Page 62 of More Than Words

As someone I could fall for.

I’d promised myself after Grant that I’d never go for the lovable asshole again, but Adrian was making it hard to stay away.

“You’re just trying to screw something else,” I teased, leaning into his shoulder and looking up at him.

“Someone else,” he said with a wink. “I’d be lying if I tried to deny it, but talk first, screw later.”

Adrian was right, Pops was snoring before we got through the exit of the parking lot. Which left me to watch the excited Sox fans still lingering on the sidewalks as we headed toward South Boston from Fenway.

I’d been in Boston for years, but I’d never had a reason to venture into what the locals called Southie. A creature of habit, I stuck to my little neighborhood of Jamaica Plain or downtown, where the Vivid offices were located. After the divorce, most of my friendships fizzled, except for Leila’s.

Throwing myself into my professional life made sense then, but now I was questioning all the choices I’d made along the way. If I didn’t insulate myself with endless manuscript acquisitions, long hours and a hectic travel schedule, would I have met someone by now? Or was it all building up to what was unfolding with Adrian? I found it hard to believe that the man I thought I’d despised for being a pig for the last five years was suddenly the man I was supposed to end up with. But it wasn’t like my romantic radar had really worked out for me before.

The overhead light startled me when Hutch opened the passenger door, turning in his seat to aim the O’Neill signature grin in my direction. Oh yeah, those two had been dangerous once upon a time. Actually, they still were.

“It’s been a pleasure, Bel. I hope my dipshit brother doesn’t screw things up and I’ll get to see you again sometime soon.” He extended his hand through the break in the seats to grasp mine and drew it toward his mouth, his eyes intent on mine. Soft lips gently caressed the back of my hand, his beard tickling my knuckles before he pulled away, chuckling.

“Don’t hit me, you fuck,” Hutch laughed, rubbing the back of his head while Adrian aimed a deathly glare at his brother.

“Don’t kiss my... fuck.” Adrian trailed off with a groan as Hutch smacked him in the stomach.

“Boys,” Pops huffed from the seat beside me, now wide awake. “Let’s pretend we have some manners in front of the lady.”

He turned toward me, mimicking his grandson, softly placing a kiss on the back of my hand and leaning back with a wink.

“I’ve got my eye on you, old man,” Adrian laughed while watching our interaction in the rearview mirror.

“It’s not our fault we’ve got more game than you. Better step it up if you want to keep this one,” Pops chuckled before he turned back to me. “Don’t be a stranger. I’ve got a feeling my boy might already be over his head with you. Be easy on him, sweetheart.”

Hutch helped Pops from the backseat, the two of them waving as they ascended the concrete steps of the row house we’d parked in front of. The siding looked a little weathered on the old building, but the front door and the trim were nicely painted. It wouldn’t take much to imagine two dark-haired troublemakers spilling out of the front door and running amok in the neighborhood. Seeing it just added to the ever-changing picture of who Adrian was in my mind.

My door pulled open, Adrian leaning over the top with a soft smile. “You want to ride shotgun or pretend I’m an Uber driver?”

“You mean I have to be seen in a car with you? How embarrassing,” I teased.

“I can throw you in the trunk if you’re that worried about it.”

“Maybe you’ve been reading a few too many of Evan’s novels,” I laughed. “Although it usually is the pretty ones who end up being the serial killers.”

“No black coffee here, remember?” he shot back, holding his hand out. “I’ll make you suffer sitting in the front with me. I kinda enjoyed being able to watch you squirm with my hand on your thigh all afternoon.”

Unable to argue with that, I took his hand. I’d never admit it to him, but I too was craving the feeling of his palm after it’d spent most of the game possessively gripping the space where my denim shorts met my thigh.

ADRIAN

Boston

Isobel’s hand cradled mine the entire ride to my apartment. We quietly watched the sun drop below the horizon as we headed west, the city seeming to come alive after dark. Part of me wanted to take her out somewhere, sit down and tease her over dinner, but I knew we needed to talk to see if we were on the same page. She seemed like she’d be receptive to trying out a relationship, but I wanted to make sure. With my terrible habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, I couldn’t afford to leave this up to chance.

Being a temporary fling was exciting, but I was catching feelings. Or maybe I was just tired of having to suppress my feelings. Either way, I wanted more.

It’d kill me, but if she wanted something casual, we could call it quits now and try to go back to some semblance of a working relationship.

Although Evan was currently avoiding my calls, his revised manuscript had shaped up to be something we could fast-track to print. Usually, once inspiration hit, he was quick to turn around a first draft. And his newfound inspiration for working with Chase might ensure that.

I could throw myself into his next project and anything else that came across my desk and go back to watching her in staff meetings.

Except this time, I’d know what she tasted like.

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