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I have to admit, I didn’t think he’d take me up on it. But here I am, sitting across from Niles Prescott, and I’m nervous. I twist the cranberry red Cosmo in front of me, avoiding eye contact.
For some reason I don’t fully understand, Niles looks hot. Hotter than I remember him being. Maybe it was the kiss. Actually, I know it was the kiss. I can’t get it out of my head, and every time I look at him and see that shy, reserved smile as his eyes dart away from mine, I want to do it again.
Niles isn’t classically handsome, but he does have that certain je ne sais quoi that’s getting my engines revving. I have so many questions running through my head, but one stands out more than the others.
As I look up and catch his green-eyed gaze again, I make a decision. I’m just going to say it. “Are you gay?”
Niles’ eyes and nostrils flare, and he goes from leaning forward to forcing his back against the chair in a flash. He stares at me, his mouth gaping as he grasps for an answer.
“What on earth would make you think that?”
I shake my head. “Forget it. Bad info.”
“From who?”
Ah, crap. If I snitch on Colleen, it’ll only cause him to ask more questions, and that will eventually lead to me having to tell him that the whole office is in his personal business, and then things will get awkward. Well, more so than they are right now. Only I can just imagine how terrible it will be for him to show his face at work tomorrow. And every day after that.
I wave my hand through the air while picking up my cocktail and lifting it to my lips, saying, “No one important,” just before I take a drink.
He scowls and his lips twist in dissatisfaction, but he doesn’t follow up with the question I expect him to ask. He doesn’t try to press me for answers, and it surprises me as much as it impresses. He has self-control that I wish I possessed.
“Is that why you asked me out tonight?” he grumbles, and I can tell he’s reached the wrong conclusion about tonight.
“No!” God no. Does he truly have no idea that I have developed a craving for him? As unhealthy as it may be. I watch him for a long moment before he finally dares to look at me again, and when I see the host of questions staring back at me, I know I have to fess up. “Truth be told, I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.” I chuckle, and then down the rest of my cocktail, wishing it came with free refills because this man is twisting me up into knots, and right now I’d love to drown every one of my burgeoning insecurities in alcohol.
“So you tracked me down and asked me out,” he surmises, a smile in his voice. When I look up, I see he’s wearing a matching expression, and I return it, a fraction of that nervous energy releasing from my insides.
“Basically.”
Visibly bolstered, he takes a swig of his beer and continues. “I’m glad you did. I haven’t stopped thinking about it either.” His gaze falls to my lips, and I can’t resist the urge to run my tongue over them. Hell, I can still remember with perfect clarity the way it felt to have his mouth pressed against mine.
Those green eyes darken and I die a little inside, wanting nothing more than to have permission to climb across the table that separates us and wrap my lips around his.
“I’m game for a repeat performance if you are.” I shrug, allowing him the room to back out, just in case. I don’t want to come on too strong, but I also don’t want to miss an opportunity.
Finishing his beer, he says, “As much as I’d love that, I’m not a fast and loose kind of guy.”
And there you have it. Niles wasn’t that into me. Deflated ego aside, I try to play it off. “That’s cool. Can’t know unless you try, right?” I’m speaking to myself mostly. In a lot of ways, I’ve taken notes from the male playbook on dating. I cast my net wide and wait to see how many fish I can reel in. Tonight, it appears that I’ve come up empty, and that’s okay. At least it wasn’t flat-out rejection, but it still stings all the same.
Niles leans in. “You got me all wrong, Elle. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I take things slower than most. There are certain…stipulations that I have to consider before I get into any kind of relationship.” He looks away when he says this, and I get the distinct impression he has something to hide.
My curiosity piques again, and I’m all ears. Propping my chin on the heel of my hand, I mirror him, leaning in and giving him all of my attention. “What kind of stipulations are we talking about?”
All kinds of possibilities rush through my mind, but nothing even close to what Niles reveals.
“I’m polyamorous.”
My hand drops as I sit back. “Poly what?” I have this sudden image of him surrounded by a dozen women on a ranch out in the middle of nowhere, lavished with attention and a few dozen kids running around. I don’t think he has kids—yet—but I instantly don’t want any part of it.
He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a huff. “Polyamorous. I prefer to be in relationships that involve more than one person. You saw my pictures,” he surmises. “My friends.”
I nod mutely.
“We have an arrangement.”
“So you are gay.” He’s telling me he’s in a relationship with those guys, but his earlier denial of being gay doesn’t match up.
