She inhales a sharp breath, but remains as quiet as a monk on a vow of silence.
“I never meant to hurt you that night, Ava. I just had an irrepressible need to get you away from Rhys,” I explain.
An adorable glint of excitement brightens her eyes. “I know,” she whispers faintly.
“And while I’m being totally forthright, I fucking hate the ‘Friends’ sitcom.”
Ava’s beautiful laugh resonates over the quietness. “So do I!” Her words are barely audible through the barrage of laughter bellowing from her lips. “I only watched it because I thought you loved it.”
My brow arches high. “What? You knew all the characters’ names, job titles, even what their pets were called.”
Ava’s laughter becomes uncontrollable. “That’s only because I studied their bios wanting to impress you.”
I grimace. “God, how many hours did we waste watching a show we both hated?”
Ava laughs so hard, tears stream down her cheeks. “Too many to count,” she says breathlessly between giggles.
She clutches at her stomach, easing the cramps from her thunderous laugh. Once her laughter settles down, she lifts her tear-stained face and peers at me. The flutter of the pulse in her neck quickens when I brush the back of my fingers across her heated cheeks, removing her tear stains. A smile curves on my lips when she leans into my hand.
* * *
The smile Avawore the entire three-mile trip widens as we make our way into the foyer of our apartment building.The gentleman at the reception desk greets Ava with a smile before granting her access to a hidden office behind the impressively sized black and gray marbled reception area.
A security guard sporting a crisp black suit and a military haircut lifts his head when Ava saunters into the space. Noticing me shadowing Ava, his hand sweeps into his jacket, no doubt bracing the concealed gun holstered on his hip. He stares at me with both alarm and annoyance in his fiery eyes. His focus only returns to the bank of security monitors in front of him when Ava gestures her head to the Tupperware containers in my hand.
Although his attention appears to revert to monitoring the live feed, I can feel his eyes tracking me as I follow Ava into the manager’s office at the back of the room.
Placing two Tupperware containers on the edge of the desk, Ava pivots on her heels and removes the four still-warm containers from my grasp. My eyes absorb the space as Ava paces to a wall-to-ceiling cupboard at our side.
Compared to other offices I’ve seen, this one is the size of a closet. The minimal floor space is taken up by a glass and chrome desk sitting in the middle of the room. There is a faded, cracked leather chair behind it and a black safe bolted to the ground on my left.
When Ava places cutlery and plates onto the corner of the desk, the office door swings open. A waft of Old Spice drifts into the room, closely followed by Patty. From the potent strength of his aftershave, I would say he only put it on mere minutes ago.
“You’re half an hour early today,” he says. Although his gruff tone could be construed as annoyed, his face does not give that allusion.
Ava smiles a beaming white smile as she greets Patty with a kiss on his cheek. A smile curls on my lips when Patty’s stark white cheeks turn a shade of red. I can’t blame him. Just the thought of having Ava’s lips anywhere near my body sets my pulse racing, let alone other parts of my body.
“I’m a little early as Hugo was kind enough to offer me a lift,” Ava informs him, gesturing to me.
Patty’s head cranks to the side as he eyes me with caution. His stance is strong, primed and ready to shred me to pieces if needed.
“Patty, this is a…friendof mine, Hugo,” Ava introduces. “Hugo, this is my dear friend, Patty.”
The smile on my face broadens from the stumble she made introducing me.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, accepting the handshake Patty offers.
My brow arches, surprised by how firm Patty’s grip is for a man of his age. Maybe what Ava said last week is true? Maybe there is a twenty-five-year-old hiding in his body, dying to break free? Patty’s grip on my hand tightens as his worldly eyes stare into mine, assessing my soul from the outside.
As I return his stare, my initial opinion on him alters. He isn’t a man wanting to recapture his youth by parading around with a young trophy wife on his arm. He displays the qualities of a man trying to protect one of his most valued possessions. He cares for Ava. Not in a weird, dirty old man type of way. He truly cares for her like she is his family. Like she is his daughter.
God, if I can read that just from looking into his eyes, what is he reading from mine?
After a beat, he says, “I like you, Hugo.” Nothing more. Nothing less.
Ava’s excitement at his approval washes over her face. Seeing her excitement eases the tight knot in my stomach. Gushing, Ava directs Patty to take a seat in the leather chair on the other side of the desk. While giving him a full update on everything that transpired at the Marshall family brunch, she layers his plate with a selection of scrumptious goodies.
The twinkle in Patty’s eyes illuminates when Ava opens the last container holding her blueberry pancakes. Even though I devoured enough pancakes to sustain me from eating for a year, my stomach still grumbles when their delicious smell filters through the air.
