Page 29 of Against the Clock

The change in her is immediate. Kelsey squares her shoulders, inhaling deeply and knotting my old school shirt up so it shows off her sexy figure… and probably more so because she might trip over the length.

I trail after her as she floats back into my bedroom, where she belongs. I give myself a mental shake. No, I can’t think like that.

She pauses at the door, a reusable grocery bag filled with the clothes I retrieved from the dryer clutched tight in one hand.

“I don’t know where your front door is,” she admits.

Begging her to stay again is on the tip of my tongue, but I close my mouth on the words and take her hand instead.

“I’ll show you. That way you know your way back here if you change your mind.” Fuck. I’m still coming on too strong.

“Right.” A disgruntled snort punctuates the remark. The look she gives me is slightly frustrated, her nose pinched up like she doesn’t believe me. I stare right back down at her as I lead her through my house, quiet in the still dark early morning.

It dawns on me then, why she’s acting weird.

She thinks I’m lying.

She thinks I’m playing her. She thinks I’m placating her.

A relieved laugh gusts out of me. It echoes off the hard surfaces of the house, harsher than it should be. Her expression darkens at the sound, her feet shuffling along in the too-large shoes along the distressed wood floor.

“You wanted to know my favorite book,” I say, opening the heavy front door. A gold Honda sits in the circular drive in front of my house, the twinkle lights still on in the garden.

She pauses, one foot out the door. “Yeah, I did.”

“I can do you one better than telling you. Stay right there.”

Her lips purse, but she doesn’t refuse, shrugging one shoulder, the collar of my shirt slipping off it, revealing a delicate bra strap.

I stare at it a moment too long, then clear my throat.

“Stay there, I’ll be right back,” I repeat, then jog to the study directly behind the stairs that spiral down into the entryway. My eyes protest the bright light when I throw the switch and I scan the shelves, trying to find what I’m looking for. Not on the first shelf… no… my eyes dart back and forth until they finally land on it.

There. The book that made me fall in love with reading.

My hands are huge on the tattered paper cover, the pages so dog-eared and the spine so worn I’m almost embarrassed to give it to her.

“Hey, you okay?” Kelsey calls out, her voice loud in the empty house.

I slap the book cover against one hand, smiling to myself as I race back to the front door.

“Here,” I say. “This was my favorite book as a kid.”

She looks from the book in my hand to my face, then back down again. I tuck it in her bag, and when I glance back at her, she’s blinking quickly, as though she’s too surprised to comprehend what I’m doing.

I think I like her off-balance.

I think I’m going to have a lot of fun proving her wrong about me, and suddenly, I can’t wait to get started.

My chest feels light and tight all at once, happiness cracking it open as I take her small hand in mine, a hand that’s thrown a thousand footballs but hasn’t ever held anything that felt so right as hers.

I walk her out to the car, my dress shoes loud on the pavestones, her feet making the funniest noise as she shuffles next to me.

“Hey, I know you,” the driver says.

Kelsey gives me a bewildered, apologetic look, and I want to wipe that look straight off her face. I don’t give a fuck if everyone I run into for the rest of my life knows who I am.

I just want to kiss her.

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