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“I have a reservation. I checked the rules. It’ll be fine. What’s the address here?”
“What do you need my address for?”
She waved the bills at him. “To pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I couldn’t keep it—”
“It’s not even fifty bucks. Just—here. Hang on a second.” He got a pen and another take-out menu from the drawer. Why the hell didn’t Alec have a notepad?
He jotted down his email address and phone number and handed them over. “Call me when you get home.”
“I don’t want to bother you.”
“Call me. I’ll worry otherwise. And if you don’t get home, and something goes wrong, call me and tell me, and I’ll come pick you up.”
More sensitive-man crap. Apparently if you acted like a nice guy, you turned into one. At least temporarily.
“All right, I will. Thank you.” She hopped off the chair. “I can help with the dishes.”
“No, I’ve got it. You should get going. It might be a hassle at the airport.”
“You sure? I hate to leave you with this mess. I know it’s mostly on my account.”
When she lifted a plate, he said, “Leave it.”
Too harsh. She held up her hands, palms flat. I’m backing off, the gesture said. So you won’t bite me.
She went into the living room and folded the blanket he’d thrown over her last night. After slipping on her shoes, she spent a minute pushing Alec’s couch pillows around into a more attractive arrangement and then pulled her jersey over her head.
Her hair had started to dry at the ends and in wispy little curls around her face. The sun was up now, and it lit those stray pieces of hair so they glowed, golden and bright.
“Thanks for everything,” she said. “Sorry I … you know. Kind of crash-landed in your life last night.”
“Did I not make myself clear about the apologies?”
That won him a fleeting smile.
“You really won’t let me drive you.”
“I really don’t need you to drive me.”
He sighed. “At least tell me how you’re getting back to the subway.”
“Right out the door, left at the first corner, two blocks down.”
He nodded. He couldn’t think what else to say, so he stepped close, leaned in, and brushed his lips over her cheek. She smelled like his soap.
“Travel safe, May-Belle.”
“I’ll do my best.”
When she left, he sat down on the couch and stared at the blank back of the door, trying to figure out why he felt like he’d just been whacked with the blunt end of a karmic stick.
And what it meant that he felt remarkably calm about that.
Empty, but calm.
