Page 65 of Unexpected Hero

“I’m sorry, Lettie. I didn’t mean it that way.” He takes a cleansing breath. “What’s the second thing that upset you?”

“Why would you say it’s a mistake to kiss me? Don’t you like me?” My voice quakes, revealing the true crux of my issue. I want him to want to kiss me the way I want to kiss him. And it hurts like hell that he doesn’t.

Instead of answering, he stares at his lap, his jaw clenching tight.

“James, why are we on a date if you don’t want to explore our,” my open palm sways between us, “connection or chemistry? I want to get to know you, and if that includes kissing, I’m all for it.” Snarky Lettie enters the chat. “Or at least I did until a few minutes ago.”

“The reason it’s a mistake isn’t something I can easily explain.”

I flap my hands out, letting them collapse onto my lap. “Well, either try to explain or take me home. The choice is yours. I’m not gonna sit here and beg you for scraps.”

He makes a sound that’s a cross between a groan, a grumble, and a sigh. And I wish that didn’t make me want to smile, but it fucking does.

“I’m not... in a position... where I can pursue a... physical relationship... with you.”

Wow. Did that cause him actual pain? The way he tripped over those words and still made it to the end of his sentence would be impressive if it didn’t make me want to punch him.

But here we are.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why?”

He drags his palm over his face, frustration seeping from him. And then he shakes his head, refusing to answer me.

“Seriously?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“James, answer me this.” A flinch rolls across his face. I almost missed it, but something definitely bothered him. Perhaps it was the way I ordered him instead of asking.

Oh my freaking hell. Will you listen to me?

I can’t stand myself for thinking that. Why am I blaming myself for this? He kissed me first, then immediately shot me down. I couldn’t possibly be the cause of this drama. And the sooner I get that through my thick skull, the better.

“What, Lettie?”

“Do you like me?”

“Yes.”

“Is this a friendly kind of like or something more?”

He narrows his eyes, tightly furrowing his brows.

I clarify my question. “To be perfectly clear, does the something more involve kissing and other things, or is it strictly platonic?”

He looks down again, unable to meet my eyes. “Something more.”

The confusion inside me grows, swirling around like a vortex. It would make more sense if he just liked me as a friend. The kiss would truly have been an accident because he didn’t know what to say and just acted. In that case, I could understand his point about not wanting to lead me on.

But he didn’t say that.

Then why the sudden shift? I don’t get it.

“Is it my age?”

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