’t think you’re going to make it. There’s a place on the corner here—come on.”

I do feel weak. Legs all rubbery and unwilling, the shock of seeing him and the subsequent adrenaline peak dipping into a deep, dark valley where all my heartache brewed. Never mind a bad date, this was a bad idea.

“Hunter—”

“You need to eat, Beth,” he says as he gently cups my elbow with his hand. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

I move on autopilot now, unable to resist the gentle strength of his fingers’ guidance. He leads me into a bar that I often frequent with colleagues, and already it’s busy. We usually only stumble in here after nine, or even at ten at night, when it’s positively rowdy. The place seems unnaturally calm to me so early in the evening. The bar has a restaurant on the second floor and Hunter heads straight for the stairs, cornering a waitress halfway and telling her we need a table so I can sit down. She nods and Hunter makes way for me to follow the waitress up the stairs. Now I do feel faint, but he’ll catch me if I fall.

We make it to a corner table and Hunter pulls out a chair for me as the waitress indicates the QR code we need to scan to access the menu.

“I can’t be bothered with this. Bring us your three most popular starters for now,” Hunter says to the waitress before she can dash off. “You still eat everything? Vegan hasn’t rubbed off on you since you moved here?”

“No,” I mutter. “I still eat everything.”

“Not enough nor in good time, clearly,” he huffs under his breath, but turns back to the waitress. “And we’ll have a bottle of… white?”

“Chardonnay,” I say. “Limestone Ridge. Goes well with nachos. And the scallops. And your veggie spring rolls.”

“The lady has spoken. That’s what she wants.” Hunter smiles at me and then glances up at the waitress. “And bring us some water, please.”

The waitress nods and hurries off, leaving me alone with this man who I refuse to let override me. There follows a long moment when we settle into our seats and Hunter scans the QR code and gives the menu a disinterested swipe-through. He turns his phone face down on the table and gathers his hands together. “So… how long until you make partner at the firm?” he asks, but then shakes his head. “I don’t even know if you want to become a partner.”

“One or two years if all goes as planned. Things are coming along perfectly.” The notion that anybody could mess with my life and career always triggers a defensive response. Partner at thirty-three at one of the biggest law firms in San Francisco is what I deserve and what I will get. Nobody is going to mess with my big hairy audacious goal—not when I’m this close. Everything I’ve ever done has been aimed at financial independence for me and my family and nobody needs to dig deep into my psyche to understand where my drive comes from. If your mom had been fucked over by ‘fate’ time and time again, forced to move like a pawn on a chessboard, you’d also be sure to never let anybody control you in any way. No man will dictate what I do with my life. No woman either. “Junior partner, that is.”

“That’ll be no small feat.”

I look up from Hunter’s hands, from where his fingers are laced together and his thumbs are stroking each other absentmindedly. Why do I find that movement so… erotic? I swallow and look him dead in the eye. “I’ve been working my butt off for it.”

“I’m sure.”

Several beats of silence stretch between us and it’s my turn to say something. Dang it. I haven’t dated for years and am totally out of practice. I have no clue what to say, except that there’s a tsunami of questions in me that I’ve never had answers to, and never will have either, unless I actually ask them.

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