Page 30 of We Were Something
My head whips around, and that’s when my eyes lock on a figure standing in the doorway between the interior and the back yard.
The very man Lennon and I were discussing in the car.
Dr. Logan Becker.
My eyes stay locked on his for a long, long moment before dropping to take in his attire. A striped gray and white button-up with the sleeves rolled loosely around his forearms. Gray pants that fit his long frame with brown Oxfords and no socks, a decidedly European look that suits him in a way I wasn’t expecting.
And tonight…he’s wearing glasses.
Unable to help it, I lick my lips as I turn away, trying to remind myself that Ishouldn’tlook at the doctor as if he’s a piece of meat I’d like to rip into, no matter how true it might be. Becausedamndoes the man look good tonight.
More time than I realized must have gone by in that brief moment of braindead gawking, because in the next second, Ben is at my side with a rocks glass of clear liquid and a few ice cubes.
He eyes me curiously as he passes it my way.
“I’m not even going to ask” is all he mumbles before winking at me, nodding his head at Logan, and then heading out to the back yard where the rest of our company are gathered.
And that leaves me alone with Dr. Becker.
Which shouldn’t make me feel anxious or nervous in any way—I’m not some schoolgirl with a ridiculous crush, and I’ve literallyneverbeen nervous around a man before—and yet I can’t help but identify an unfamiliar little tremor that’s making my stomach swoop around in a way I haven’t experienced before.
“Part of me is surprised to see you here, and another part feels like I should have known to expect you.”
He says this as he rounds the back of the gray couch and steps toward me, his tone light and his expression open and warm.
I take a deep breath and remind myself of the conversation Ijusthad with Lennon. I’ve seen this look on his face before. Open. Sincere.Interested.
And in each of those instances, I’ve made sexual innuendos and basically insinuated that I’d drop to my knees for him if he would do me the teensiest favor of unbuttoning his fly.
Jesus.
Clearing my throat, I return his smile, trying to back off the cat-that-ate-the-canary grin I normally give to men I want to hook up with.
“Well, I can’t say the same,” I finally reply. “I really had no idea you’d be here tonight.”
Logan nods. “Yeah, it was kind of a last-minute thing.”
I nod as well, my mind scrambling to come up with something to say that doesn’t make me sound like all I want is his penis.
“Well…good luck in advance,” I joke. “Our group is kind of a mess. Especially when we drink, so…” My eyes drop to his feet. “But at least your shoes should be safe this time around.”
At that, he purses his lips, almost as if he’s trying to hide a smile, but he doesn’t say anything else. He just stands there, two feet away from me, his eyes roving over my face like he has a million thoughts on his mind and doesn’t know where to begin with verbalizing them.
Lennon was right. I can literallyseehis interest in me as it washes across his face, as if it’s a neon sign.
But for whatever reason, his ability to hit on me or flirt with me or do anything that would indicate his interest in verbal form…it’s stuck somewhere inside of him, unwilling to come out and play.
Easy does it, Paige, I tell myself.If you really do like the guy, take a breath and give him some time.
So I take a breath and step forward, resting my hand lightly on his exposed forearm.
“It’ll be fun to chat a bit tonight,” I finally say, smiling as I tilt my head in the direction of the back yard. “I’m gonna go say hello to the gang.”
Then I give his arm a squeeze and head outside.
It feels a bit like the way I flirted with him at the gala before walking away, but this time, I don’t intentionally imply something else, sway my hips, look back over my shoulder.
I don’t lean into the idea of interacting with him like it’s some sort of game.
