Page 37 of Free to Run
The same thought must come to him because his full lips turn into a smile before he lifts his glass of wine. “A toast. To more laughter.”
Quickly swallowing a bite of heaven, I tip my wine glass to touch his. The ping echoes in the quiet room. “This mac and cheese is incredible. Thank you.” I inhale another bite. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.
He acknowledges my words with a small nod, a smile playing on his lips.
I pick up my glass and twirl it by the stem. We’re both silent; I’m not certain if asking what I need to will shatter the calm we’re operating under. I place my glass on the table and reach for my fork when I feel his large hand cover mine.
“You can ask me whatever is going through your head. This is the beginning for us.” His warm hand engulfs mine, squeezing.
I sigh. “What do you mean the beginning of us? There is no us.” My voice is sharp, but my heart is damaged from the feelings this man has dragged to the surface.
His emerald eyes narrow on my face. “Is that what you want? For me to walk out that door and not give this a chance?”
My head is blank, and the spot where my heart used to live until a few hours earlier is aching at the thought. I croak out the only words I can. “I need time, Keene.”
He nods slowly, his expression cautious. “I understand. And I want you to know everything before you make any decisions anyway. So, tonight, let’s keep it light and easy?”
I tag my wine glass as I sit back in my chair. “Okay, but can I ask what I was going to ask?”
He tenses a bit before he says, “Fire away.”
“How did you know mac and cheese was my go-to comfort food?” I’m dying to know.
What I don’t expect is to see him roar with laughter. “Oh, please. In the months since I found out Cass is my sister, I’ve dropped by your office how many times? Have you counted how often Cass has pleaded with me to pick up food for everyone? More often than not, you want pasta with cheese.”
Somehow, him noticing such a simple thing about me warms me more than the wine. “Then we shouldn’t let such an incredible example of it go to waste,” I answer quietly.
Keene leans over, topping off my wine and then his own. “Agreed. And while you’re doing that, let’s go back to that conversation we had about the difference between copyright and intellectual property when it comes to fashion, because I’m still confused.” He pauses mid pour. “Then again, this could be because I buy clothes and frankly don’t care.”
A giggle escapes me before I realize it. Suddenly, I’m in a heated debate with a man who probably couldn’t care less that Em copyrighted her own pattern of lace for her wedding gown collections. He’s intrigued that Em turns rabid when someone blatantly steals her design and that I have to issue cease and desist letters threatening lawsuits when we catch mass-market reproductions of her work.
Soon, we’ve finished dinner and more wine, and we’re lounging on the couch. The stress of the last few days takes its toll. My eyes drift shut for just a minute. The next thing I feel is Keene removing my glass from my hand. I murmur a quiet “Thanks” before snuggling up against the soft satin of my pajama sleeve.
He sighs deeply, and then his finger runs along my cheek where my hair rests. Somewhere in the depths of my subconscious, I think I hear him whisper, “This was how it was supposed to be that first night, Alison. You warm and sleepy, and me enjoying this peace with you.”
He slides off the couch and lifts me in his arms.
I murmur sleepily, “Keene.” Just his name.
He kisses my forehead. “Go back to sleep, baby. Tomorrow will be here soon.”
I’m so exhausted, I don’t remember him carrying me into the bedroom and tucking me into the bed, and I don’t remember saying something in my sleep that changes things irrevocably between us.
* * *
The sunlight streamingthrough the windows of the hotel bedroom tells me the storm has passed. The storm inside my head has also subsided, despite not being quite certain of how I ended up wrapped in the luxurious sheets of my hotel bed. I realize I feel better than I have in weeks.
Maybe a timeout was what I needed.
Maybe a reset with Keene was what I needed as well.
I begin to wonder how my clothes faired at the hotel’s laundry. Stretching, I realize I need a good run. I need to put the last few days into perspective.
As I stretch, my leg brushes against a long masculine one in the bed next to me. I freeze. My lips part. A wheezing sound chokes out. I slam my arms down so I can see them. I’m relieved to find I have clothes on, but that doesn’t mean shit.
Keene props himself up on an elbow while I continue to panic. “If you’re trying to remember if we slept together, the answer is no, Alison. Trust me, the next time we do, you’ll remember it.” Keene’s handsome face fills my vision. He’s smiling. The hand he’s not resting on reaches up to brush a lock of hair out of my face.
“What are you doing?” I whisper. What happened? I’m afraid I’m caught between a nightmare and a dream. I haven’t figured out which.
