“To wherever you live? The front desk told me you weren’t here anymore, so…”
He looks lost for a moment, then realization dawns. “You thought I didn’t live in L.A.?”
“Well…yeah. Why else would we have come here that night?”
He laughs incredulously. “What a mess. I came here because I didn’t want to waste time going to my place. It would’ve taken too long, especially on a Friday night.”
I flush, embarrassed over my assumption. Then I notice that he’s in a white shirt and khaki slacks.Wait. Is he…?“Okay, um, weird question: are you waiting for a woman you gave a ride to a hospital two years ago?”
He cocks his head. “Yes. How did you know?”
Oh my God.A smile splits my face. “That wasme!”
He laughs softly, then looks at me again. “That’s… Wow. Almost unbelievable.” He puts a hand on my elbow protectively as he takes me to a table. There’s some coffee in an elegant porcelain cup. “Want something to drink?”
“Uh… No, I’m okay. Maybe just some water?”
He gestures at a server, and a glass of water appears. I look at him, unable to process this turn of events.He’sthe one who helped me when I was at my most desperate, with nobody from the Webbers willing to give me a ride and Adam out of town. And this same man was the one who came to my rescue when that drunk lawyer started to get physical at the bar.
“I looked for you,” Huxley says. “I ordered breakfast for us before going to sleep. But you weren’t there in the morning, and…” He spreads his hands. “Grace, why did you leave?”
I shake my head. “I’m so sorry. I thought it might get awkward the next day. I, um, would’ve liked to see you again—like,reallywould have—but I’m just not in a position to be able to do a long-distance thing.” Having Mom halfway across the country is more than I can handle.
He nods slowly. “And you thought I lived somewhere else.”
“Yeah. I did.” I can’tbelievehow dumb that sounds now.
The sugary scent of desserts in this place is positively tormenting. My eyes slide to the trays full of delightful little pistachio cakes, brownies and mini-berry tarts. My mouth waters—I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast. But knowing how much it costs, I can’t bring myself to order anything. I drop my eyes and sip the cold water to fill my empty belly. A sandwich at home makes more economic sense. I’ve fallen behind on my savings goal for the month because I foolishly splurged on the shrimp for the “congrats to Peter for his promotion” dinner and the whiskeys I bought at the bar. No more spending money on unplanned food and drinks until I’m caught up. Mom’s going to be okay soon—I know it—and we’ll move to someplace away from SoCal—and Nelson. A place with a backyard where we can plant the flowers she loves so much.
Huxley tilts his head, and the server immediately rushes over. “One of each set,” he says, gesturing at the dessert trays. “And a bitter caramel tea.”
“Right away, sir.”
“That’s a lot,” I blurt out. On the other hand, he’s a big man, so he might want the calories.Why did I say that?I squirm, feeling a teeny bit awkward that I commented at all. What if he thinks I’m trying to get him to share when the main reason we’re here is for me to pay him? I clear my throat, paste on a brightsmile and face him. “I’m sure you’ll love them all. Anyway, I just want to thank you—again—for giving me that ride. I’m grateful you didn’t just run me over, thinking I was some crazy woman.”
He laughs. “The thought crossed my mind, but something about you that night convinced me maybe you weren’t insane.”
My grin widens. “Thank God.”
“How’s your mother?”
“On her way to recovery, thank you. I was so shocked when you finally called. I thought about you from time to time, and wondered if the lack of contact was a sign that I should just try to pay it forward instead.” I clear my throat again. “Anyway, how much do I owe you? If it’s like a hundred or something, I can pay you now, but if you want me to pay for, like, water damage to your seat, um, you may need to be more patient because I don’t have a lot of money. I can probably do installments, though.” It’ll put me even further from my savings goal, but it’d be wrong for me to refuse to pay when he did me such a huge favor.
The waiter returns with a gorgeous teapot etched with pink-gold roses and places the empty teacups in front of me and Huxley, then starts the hourglass, its fine grains of sand sparkling as they drain steadily through the narrow gap. He sets three gorgeous sets with various desserts on the table, then leaves.
“Go ahead,” Huxley says. “The pistachio cake is particularly good, especially with the bitter caramel tea. Same for the berry tarts.”
I flush. Guess he must’ve noticed me eyeing the desserts. Wonder if he also figured out why I declined to order anything.
Maybe,my subconscious whispers. Every so often, Karie sneers that I “reek” of poverty, no matter what I do, because the poor “just have that way about them.”
“It’s my favorite combo,” he adds with a warm smile.
I realize that despite the gruff attitude from two years ago, he actually is kind, and my heart flutters. I feel silly for being anxious over the possibility that he might ask me to pay for damage to his car. “Thank you.” I take a bite of the cake. It melts in my mouth in a delightful cloud of buttery cream and sugar.Holy cow. It’s nearly orgasmic. I close my eyes. “Mmm-mmmm.”
Once I’m done with the bite, I open my eyes. He’s looking at me with an intensity that betrays a hunger that has nothing to do with food. I bite my lip as heat of my own unfurls. Until I remember that he didn’t call me for sex. He had no idea who I was. “So. The payment.”
The heated haze in his eyes abates a little, and he makes a small, dismissive gesture. “Don’t worry about that. I don’t need money.”
