“Fine. You can start,” she says before wrapping her arms around her waist.
Her defiant words are a little surprising, but I’ve learned to be prepared for the unexpected with Katie. “I’ll go back to my earlier question. Why are you avoiding me?”
A grimace flashes across her face so briefly, I think I may have imagined it. “Okay, it’s because every time I’m near you, I lose all sense of what’s right.”
“What do you think is right, Katie? Because I suspect we have very different ideas.”
“What’s right? I’m not sure, but I do know what’s wrong. Every time I’m with you, I end up falling back into your arms. I feel like I lose myself in you.”
“See, I would have said that’s right. Our chemistry is explosive and impossible to ignore.” She frowns. Little creases are etched between her brows, and the corners of her mouth are drawn down. My thumb itches to smooth the lines, and I want to kiss a smile back onto her lips.
“Fine, I agree that the sexual chemistry between us is unique. But the fact is, I don’t do casual flings. Our one-night stand was my first and last. I’m just not able to separate the sex from my feelings. I need a relationship, and you don’t want one.”
“You don’t know what I want,” I respond, and the words come out more harshly than I mean to. The truth is, I don’t know what I want. What am I doing here with Katie? Am I just looking for something casual like she accuses, or do I want more?
Her head lowers. “No, I guess I don’t. Isn’t that the problem though?” she mumbles. Then she lifts her eyes back to mine. She stares at me like she’s waiting for me to say more. I don’t know what to say, and each second I let the cold silence continue, the spark in her eyes is slowly extinguished.
“Look, we’re not going to resolve anything tonight. As Jackie said, we have an early start tomorrow. I’m going to bed.” She touches me briefly on my arm, and what seconds ago felt like ice in my veins heats up again. “Good night, Drew.”
She leaves, and I lean my elbows on the bar. The bartender moves closer and asks if I want another. I nod, and when he places the tumbler of whiskey in front of me, I throw it back, gesturing for one more.
I know the answer to what I want is not at the bottom of a whiskey glass, but it sure as hell feels better thinking about it when you’re steaming drunk.
The refill arrives, and I sip on this one slowly. Through the alcoholic buzz, I replay my conversation with Katie. I’ve never been in a proper relationship, but it’s not like it was a deliberate decision. It was more the life I was leading meant I was never in one place long enough. The question is, could I commit now with Katie?
Maybe.
One thing I do know is I need to be sure before my next move, because I never want to hurt her.
Chapter twenty-three
Katie
We’reinthebeautifulcity of Edinburgh, and this afternoon’s book signing is in another independent bookshop. The difference with this one is the view from the front door up the cobbled street to Edinburgh Castle. I’ve already come outside twice to see it since we arrived nearly two hours ago. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the excitement of seeing real castles. It’s probably a carryover from my childhood when I loved dressing up as a princess.
I step back inside and walk over to join Jackie. Drew glances up and smiles when he sees me. He’s done the same thing each time I’ve come back in. I thought things would be a little awkward after our brief but intense chat last night. But it hasn’t been the case at all. I’m confused because of the way we left things. Finally telling him I’m looking for a relationship felt good. It was his lack of response that kept me up half the night. If I’m ever going to get another good night’s sleep, we need to finish the conversation. But not till after the interview tomorrow. I know he’s worried about it, and I don’t want to make things worse by confronting him over the question of us.
With his head down laughing while he signs a book, Drew looks tired but happier today than he’s been at any other stop. I’m guessing it’s because his family will be coming by later. They live not far from the city, and it’s kind of sweet that he wants them to be part of his success. I like that he has strong family ties, especially after his tough early years with his father.
The clock on the far wall tells me his family should be arriving in about fifteen minutes. I lean toward Jackie and say, “We might need to wrap things up here. Drew’s mother should be arriving soon.” The line is still about twenty people long. Today, like every other day, we’ve run over due to the number of people showing up to have their books signed. The popularity of the signings is being reflected in the sales numbers and ranking of Drew’s book. I checked late last night, and his book is edging closer to the number one spot for paperbacks on the UK bestsellers list. One more day, and we may have something big to celebrate.
Shortly after, Drew signs the last book, stands, then stretches his arms wide before walking slowly toward me. His limp is more noticeable when he sits for long periods of time.
He stops next to me and rubs his thigh, and I have to ask, “How’s the leg?” I know how much he hates anyone asking, but I’m feeling guilty for leaving him sitting for nearly two hours without a break.
He frowns. “I’ve had better days. But it’s my own fault. I might have had one too many whiskeys last night and fallen over my bag in my room.”
“What? Really? You seemed fine when I left you in the bar.”
He shakes his head. “That was the problem. Being dumped by a beautiful woman. I had to drown my sorrows or deal with a case of blue balls.” His grin when he looks back up is cheeky and sexy all rolled into one. I’m sure my heart skips a beat before racing on.
We only have two more days, then this smooth-talking temptation can go back to Cornwall, and my heart will be safe again, I tell myself. He’s much easier to handle when we’re texting.
I’m still working on a verbal response when a squat older woman comes out of nowhere, and like a heat-seeking missile, barrels straight into Drew’s body. With anoofthat turns into a laugh, Drew wraps his arms tightly around the woman who barely reaches his shoulder height. This must be his mother.
She steps back a little, but keeping her arms around him, she says, “Andrew, ye look like something the cat dragged in.” Her voice is stern, even though her grin is as broad as her son’s. I hide a smile behind my hand. Mothers always know when you’re hungover.
“And it’s good to see you too, Mum,” he jokes before they release each other.
