What You Need(87)
I snorted. “I don’t need your flattery, nor do I want it. Say whatever you’ve come to say, so I can accept your apology and we can both move on.”
Brady took my hands in his. “I don’t want to move on. I want to go back to the way things were.”
Fat chance, bud.
“I’m here to apologize for how I acted. I’m sorry I was a condescending ass. I’m sorry I accused you of things that weren’t your fault. I’m sorry you haven’t heard from me in the last week—it’s taken me this long to figure out how to apologize after my colossal fuckup. And I realized this was something I needed to do in person.”
I waited as he spoke. Didn’t petulantly jerk my hands away, but neither did I go all starry-eyed and blurt out my immediate and unconditional forgiveness. I guessed that’s what I was waiting for. For Brady to slap on excuses for what he’d said.
But he didn’t. He sat there gazing at me so longingly that I had to look away. He shifted his stance too and I caught a whiff of that druglike scent of his skin—warm musk and his cologne.
Retreat!
So I did. I removed my hands from his and grabbed my teacup. That’s when I noticed his knuckles were skinned up and scabbed over. “What happened to your hands?”
He shrugged. “I had a bad week, so I punched things.”
“Did punching things make your week better?”
“No.”
I hadn’t granted my forgiveness. It wasn’t a power thing that held me back, but Brady’s implication that we could just pick up where we’d left off.
“I didn’t know you liked sushi,” he said. Then he sighed. “Dammit. That sounded lame, didn’t it?”
“A little.”
“I’m not a huge fan of sushi myself, so it’s strange that I’ve been in this place twice in the past six weeks.”
Here was my moment of truth.
My mouth made the decision before my head or heart weighed in. “I know.”
Those blue eyes narrowed.
“See, I was here that night you came in with that jailbait-looking waif.”
“That’s actually a very apt description of her.”
“I thought you were on a date with her.”
His posture stiffened, as if to say, Please leave it at that. Don’t pry for more information.
“But it didn’t appear as if you were having a good time.”
Brady shook his head. “It was bloody awful,” he said with a hint of a brogue.
“Her accent was hard to place.”
“Wait. You talked to her? When?”
Why couldn’t I be a smooth liar? And now that I’d opened the door, I had to go all the way through it. “In the bathroom. Look. The truth is, I saw you and planned to stop at your table and say hello, if for no other reason than to see if you felt guilty for dating jailbait”—he snorted—“but I chickened out at the last second and went to the bathroom. That’s where she—” I paused.
He got right in my face. “No editorializing. Tell me. All of it.”
By the time I finished, Brady had dropped his forehead to the table as if contemplating beating his head into it.
I laughed softly.
He looked up at me. “It’s not funny. But damn, do I love to hear you laugh. I missed it . . . So the woman I’d been crushing on from the moment I saw her witnessed my humiliation that night and heard some choice bits, right from the horse’s mouth, about what an uptight ice-cold wanker I am.”
I’d sort of tuned out after his admission that he’d been crushing on me.
“That’s great, Lennox. I’m actually blushing just thinking about it.”
He was. His face was flushed and there was a look I’d seen in his eyes only once before: vulnerability.
Almost without thinking, I reached out and placed my hands on his cheeks.
He put his hands over mine and we locked eyes.
“Why did you agree to go out with me when you saw firsthand what a clumsy, clueless oaf I am when it comes to dating?”
“Because that’s not what I saw.”
He groaned. “It’s worse, isn’t it? You thought I was pathetic and you agreed to a date out of pity.”
I leaned in closer. “Brady. Shut up. If you stop trying to analyze me, I’ll tell you why I went out with you.”
“Please. I’m dying here.”
“First of all, you demanded the date. But if I hadn’t wanted to go, nothing would’ve gotten me in that car with you.” I stroked my thumbs over his cheekbones. “So what if you suck at dating? You aren’t a one-dimensional man. You excel at everything else. Do you really think I would’ve preferred if you were some asshole player? And you’ve never acted like an entitled dickhead around me. Well, except for last Friday.”