Page 27 of Captivating Mr. Second Chance

George shifted forward in his chair, helping himself to a piece of pita and scooping up a bit of roasted red pepper hummus before holding it out to Laney. She hesitated, momentarily confused at what was going on, but he held it up higher, waiting for her to open her mouth to him.

That wasn’t happening. Instead, she took it out of his hand and popped it into her mouth, pretending it wasn’t the most awkward moment in all of dating history.

“Good,” she mumbled around the mouthful.

It wasn’t until the entrees arrived that George asked her about why she was back home in West Chester. Rather than explain anything to him, she babbled on and on about god knows what until his eyes practically rolled to the back of his head in boredom.

“Would you like to go somewhere for a cocktail?” he asked when the check arrived.

“Thank you, but no. I have an early morning tomorrow.” She hoped he couldn’t see through the lie. She only wanted the torture to end, and she gathered her purse and coat before standing. “Thank you for dinner.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He walked her to her car, where he hovered close. When she started to say goodbye, he cut her off with his hand on hers.

“How about a goodnight kiss?”

She appreciated that he asked, and with her friends’ advice still in her ears, she nodded, giving the whole night one last chance.

The kiss wasn’t bad, except that she could taste the faint flavor of garlic on his lips, and her mind wandered to her stuffed chicken entrée and how good it was. When George moved his hands to her hair, she realized her brain and mouth were on two different wavelengths.

She was kissing the man as an automatic response and stepped away from him to prevent it from going any further. “Thanks for dinner.”

“I’ll call you,” he told her as she shut her car door, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be following through on that promise. The conversation had been stilted, the kiss was weird at best, and Laney was totally out of her depth when it came to dating.

Arriving back at Dean’s house, she plodded inside to find the living room empty except for Ethan, who was sprawled out on the couch. A few empty bottles of Yuengling sat on the coffee table.

“Where is everybody?” She tossed her coat and purse on the nearby chair and slipped out of her shoes before she noticed him studying her.

“Hank left a while ago, and your brother—” he glanced at his watch “—went upstairs about fifteen minutes ago. Has yet to come back down, so I suspect he’s passed out.”

Dean had been pulling long hours at work, and most likely, it had finally caught up to him.

“Where were you tonight?” Ethan asked, dragging his gaze up from her legs to her eyes. His stare warmed her.

“I had that date.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot.” Although his deadpan face told her otherwise. “How was it?”

She sank down on the arm of the sofa next to his feet. “Terrible.”

His eyebrows narrowed in question.

She flapped her hand near her temple. “The date was fine. He was fine. I was terrible.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it.” She relaxed against the cushion, watching people run around on what looked to be a spaceship on TV. “I went on and on about this cheerleading documentary and how there are no professional jobs for collegiate cheerleaders after college, except for, like, Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders, and then that led into me talking about the one time I went to Texas and got food poisoning. I spent the weekend in the hotel room, watchingReal Housewives, and I remembered the episode with the fight between LeeAnne and Tiffany, which ended with LeeAnne running into traffic like she was inFroggeror something. It was crazy.”

Ethan picked up his head, regarding her with wide, mocking eyes. “Crazy.”

She tried to give him a smile, but she was tired, over it, and ready for bed.

“Hey.” He sat up. “What’s wrong?” When she didn’t answer, he scooted closer to her, grazing the side of her knee with his finger. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

He was so earnest that long-ago memories once again bubbled to the surface. Someone somewhere once said the person you were in school shaped the person you grew to be, and in school, Laney was the girl who’d been in love with her brother’s best friend. She was a girl who learned even the nicest of guys could break your heart.

Yet, here she was, facing those first inklings of possibility again, like she had ten years ago. The thing was, that same girl was even more afraid now. Even more broken. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to show Ethan those pieces of herself.

9

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