Page 23 of Captivating Mr. Second Chance

“Lane,” he said, waiting until she flicked her eyes to him. “I—”

Her phone buzzed, and they both looked at it on the counter. She brushed past him, their forearms grazing as she picked it up. “Hello?”

He couldn’t hear who was on the other end, but from the momentary crimp in her brow, maybe she wasn’t sure either.

“Oh yes. Hi, George,” she said, smiling at nothing as she spun away from Ethan as if to hide the conversation. He didn’t know who George was, but he didn’t like him. “Oh, really?” she asked with a laugh. “No, that’s okay. I don’t mind. My father has been known to give my number out to lots of people. How can I help you?”

Ethan mumbled a curse in frustration. She was willing to help out this George guy, but not him? The guy she’d known since high school?

“Oh.” Laney’s voice flitted higher, and she played with her ponytail. “Um, I guess that’s okay.” Ethan got a funny feeling about this phone call, especially when she said, “This Friday? That sounds good.”

He placed his hand on his neck. It was hot, and he blew out a breath.

“No, that’s all right. We can meet there. Seven o’clock? Sure.”

Ethan really didn’t like the sound of that. He’d been about to bring up his and Laney’s sordid so-called past when this George person had apparently called to make plans with Laney. Perfect timing.

“Okay. See you later,” she said and signed off, dropping her cell phone to her side.

“Who was that?” Ethan’s question came out more hostile than he meant it to.

She rigidly turned on her heel, cocking her head to the side. “Someone who works with my dad. We’re… He’s taking me out.”

“On a date?” Ethan ran both of his hands through his hair a few times, this whole situation like déjà vu. “I thought that…” His sentence broke on a mirthless laugh, his hands on his hips.

“What?” She crossed her arms, glaring when he didn’t answer. “What, Ethan?”

“This,” he said, giving her what she wanted. “It feels exactly like it did back then.”

“I don’t…” She shook her head, and he could see her throat working on a swallow. “What are you talking about?”

“You and me.”

“You and me?” she echoed almost incredulously, which was nonsensical because not even five minutes ago, she was telling him she couldn’t work with himbecauseof their past.

“Yeah.” He lowered his voice, once again invading her space. He knew he should have waited for an invitation, but the way her pupils dilated and her chest rose and fell at a quicker pace was invitation enough. “You and me.”

“What about you and me?” She released her arms from their stiff hold to immediately backtrack, holding her hands up. “Never mind.”

“No, not never mind. You wanted to know what I’m thinking, so let’s get it out there.” He lifted his chin in a challenge because Delaney Hargrove never backed down from a challenge.

“Fine.” She stood taller. “Let’s hear it, then.”

He let out an audible breath. “Lane, you had to have known how I felt about you then.”

She huffed. “Need I remind you, you were the one to leave?”

“Jesus, Laney, you…you were the ‘it girl,’ everybody loved you. You had so many friends, guys fell at your feet.” He threw his hands out to her cell phone as if to prove his point. “They still do. And I was no one. I felt like—” he peered off into the distance of ten years ago “—I felt like I didn’t deserve you. You had everything and everyone at your fingertips.”

She flinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No.” He grabbed her hands. “I don’t mean that in a negative way. Everyone loved you because you had an energy around you. You were sweet and smiling and never made anyone feel like they weren’t the center of your world when you talked to them. At least, that’s how you made me feel.”

She closed her eyes at that last bit and twisted out of his light grasp, but he went on, undeterred. “I sat back all those months, waiting, hoping for something to happen. I wasted time, thinking the differences between us mattered. I thought there was no way you’d want me, a band nerd.”

A strangled laugh escaped her mouth, and when she finally looked up at him with what appeared to be regret crisscrossing her familiar features, he had to tell her everything. She had to know. “When I finally had my chance, the timing wasn’t right, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.” He reached for her again, this time to skim his knuckle down her cheek. “I hated how we left things. I hated that every time I came home from college, I never saw you. I hated that when I went to your house, you conveniently weren’t there.”

“Don’t make me cry,” she whispered, the space between her eyebrows pinching. “You know I hate to cry.”

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