Page 23 of Grind
“Ava,” I close my eyes and open them, resolute. “If you don’t want to go out with me. I’m not going to say I’m not going to be disappointed, because I will. But I’ll understand. No pressure.”
Our eyes meet, and whatever doubt’s there gives way to something else. She shakes her head. “No, Connor, I….” her voice trails off and then I get a hint of the Ava I saw earlier tonight. “To be honest, I’d like to know more. But not tonight. And I’m very much looking forward to going out with you.”
I can’t stop myself from grinning, and sliding my arms around her waist to lean down. She shivers a little in my arms. Fuck. With all the self-restraint of St. Patrick himself, I kiss her chastely on the forehead.
“You get upstairs, get warm, and eat some of that food before it gets cold,” I whisper against her hair. Jesus, she smells good. “Text me if you have time, or need anything. And I’ll see you soon.”
I wait until she heads upstairs and then head to my car and drive toward the Kildare, distracted as all hell.
9
Ava
None of the dresses that I haveare perfect.They're either summer dresses,or work dresses. Not something I want to wear on a date with Connor.
My small closet is stuffed with everything I own. Brooks ruined my best dresses, ripping them when he grabbed me in the throes of some argument or covering them with blood spatters when he hurt me even worse.
It’s just another way he leftwreckage in his wake.On some level it feels good to be pissed instead of scared. I feel more like my old self.
Looking in the full-length mirroron the bathroom door of my studio, I give a little shrug.The simple black dress and heels,set off with my mother'sgold hoop earrings,will have to do
It’s hard: I’ve seen the totally glamorous women who pour out of Intrigue, with their upmarket fashion, Pilates bodies, and three-hundred-dollar highlights. A law student and waitress on a tight budget can’t manage that level ofsophistication. Not right now, at least. Still,I have a feeling that Connor’s not going to mind.
His face was so hopeful, his eyes so warm, as he asked me out.
I’d been so conflicted. If Brooks saw us together or caught windthat I was going on even a casual date,he’d unleash a world of hurt.
Still,as I looked up at Connor’s blue eyes, I decided.It’s not that I don’t care or am not scared. But for the first time in a long time, my own desire for something – for spending time with Connor - is stronger than my fear of Brooks Stacy getting mad.
Rhonda, the other waitress who often works the night shift with me, was willing to trade so I could get a Friday night off. Her eyes lingered on my face and then she’d said in her heavy smoker’s voice, “Honey, you get on that or I will.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
There’s a light rap at the door, and momentarily I freeze. No one should be able to get in here without buzzing. That’s the whole reason I moved to the tiny studio, even though it stretched my budget to the limits. There’s an outside security system, and a part-time doorman.
A few seconds later, a light tap follows. “Ava?”
Immediately, my shoulders relax and I move to unlock the door. Deadbolt. Slide bolt. Bottom lock. Just to double check, as if I can’t trust my own ears, I keep the chain engaged and pull the door open.
Connor stands on the other side of the door, legs spread wide and his broad shoulders blocking the view of the hallway beyond him, When our eyes meet, his whole face lights up with a smile. Oh, lord, those dimples. I undo the chain, taking in how good he looks. Dark slacks, a white shirt and a black sport coat. Freshly shaved. The man smells fantastic, and my whole body gives a little shiver of anticipation.
He steps into the apartment and glances around. I cleaned every inch of the place until it sparkled, shoving my belongings into drawers, under the bed, into the closet. But it’s tiny and it’s old—especially compared to his gorgeous space.
But he doesn’t comment on the apartment. Instead, he pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind his back and hands them out to me. These are no corner store carnations, but an absolutely stunning bouquet with lilies and roses in an expensive crystal vase.
“Thank you,” I breathe. He steps in closer, putting the flowers on my little folding kitchen table and then taking my hand.
His eyes sweep me up and down, taking their sweet time in an appreciative way.
“You look stunning.”
“You don’t look bad yourself.” I can’t fight back a smile. Immediately, I’m horrified. Was that supposed to be playful? What kind of a compliment is that? I don’t even know what’s coming out of my mouth around this man.
But he’s still smiling, his eyes crinkling at the edges and dimples flashing. Other, lower parts of my body warm up in response.
If we’re going to go on an actual date, we have to get out of here now. Or I’m going to have this man on the futon, which is the least sexy thought I can imagine.
He clears his throat and surreptitiously adjusts himself. It’s not just me then. “So, about our plans tonight.”
