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Brady followed my lead, pushing to his feet, though I noted he moved slowly, like a big cat scenting prey. I strode for the hall closet, yanking my jacket out and thrusting my hands through the sleeves, avoiding his gaze. All I wanted was to escape and find a private place to analyze my reaction to Brady. He’d turned me inside out with that kiss. Made me abandon my inhibitions. Abandon my promises to myself. I'd done what I could to walk it back, to put us back on more casual footing, but something about the serious cast to his features made me think I wouldn't get away so easy.
"Eve," he placed a gentle hand on my wrist. The soft gesture made me want to flip my palm, entwine my fingers with his, but shadows of Scott intruded. Would he drop my hand in public like Scott had? True, I hadn't realized Scott had been worried about running into friends who knew he was married, but Brady's rigid behavior and quick shifts between personal and professional didn't inspire confidence.
I deserved someone who treated me like an oath, not a secret.
"Let's keep things professional at school, okay?" I said, meeting his gaze briefly. Concern flared there. For me, or for his reputation?
"Of course. Let me grab my keys and I'll see you home."
Chapter 8
Brady
Weweremostlyquieton the short drive to Eve's. I could barely think, still battling my erection and memories of our make out session in my kitchen. I didn't know what to say. Scratch that – I'd pretty much lost the ability to speak.
Kissing Eve, feeling her arch above me like a goddess, wrapping myself in her silk, had been heaven.
Which made the crash to earth when I created distance between us feel all the more like hell. I'd ruined the mood, and I wasn't quite sure how to fix it.
This was the problem with letting someone see the real me: severe whiplash. Me on the job was different from me at home. Not everyone enjoyed the differences. I'd thought Eve might be an exception, someone who could see both halves of my life and meld the two. After all, she straddled worlds herself: scary-organized Campfire event planner by day and badass artist inking up clients by night.
As much as I wished Eve could take me as I was, an apology for tonight was probably in order. I'd spun our easygoing dinner into something unexpected in the kitchen.
Clearing my throat as I drew to a stop in front of her place, I searched for the right words. "Eve, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight, if I took things too far."
Eve shifted, turning to look at me. She held my gaze a moment, seeming to judge my sincerity. Eve shook her head, and my stomach dropped. She was refusing my apology. Disappointment washed through me. In the heat of the moment, it'd felt like she was all-in, there with me every step. But her denial now made me doubt my view of our night together.
"Brady, if anyone owes an apology for tonight, it's probably me," she said meekly.
I didn't like it.
Eve didn't seem like she'd been docile a minute in her life. Getting it from her now struck me as wrong. Humble was fine, but she seemed almost dejected.
"Sometimes I leap without thinking," she said mildly, reasserting more of her composure. "Welcome to impulsive island: population, me."
"There's nothing wrong with being spontaneous," I said, not liking the implication that kissing me had been a mistake. I couldn't wait to get home and relive every second, probably until I went blind. I hated the idea that she viewed our time in my kitchen differently. It’d been transformative. Magnificent. Nothing to be ashamed of.
"You're the last man I expected to applaud spontaneity. Are you feeling okay, Brady?" Eve slapped a gentle palm on my forehead.
I swatted her hand away, my scowl dissolving into a grin. "Well, I have been feeling you up. That'smorethan okay with me. However, I’ll admit I am a little hot and bothered. You do that to me."
Eve groaned, sounding exasperated by my attempt to cover my discomfort with humor. "You’re not making any sense. What are you trying to say? Is this some round-about way of saying you're sick of me?"
"Easy, Tiger. Just the opposite. I have been feeling odd around you for weeks though. Heart palpitations, sweaty palms. But I googled my symptoms, and it turns out that I just like you."
"Brady," Eve admonished. "Is implying that I'm a disease supposed to be foreplay?"
"Why do you insist on twisting everything I say? And really, it's more of a sickness. One of the rare ones. Did I mention I'm not looking for a cure?"
Eve rolled her eyes, but I caught the way her lip quirked on the side, like she was trying not to smile. "You're way cornier than I expected, Principal Gleason."
"Is that your way of saying you like me too?" I asked, turning on the charm.
"Whatever you have, it may be catching. But don't think this gets you out of any troublemaking I have planned. I hold a mean grudge."
I raised my hands, projecting innocence. "I wouldn't dream of interfering in whatever you've masterminded. But, if I can dissuade you with kisses, I'm also not above a little persuasion."
Eve's dark eyes danced in the low light. "I look forward to your attempts," she said, smiling softly.
