I look left and right down each side of the road. Nobody. Perhaps they started walking? There’s no way they just left, not with what I promised. It’s not until I keep turning that I see a plume of breath come off the wall behind me. My nerves kick up, and I’m immediately thinking about what combination of punches and kicks Mac from the gym would recommend at a moment like this.Jab, cross, hook, rear knee? Or maybe a rear spiking elbow and run?
“You looking for someone, Pixie?”
My nerves settle instantly.Henry.
“Oh, look, you’ve finally taken to lurking in dark alleys. I see that you’re fully committed to the disgruntled perv I always knew you could be, Hanky.”
“That was mean, G,” Henry says as he pushes off the wall and walks closer. I forget myself for a moment and take him in. So much bigger than me, he fills out his parka nicely, and his scruff is perfectly manicured. “Mean, even for you.”
He looks like the best kind of sexy man, the one that isn’t trying. He just is. He takes care of himself; there’s a level of perfectionism in his personality, maybe a bit of the Air Force that will never quite leave him. Whatever it is, it has me flustered. As usual. Nine years, and still, a moment alone with him has me overheated in the dead of winter.
“You and Ev didn’t drink enough? You started this afternoon.” He nods to the bottle and lemon in my hands. “Needed a full bottle as a roadie?”
“First of all, why are you keeping tabs? Second, not like it’s your business, but my night isn’t over yet. Adults tend to do things at night, but I understand how senior citizen status might keep you thinking that evenings end at sundown.” I flick my wrists for him to go. “Run along. I’m sure there’s something boring you’re missing out on.”
“You sure about that?” he chides, a smile spreading across his face. It immediately pisses me off and takes all my willpower not to smile back. When that man smiles at me, I’m a fucking goner. When it reaches the corners of his eyes and his resting bastard face is long gone, that’s when he’s most dangerous.
“Sure about what?” I scoff at him. “What did you do?” I grind my teeth together. “Did you just clit-block me?”
“If you’re talking about the Harry and Lloyd look-alikes that were practically dry humping each other out here not five minutes before you came outside, then yes. I told them they can head to their place and that I’d make sure you got there safely.”
“Un-fucking-believable.”
Gah! And why does he smell so good? The cold should have frozen my nose hairs by now. I’m annoyed I can smell him.
“I don’t mess with your sex life. Stay the hell out of mine, Henry!” I need to get away from him before I do something aggressive like tell him to never speak to me again. I turn around to avoid any more interaction. The frustration is making me shiver. It’s not the cold any longer; it’s the adrenaline from a missed sex opportunity and the star of so many fantasies being the cause.
I pull the collar of my coat higher. “And while you’re at it…” I turn around to continue my tirade, but I smack right into Henry’s coat-clad chest. “Fucking hell, back off, you big lug.”
“Can’t do that, Pixie.”
“Oh yes, you can. You have no say on who I choose to play with.” I reach out and run my hands along the front of his jacket. “Or are you still sulking about never having your turn to play with me?” I pout, pushing out my bottom lip and looking up into his two-toned eyes. One blue and green, the other the color of the morning grass. I’m met with calm. The way he’s looking at me isn’t passionate or angry, but far worse. A stillness that’s laced with unspoken truths that I’m far too much of a coward and cynic ever to slow down and hear. Immediately, I’m cloaked in regret. The proximity. The words. The feelings.
“I’m not sulking. Just waiting,” he says softly.
It shakes me. Quiet words from this man are something I’m not equipped to handle. Combative and growly are much easier to navigate. I can word-spar with him all day, and none of it hits my soft spots, but when he speaks quietly, it calls attention to the idea that we shed our armor and have an honest moment alone.
“Waiting for what?”
“Not what. Who.”
I flinch. I’m not sober or drunk enough to have this conversation. Why do this here? Why now? But those are questions I can’t ask. I’m not able to hear the answer if I’m reading his body language right. The confident stance, leaning just a fraction toward me, keeping my eyes locked with his, and his breathing is even. Like what he’s saying is just matter-of-fact and not against years’ worth of hardworking avoidance.
“Your aunt coming to town for the wedding?” he asks, cutting the serious conversation away and moving on to something I can navigate.
“She’s supposed to be here,” I tell him. Bea stops in to see me every six months now. Less frequent in-person visits, more consistent with texts and virtual check-ins.
“Make sure she comes to dinner at my dad’s place the night before. I’m planning to do ribs.”
“Sounds gross to me, but I bet she’d be thrilled to eat whatever you’re cooking.”
I move down the sidewalk to my shop and loft. This is when I need to remember that being enemies is safer. Stop thinking about his specially curated meals and instead focus on the way he just ruined a sexual bucket list moment for me.
I know by the lack of crunching snow and the stillness of the night around me that he’s watching me walk away. “Stop staring at my ass, Hanky. She only likes to be gawked at when a swift slap or grab is guaranteed to follow.” I yell a bit louder as I move farther away. “And we have a strict hands-off policy. Remember?” I sing-song.
“I can’t seem to forget, Pixie.”
He’s making sure I get home safely, and that part of Henry is the most dangerous. The one that cares. Where he looks out for me, making sure I’m okay. I don’t dare turn around again.