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Mr. Cunningham.
I keep making a mental note to get back to him, but my attention always seems to get drawn elsewhere.
Like right now.
I watch as Warren attempts to break free from a conversation with his mom through the sheer curtains. I can only imagine she’s giving him the rundown on what to say and how to act.
“Be nice.”
“Stop being moody.”
“You can tell her yourself.”
I nearly tripped down the stairs when I overheard her say that to him—and my surprise was only heightened when he didn’t deny the fact that he might have feelings towards me.
My legs had been trembling as I sat across from him at the dining table, foolish enough to think that he’d come outright and say it. I’m thankful I’m going to be out and about today. I need to walk off—or rather, run off this steam…the heat that he provokes between my?—
“Ready to go?” Warren cuts my thoughts short as I see him step out of the front door.
I nod eagerly, assessing how a dark flannel falls along his chest, with each button carefully fastened in place, except for the top three, where the faintest layer of skin begs to escape from behind the fabric.
Warren is the only man I know whose attempt at dressing down only makes him look that much more put together.
“Have fun, you two!” Helen flashes a generous smile in my direction, forcing me to break away from the sight of Warren as he reaches into his back pocket and slips on a pair of dark sunglasses.
He nods in response to her, walking past me and opening my car door. Standing in place for a moment, I contemplate what to do. I don’t think I’ve ever had a man open my car door for me—especially not one that looks remotely as good as he does.
I finally muster up a quiet “thanks,” placing my hand next to his on the door as I climb inside and buckle up my seatbelt.
Unconsciously, we catch each other's stare. If you had told me two months ago that the man who’d made me “try out” for my job would be taking me into the city, I would’ve never believed you.
Warren clears his throat to break the exchange, firmly closing the door behind me as he gets in on the driver’s side.
“So…” I push my oversized sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. “Know where you’re taking me?”
A soft smile dances on his lips, ones that I’ve spent far too much of my time staring at lately—wondering exactly what they’d taste like. “Absolutely.”
Much to my surprise,we don’t drive into the city. Instead, Warren parked outside the Enfield terminal station, where we got on what he called the “tube.”
“The tune?”
“No.” He laughs, grabbing onto the overhead handrails that line the cart. I can’t help but notice a hint of a dimple that appears on his cheek, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
I think making Warren laugh might be my favorite thing in the world.
Sometimes I purposely mispronounce things just to hear him correct me. It’s an odd kink, I know.
“The tube, Delaney. Like a tube of toothpaste,” he continues with a shake of his head, looking down at me with a sparkle in his eye.
I think he likes teaching me—or, dare I say,coachingme—just as much as I love getting private lessons.
I bite down on my lip in disbelief, partly because of his statement and partly because of how much I hadn’t realized what a terrible job I’d done suppressing my real thoughts about him today.
His gaze lingers on my lips for a brief moment before I speak up again. “You know, I’ve never been on a subway…tubebefore.” I attempt to grab onto the handrail when the cart suddenly juts around a corner. “Woah!” I stumble slightly, barely able to recover and steady myself.
“I can tell,” Warren cunningly remarks, though I think I might’ve I saw a hint of hesitation cross his face as I went unsteady. “You need to hold on properly,” he tells me, his tone suddenly more direct. It almost sounds like hecares. “It moves fast.”
I roll my eyes at his dad-like energy before releasing both of my hands and feigning shock. “Oh no!” I pull back from the rail, standing in the center of the aisle and mimicking his concerned expression. “Betcha, I can stay still with no hands,” I playfully wiggle my fingers in front of him.
