Page 60 of Taming Tesla
Stopping on the sidewalk, I pull her out of the flow of foot traffic, taking her hands in mine. “I hope she says yes,” I say, lifting her hands to my mouth I breathe on them before rubbing them between my own. It’s something I’ve done for her a thousand times, but it feels different now. Everything between us feels different. Heavier somehow.
I know she feels it too because as soon as I lift her hands to my mouth, she flushes, bright red spreading up her neck from under the collar of her shirt, making me wonder what color her birthmark is. “I have a few vacant properties that would be perfect—” I take her hands and tuck them into her coat pockets and start walking again. “you can even rent the old place if you want. It’s got a room with a window seat and built-in bookshelves that would be perfect for a kid.” I don’t mention that I built it with other things in mind.
“So, how’d you do it?” she says, walking along beside me. “Make the apartment—”
“Into Hermione’s bag?”
She laughs. “Yes.”
I shrug, trying to buy myself some time. What can I say?
When you left, I went completely batshit and started tearing down walls because I couldn’t be in a place where I’d touched you without wanting to destroy something.
“I got my hands on some old blueprints of the bar and realized that the space was nearly four times bigger than the apartment my granddad built.” I bump my shoulder into her and grin. “Not that big a deal.”
“Really?” she says, sneaking a look at me. “I guess it wouldn’t be—not for Boston’s Best Catch.”
“Oh, Christ.” I groan, instantly mortified. “Did Con tell you?”
“No,” she says, enjoying my obvious discomfort. “I caught your spread on the plane and then my stewardess told me she met you, and all about your wild night of unbridled passion.”
“What?” I stop walking, her words rooting me in place. “She said we—no…” I’m shaking my head. “I never—” she’s stopped in front of me, laughing, waiting for me to catch up. “Oh.” I let out a long breath. “Fucking Conner.”
“Yes—fucking Conner.” She’s still laughing, pressing her hand to her stomach like it hurts her. “Literally. I mean seriously? What are the odds?”
“That you randomly met a woman that Conner had sex with?” I look at her like she’s crazy. “Pretty good, actually—but it must’ve been a while ago,” I say. “Con’s off women these days.”
She looks at me like I just told her my cousin is an alien from another planet. “Off women?” she says. “As in… celibate?”
“As in,” I confirm with a laugh.
“The hell you say!” She laughs. “What prompted that?”
“He’s going through some stuff.” I shrug. “It’ll sort itself out eventually.” I hope.
She stops laughing and offers me a soft smile. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty great. The magazine article, I mean.”
“I didn’t even want to do it,” I tell her and it’s true. I didn’t want to do it. When the magazine reached out, I told them no. But then… “But Declan pointed out how much good it could do. For Boston Batters. The reading program at the library. Gilroy’s and our business.” I chewed on my lower lip, trying not to look at her. “For you.” Especially you. It’d been Declan’s ace in the hole. Tell them that you won’t do it unless they mention Cari’s show. Can you imagine the kind of turn out the charity event will get if it gets a mention in a publication as big as Bostonian?
She stops, waiting for the crosswalk to turn. “Me?” she says, looking up at me.
“You.” I give her a lopsided grin, hoping I look more casual than I feel. I shrug again. “I mean, if I’m going to pimp myself out, some good should come out of it other than my manwhore of a cousin getting laid and an upswing in bar business.”
We cross the street, approaching the bar from the front. “I have something to show you,” I tell her, steering her around the corner, along the side of the building while fishing my keys out of my pocket. There, set in the wall is a heavy metal security door, complete with intercom and mail slot. “It leads up into the laundry room, behind the kitchen,” I tell her, fitting my key into the lock. “This way, we don’t have to tromp through the bar with groceries—”
We. I realize what I said a second after it comes out of my mouth and I stop, key waiting to be twisted in the lock.
Shit.
I open it for her, risking a quick glance her way. Her cheeks are flushed, and I’d bet her birthmark is as red as a cherry under her thermal.
She caught what I said.
So much for playing it cool.
I pull the door shut behind us, letting the auto-lock catch before leading her down the short hallway leading to a second set of stairs. “I should probably get back to work.” I shove my hands into my pockets because I don’t know what to do with them.
She turns to look at me. “You’re not coming up?”
