She arched an eyebrow at him. “If you are, then I am.”
“Ha. I’ve got seven years on you. Plus, I haven’t had more than a few beers since the crash.”
Her back straightened. “The crash? What crash?”
He’d told her about being in the army but hadn’t told her why he’d left. But it wasn’t a topic he talked about much, and he definitely didn’t want to talk about it now. “A couple of years ago, in the army, I downed a chopper. It was why I decided enough was enough.”
“Obviously, you’re all right now.”
“Yeah, minor breaks, some cuts, and bruises, that’s it. I was lucky.” Two of the guys in the chopper with him hadn’t been. It was a depressing thought, and why he didn’t talk about it, so he changed the subject completely. “Okay, where’s my take-home pie?”
“Here, let me put a slice in a container for you.” She busied herself with her task and Rylan leaned back on the counter and did what was becoming a favorite pastime, he watched her.
He hadn’t meant to bring the mood down and figured it was best to get out of there before he made things worse. He didn’t need or want her pity, and he certainly didn’t need to be thinking about that time in his life.
“I can’t pack ice cream with this, so you’re on your own there.”
Mazey’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Good thing too because he’d spent enough time living in his head after the crash to last him a lifetime. “That’s okay, I’ve got some at home.”
She turned to pass him the pie as he pushed off the counter and stepped forward, and somehow they ended up pressed against each other. The top of her head fit beneath his chin, and if he wrapped his arms around her, he could snuggle her tight against his chest.
He’d never been a cuddler. He liked his space. He supposed it came from all those years in the army sleeping on his own. But he could do this. Could hold her close. Shit. He wanted to hold her close.
And it had nothing to do with wanting in her pants.
“Sorry.” She pushed away from him. “I didn’t mean . . . Here.”
He looked down at the container she thrust between them. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Her gaze darted around the room. “I’ll, um, see you at work then.”
She was pushing him out the door. He got it. This was awkward. It was also enlightening because it told him something he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure of before.
The attraction he felt for Mazey wasn’t a one-way street.
Nope, the short, fast breaths she was taking, the beaded tips of her breasts, and the flush filling her face meant she found him as arousing as he found her, and that, above all else, put a smile on his face.
He could work with that.
Would work with that.
They might not be ready to take their relationship to the next level, but they’d get there. He had no doubt now.
They just weren’t going to take that step yet.
She had walls, he had walls, they needed to work their way around them first.
So he did the only thing he could.
He took the offered pie and said, “Thanks for the pie,” and got out of there.
11
Mazey tugged on the hem of her dress. She was showing way more leg than she liked considering she was teetering on three-inch heels. And don’t get her started about the drink in her hand. Sex with a . . . on a . . . sex something-or-other.
Sex in a glass was all she needed to know. It helped stop her from running into the bathroom to hide.
She’d been uncomfortable from the minute Alyssa had talked her into trying on the dress.
