What if I can’t?
I tensed. He must’ve seen something in my features he didn’t like because in the next moment, his smile fell away and he lowered the privacy window.
“Okay,” he said, removing my hand from the control panel and entwining our fingers. “We can drive around, if you want.”
I nodded.
Dan gave me one more long look, like he was trying to read my thoughts.
He turned to Stan. “Drive around.”
“Drive around? Here?”
“Yeah. Here.”
“But it’s rush hour,” Stan grumbled, flipping on his blinker again.
“What? You got someplace to be? Your landlady waiting for you to round out a pinochle foursome?”
Stan’s eyes flickered to me, then back to the road, saying nothing.
“Dan,” I chided, shaking my head at him.
“Yes?” He looked at me, his tone infinitely gentle.
I leaned close, whispering, “Don’t get mad at Stan. It’s not his fault I need a minute. He’s right. It is rush hour. And I guess he should probably just take us to your place so we can talk and he can get home.” I turned to Stan, lifting my voice so he could hear. “I’m sorry, Stan. Please take us to the East Randolph Street property.”
Which brings us back to now and Stan looking at us, squinting at our reflections in the rearview mirror, and then away, equal parts nervous and confused.
I’d attributed this to how we’d been behaving since we left the Clerk's office. But then Dan leaned to the side, drawing my attention back to him.
“Kit-Kat, I’m not mad.” His tone was both soothing and teasing, and he lifted his chin toward Stan. “He really does play pinochle with his landlady on Fridays.” Dan rubbed his thumb back and forth over the back of my hand and gave me a lop-sided smile.
“Stan plays pinochle?”
“It’s true,” Stan confirmed, meeting my gaze briefly in the rearview mirror. “I dig it.”
“Oh.” I sat back, unsure what to say, so I went with my default. “I’m so sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” I felt Dan’s eyes on me, watchful. He bent to my ear, whispering, “What’s wrong?”
I swallowed once, fighting a tingling shiver caused by his hot breath falling over the sensitive skin of my neck.
I lifted my eyes to his as he drew away. “It’s just, clearly I have trouble reading you. I’m sorry. I thought you were—”
“Giving him a hard time?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. It’s no big deal.”
He considered me for a few seconds. Actually, we considered each other. And as we did this, I was left with the impression that Dan the Security Man really, really liked looking at me. And that made my blush increase by tenfold, my neck and cheeks hot with both pleasure and self-consciousness.
His voice low, just above a whisper, his eyes smoldering anew, Dan said, “Maybe it’s about time you and I get to know each other better.”
I nodded, trying to smile. “I have a bad habit of assuming the worst, I think.”
His gaze moved to my hair and he threaded his fingers into the strands at my temple, pushing it away from my face. Dan released a soft breath, almost like a contented sigh.
“Come here.” His fingers now on my neck tugged me forward and he pressed my cheek against his chest, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and holding me close to his side. “You think. I’ll be quiet.”
I tried to look at him. Due to the angle at which he held me, I could only see his chin, but I was unwilling to move or readjust myself. Instead, I grabbed his lapel and leaned against him.
It was nice.
It was better than nice.
It was amazing.
He—his body, his warmth, his strength—felt amazing. Plus, he smelled great.
And I couldn’t believe I was leaning against him voluntarily. More precisely, I couldn’t believe I was allowing myself to be held.
Searching my brain, I sought to recall the last time I’d been embraced, the last time I’d allowed it to happen without overthinking and forcing myself to relax. Or, the last time I hadn’t automatically stiffened and felt suffocated.
When he’d greeted me prior to lunch the day before.
And knit night.
The ladies always hugged each other. I’d hugged Sandra last week as part of a group embrace. A few weeks before that, Sandra and I had cuddled under a blanket on Elizabeth’s couch. Sandra loved to cuddle and her enjoyment of it had rubbed off on me over the years, but only with them.
I only enjoyed cuddling with my friends.
My boss had initiated a hug last winter break. After giving me an effusive speech about how valuable I was and handing over my bonus check, she’d hugged me and I’d turned into a statue. When she’d backed off and apologized, I made some excuse about having menstrual cramps, heartburn, gas, and diarrhea. That’s right, all four.