He chuckled and got to his feet. “Do you want another drink at least?”
“That’d be great.” A moment later he sat the soda in front of her. “Thank you. So what do you do for fun, Renley?”
He crooked a brow, barely resisting blurting out an inappropriate answer. “Been going to the gym a lot lately.”
“I see, one of those sports fanatics.”
“Basically. I used to play a lot of sports so I’m trying to get back into old habits.”
“Is that all you used to do?”
“Yeah, hang around with friends but that didn’t pay out well, so sports it is. You? Anything besides your fur babies?”
“I like to knit for preemies, like tiny hats and shoes. The NICU loves them. I make gowns for stillborns as well.”
“You could at least try to be less perfect,” Renley teased.
Eveline flushed, gazing down at her lap. “And you need to stop making me blush.”
“Why? I think it’s adorable.” And—apparently deciding today was the day to test boundaries—he added, “Hot, even.”
She worried that bottom lip, and he had to squeeze his soda can with the effort of not tugging it free. “You know, if you keep this up and don’t ask me out, I’ll be rather disappointed.”
“Is that so?” His whole body tingled, their surroundings blurring until all he could see washer. “I was looking at apartments all week.”
At first, she looked confused, then he saw the recognition in her eyes—he was saying that he was getting his shit together. “Find anything good?”
“A few, just waiting to hear back.”
She simply looked at him, hesitating on her next question. “I would like to ask you something, but you don’t have to answer.”
“Okay.”
“Why did you go to jail?”
He answered truthfully, knowing that he’d have to tell her sooner or later. “Got into a bar fight. Once it was over, I decided I wasn’t finished and chased after him to hit him with a glass bottle.”
Her lips formed an “O.” What he would have given to hear her thoughts in that moment. “I didn’t think you would answer that.”
“Why? Because you’re my boss?”
“Kind of.”
“I think honesty is best when it comes to the shit I did. Everyone fucks up at some point. Standing up for those mistakes lets us grow and mature.” Then he placed his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hands. “Did you go through a bad girl phase?”
“I used to tell my dad I was at a girlfriend’s house, but spent the night with my boyfriend.”
“Naughty.” The teasing had that beautiful flush crawling up her cheeks again. “Can I ask you something in return?”
“Of course.”
“Did you grow up needing a wheelchair?”
“No. Seven years ago, I fell off a ladder. I kind of got lucky, got a low spinal injury so it’s basically only my legs.”
“How long did it take for you to think like that?”
She rolled her drink in between her palms. “A year or so. I was a really active person. Not sporty like you, but I was always on the move. Being tied to my bed, and then a chair made me feel so… claustrophobic. Then I realised it could be so much worse, and I got lucky to have a sacral injury.” She lifted her eyes to his, a genuine smile warming the sadness in her eyes. “I was able to get some sensation back and that was a huge thing for me.”
