Eye Contact Page 17

  Rowan would love it.

  “Richard, listen, I’m sure she’ll like anything you pick out for her. If you’re close enough to propose marriage, you should know her well enough to know her tastes.”

  “I know, and I do…I think. I just wanted your opinion, and maybe your help.”

  “My help with what, exactly?”

  “Well, more so your advice.” For a lawyer, he sure was nervous. I hoped he was more confident when he appeared in court. “I’m wondering about her father.”

  “What about him?”

  “I’ve never met them—her parents—and here I am about to ask her to marry me. Should I ask for her hand, like a traditional gesture of respect? Or should I leave well enough alone?”

  I wanted to give Richard relationship advice about as much as I wanted to be accidently stuck with a needle through my glove during surgery.

  “Have you and Rowan even talked about marriage? What has she told you about her parents?”

  “Not much really, just that her mother used to be involved in local politics so she knows some of the same people in my circle. She hasn’t really told me anything about her dad. I know they’re divorced, but that’s it.” He looked hurt by the realization that he didn’t have any more information. “I’m starting to think she’s embarrassed by me or something.”

  “I’m sure she’s not embarrassed.” Maybe she was a little—I had no idea.

  “So, do I risk offending them by not asking or risk offending my soon-to-be fiancée by going behind her back?”

  “I honestly don’t know what to tell you to do in this situation. I would actually advise you to talk to Rowan about it.”

  “How would I do that? I want it to be a surprise.”

  I wanted so badly to shout that it already wasn’t a surprise and she’d already found the ring, but I couldn’t shatter his heart like that, and I certainly couldn’t violate Rowan’s trust.

  “Don’t come out and tell her you’re planning to propose, just beat around the bush. Bring up marriage and ask how she feels about it and you. Ask her about when she could see herself being ready for that kind of step and drop in the question about asking her parents for her hand.”

  He looked at me with hope in his eyes and nodded enthusiastically. “Or…I could invite her parents over for dinner or something and propose to her then, with all of them there to share the moment with us.”

  “No. Hard pass. Big fat veto on that plan. If I know anything about Rowan, it’s that she would not appreciate something like that. She wouldn’t want a public proposal and definitely wouldn’t want to be blindsided by her parents coming over without her knowledge.”

  “Oh. Okay. So no dinner party then.”

  “You have to keep in mind that her parents don’t get along—like, at all. You’re going to have to approach them separately and carefully.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He put the ring box back into his pocket and directed his attention back to me. “Thank you, Andie. This has been very helpful.”

  “Uh, okay. Yeah, I guess. Glad I could help.”

  “I trust you’ll keep this little discussion to yourself?”

  I looked at him with an expression that said duh and reassured him with, “Of course.”

  Richard exited in the same direction from which we had come and I bee-lined it the other way. I didn’t want any of our colleagues to see us together and get the wrong idea, or worse, mention it to Rowan. My freaking stomach hurt already and I was barely half an hour into my shift.

  Luckily, the remainder of my duty was uneventful with me attending to a few fractures and other minor injuries. It was boring, in fact. I stayed in my call room for the most part, not wanting to be forced into any insincere socialization to placate my co-workers. It wasn’t so bad. There was a modest nineteen-inch television mounted to the wall, and the hospital had a decent cable package. I preferred to use my laptop to stream movies or binge-watch series I didn’t have time to keep up with on a normal basis, and I read. Sometimes I read medical articles and journals to stay up to date on all the most recent developments in my field, which was ever changing and improving, but occasionally, I enjoyed fiction.

  For whatever reason, I decided to download a romance novel on a whim. I went to Amazon, looked at the top twenty list for contemporary romances, and one-clicked a recent release with a hot, shirtless, muscled guy on the cover and a ton of positive reviews. I didn’t even read the blurb.

  Before I realized, it was hours later and I was already more than halfway through the novel. I couldn’t put it down and was only momentarily distracted by the sound of my rumbling stomach. I was hungry and quickly finished the chapter I was on to get to a stopping point so I could eat something.

  The remainder of the shift flew by and I finished the novel. Wouldn’t you know it, the story was a second-chance romance. It was filled with an underlying theme of destiny and fate and redemption leading to the couple finally finding happiness together. It was also pretty hot. The racy love scenes definitely did their job of getting me hot and bothered, and I wondered why I didn’t read that type of book more often.

  It was impossible to not think of Vaughn while reading the book, though it wasn’t like our story exactly paralleled the fictional couple. We hadn’t been in love once before only to drift apart and find each other again. We had been just kids—kids who didn’t even know each other’s names and had a chance encounter. I happened to be there for him in his time of need, but it could’ve just as easily been someone else. Mr. Zapcic could’ve walked out to check his mail and seen that he was hurt. Mrs. Burke could’ve been walking her yappy little Maltese Poodle and come upon the injured boy. It wasn’t some fateful arrangement destined in the stars that chose me to help him. I just couldn’t buy into any of that stuff.

  But, it had been me, and he had been affected—so much so that it had burdened him for twenty plus years. He’d drawn and painted the same set of eyes for all that time, looking everywhere he could for them to meet him in person again. And, for whatever reason, they had. When I imagined what that would have been like for me, had I been in that position, it was a tortuous thought. I had a photographic memory, remembered everything I saw, which was both a blessing and a curse. To not be able to remember an entire face of my savior—it would have been maddening.

  I liked Vaughn, a lot. I shouldn’t have allowed the peculiarity of our reunion to scare me away from a potentially great thing. He was fun and he made me laugh. No one had ever been able to make me feel so relaxed one second and filled with butterflies the next. He was kind and intriguing, and good grief was he attractive. I couldn’t help the reaction my body had to him being close. Every touch, although innocent, set me on fire, and I felt like a hormone-crazed teenager having to tamp down my desires.

  The ‘right’ answer wasn’t making itself clear, as per usual when it came to Vaughn Bennett. I had to go with my gut, and I just hoped following my heart wouldn’t end up eventually breaking it.

  Chapter 28

  Vaughn

  Being right in the midst of shaping a prosthesis with the circular sander, I didn’t hear the knock on the door on account of the machine’s noise. Apparently, Angela did hear it, because although I was concentrating heavily on what I was doing, I suddenly got the feeling that someone was standing over me. I paused the sander, switching the safety on, and removed my facemask and eye protection. When I looked up to see Andie standing before me, my heart skipped a beat.

  “Andie. Hey! Uh, let me come out fr—”

  “No, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She was still dressed in scrubs with her hair pulled back, messy and tousled. She was gorgeous.

  “Please, it’s a welcome interruption,” I implored while moving out from behind the work station. I was covered in tiny particles of dust and debris and attempted to brush as much off my chest and forearms as I could. “Did you just get off?”

  “Yes. I guess I should’ve called. I just
really needed to talk to you.”

  I glanced up to see Angela across the room, trying to appear busy but sneaking looks at us every few seconds.

  “Let’s… Can we go into my room…for some more privacy?”

  “Okay,” she responded timidly, unsure and hesitant. I walked into my bedroom pretty briskly, using only one crutch, and she followed after me. I gently closed the door behind her and spun around to see her pacing nervously in the center of the room.

  “Let me change out of this dusty shirt,” I suggested, grabbing a t-shirt from a pile of clean clothes in a laundry basket on the floor. I walked into the bathroom and shed the work shirt to replace it with the old concert tee. I reentered the room and could feel the sweatiness on my palms as my hand slid over the hold of my crutch.

  “I’m glad you came over. I’ve been thinking about you and hating how we left things.”

  “Me too. I’m so sorry, Vaughn.” Her apology caught me off guard.

  “You’re sorry?” I interjected. “Why?”

  She took a step closer and looked at me head on, her expression demanding my full attention, as if I could possibly direct it anywhere else. When she was in the room, she was all I could see.

  “I’m sorry for freaking out. I was scared and insensitive.”

  “Andie, it’s okay. It was weird. I get why you freaked.” She grinned slightly. “It’s got to be just about the strangest first date ever.”

  “But until I walked into your studio and was hit with the past like a freight train…well, it was the best first date.” My brows rose at her admission, and then I was the one smiling. “I really like you Vaughn,” she confessed on an exhalation, biting her bottom lip in an effort to stop herself from saying too much.

  “I like you too.” I inched a little closer, albeit not gracefully due to my unbalanced limp and one arm being occupied with holding a crutch. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and closed the rest of the gap between us, reluctantly positioning herself right in front of me.

  “Can we… Do you think… I really want this to not be awkward between us.” Her eyes were pleading and sparkled in the natural light my bedroom window was letting in. “Will you go on a second da—”

  A wave of decisive confidence came over me, laced with joy and fevered urgency. I couldn’t wait another moment to kiss her, so I did. I rushed in, interrupting her midsentence, and claimed her mouth with mine. Her full lips were hard at first, surprised by my sudden advance, but softened a few seconds later. Allowing my mouth to linger, seeking permission, I felt her lips part a little, reassuring me. I reached my hand up and embraced her tighter, lacing my fingers into the hair at her nape. She bent to my touch and our bodies shifted even closer. Deepening our connection, we explored each other as she returned my kiss with reckless abandon. Her tongue danced with mine and I felt the vibration of a soft moan come from her wet, heated mouth. The blood pounding in my brain and the thumping of my heart in my chest were intense, and I had to pull myself away before I lost all control.

  The moment my mouth withdrew and her eyes opened lazily to look at mine, I was gone. When she leaned forward to place a soft kiss to my lips, I was completely done. This girl would be the end of me.

  “My God.”

  It was all I could say.

  “Yeah.”

  “You…were saying?”

  “What?” she asked, lost to all rational thought, just as I was.

  “Before….I interrupted you.”

  “Oh, right. I don’t remember.”

  She smiled, embarrassed, and I couldn’t not kiss her again. I cupped her face and my mouth descended onto hers again, her body melting into my touch. I felt her hands come around my lower back, setting my skin on fire as I savagely kissed her. Hungrier than before, she matched my effort and succumbed to my every move.

  This was what a kiss was supposed to be.

  She was perfect. We were perfect.

  She was the one to pull away that time, breaking the kiss and stepping back a few inches. Her face was flushed the cutest shade of pink, and all I could think was that I wanted to see that blush all over her body.

  “We should stop,” she said quietly, slightly out of breath.

  “Sorry.”

  “No, that was… I liked that…very much.” Her hand rose and her fingers touched her bottom lip, like she could still feel the tingle of me there.

  “Me too.”

  “A second date,” she blurted out, and my expression was puzzled. “That’s what I was asking before…before you interrupted.” She smiled bashfully. “Will you go on a second date with me?”

  “There’s nothing in the world that could make me say no to a second date with you, Andie—and a third date…and a fourth and fifth.”

  She laughed.

  “Can we go now?” I asked in jest.

  “No,” she quickly responded, rejecting me. “I’m a mess. I just got off work and I should probably sleep, and shower.” All I could look at were her swollen lips, and my mind hummed with the awareness that I’d caused that.

  “Tonight then? When you wake up?”

  Chuckling at my eagerness, she agreed. “I’ll call you when I wake up.”

  She led the way out of my room and I followed her into the shop, watching her saunter away from me. Excitement coursed through my veins, both for what had just happened and for the realization that we were okay. We were going to be okay. She changed course to approach Angela, who was seated at the desk in the corner, crouched behind her computer screen. I could barely hear her but based on her right hand reaching out, I surmised that she was introducing herself properly, and it made me happy that she felt enough for me to want my assistant to know her. In the little time I’d known adult Andie, I’d learned she was extremely introverted, and I knew how difficult it was for her to initiate conversation with anyone.

  The door opened and she paused, looking back at me over her shoulder with a shy smile before leaving.

  “Do you have any Tums? I just threw up in my mouth,” Angela muttered.

  “Oh shut up. No amount of your snarkiness could ruin this moment for me.”

  Chapter 29

  Andie

  Trying to get any sleep was pointless. Despite my body being exhausted, my mind still raced with thoughts of our first kiss, and catching up on any lost sleep was a futile effort. It was like a runner’s high. I was drunk on all things Vaughn Bennett, and I didn’t want the buzz to end. The way he looked at me, both hungry and tender, was like nothing I’d experienced before, short of watching fictional depictions in romance movies. His touch—when he embraced me like he couldn’t stand another second of not touching me—it was invigorating. I was feeling the rush of free-falling, and I was in no hurry for the sensation to subside.

  Still, as I lay there analyzing the moment, my insecurity and inexperience crept into my thoughts. Details were my thing. I came, saw, experienced, memorized, and then later analyzed every detail of my life—except this particular experience was different. I typically didn’t have to deal with any accompanying emotions, being able to detach myself somehow. This, though—it was all emotion and very little logic.

  Had I been okay? As far as the kiss? He’d seemed pleased with my response, even going in for more, so I supposed my performance had been acceptable. It had certainly felt new for me. I was no virgin, having been with a few men in medical school and a couple more since graduating, but it was never anything more than relieving some pent-up frustration or satisfying the need to scratch the itch. I didn’t care for any of the guys, and the arrangement was mutual. That was the way I had always preferred it, not wanting to spend any time on a real relationship that would only distract me from my goals and end up letting me down in the end. All the men who participated in my no-strings-attached proposals were not only in agreement but jumped at the chance to occasionally get their needs taken care of without having to pretend to like me. I was attractive enough and was able to clumsily muddle through the first
few times until I got the hang of what men liked. It was okay for me too, and I got…relief most of the time.

  But…Vaughn. He was different, new, exciting. I cared what he thought. Kissing him was tortuous and dizzying in the best way. It was impossible for me to not be completely lost in the moment.

  I’d never been lost before, not in any moment of anything.

  It was intoxicating.

  Although, with every journey up, there is a journey down. The foreign feeling of being on cloud nine was sure to dissipate at some point. I wanted to fall in love, not fall to despair. I wanted to dive in headfirst and follow my heart for once in my life, but the fear of failure and hurt was debilitating at times.

  I finally threw myself out of bed and took a shower, washing away as much doubt as I could. It seemed I did some of my most brilliant thinking while in the shower, and this time was no exception. I exfoliated, lathered, and rinsed away the negative pessimism then got out refreshed. If Vaughn and I were not able to work as a couple, it wouldn’t be due to my lack of trying to give it my best shot. I refused to allow my apprehension to cripple my chances of being happy. Being content was no longer enough. I wanted to be happy and fulfilled in every aspect of my life, including love.

  Once I had decided on something casual but cute to wear and blow-dried my hair into some semblance of being presentable, I called him.

  “It’s about time,” he said, sighing into the phone after two rings.

  “Hello to you too,” I joked.

  We chatted for a few minutes and decided to try out something a little different for our second date. Since he was still in his boot and unable to drive, I picked him up, refusing to come inside when I arrived. I didn’t want our plans to get derailed. It was important to me to not jump into the physical side of things and end up neglecting the mental and emotional connection I craved. He understood without any explanation needed and came right out when I pulled up.

  He greeted me with a chaste kiss on the lips and pulled away to put his seatbelt on.

  “So, how does this work?”