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My talk with Xavier had been uncomfortable, off-putting, and surprising in a multitude of ways, but I’d rather spend the entire day rehashing our kiss than speak with Mark.
I’d broken things off with him right before Greece. We met when he was bartending at the happy hour spot my friends and I frequented, and we hooked up for a few months until he booked us aweekend getawayat a bed-and-breakfast. That was when I knew it was over.
“Oh, come on,” Mark wheedled. If I hadn’t been sure we were over before, I was now. There was nothing more unattractive than a grown man whining. “If you—”
“She saidleave.” Xavier cut him off, his voice lethally soft.
He hadn’t moved since Mark called himself my boyfriend, but his eyes smoldered with deadly warning.
Despite his relaxed pose, one arm tossed over the back of the booth and the other resting on the table, tension filled every line of his body. He resembled a predator lying in the weeds, waiting to strike.
A shiver breathed cold down my spine.
Xavier wasn’t the violent type, but I had a gut feeling that if he and Mark went head to head, one of them would end up on the ground—and it’d be the one standing right now.
“This doesn’t involve you,” Mark snapped, but he took a tiny step to the right, away from Xavier. “I still don’t know who the fuck you are.”
“You don’t need to know who I am.” Xavier’s affable smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You do, however, need to take a hint. Sloane broke up with you, and you didn’t listen. She told you to leave, and you didn’t listen. That’s two strikes. I highly suggest you don’t make a third.”
Some people’s anger ran hot, exploding in outbursts and impulsive violence.
Xavier’s ran cold, smoothing his tone, frosting the air, and sending another breathless shiver over my skin.
I could and did take care of myself. I didn’t want to play the damsel in distress, and I didn’t need a man barging in to reiterate things I’d already said.
But fuck, sometimes it felt good to have backup, especially when it came wrapped in muscles and devastating charm.
Mark’s gaze slid from Xavier to me and back again. Whatever he saw in our faces must’ve spooked him because he turned tail and fled without another word.
My fork clattered against my plate when he disappeared from view. I’d clutched it in a death grip this entire time, and the metal left a cold imprint against my skin.
Xavier dropped his arm from the booth, tension unwinding from his body like a spool of rope. The dangerous gleam vanished from his eyes, and he observed me for a quiet moment.
“Luna,” he said, “you have unequivocally shitty taste in past men.”
I groaned, already over this day even though it was only noon. “Thank you for brunch, but we’re done here.” I tossed a twenty on the table for tip, grabbed my bag, and stood. “I have...” He knew about my cleared calendar.Dammit, Jillian. If she weren’t such a great assistant otherwise, I would fire her for sharing that information with Xavier. “Emails to check.”
“I certainly hate to keep you from your emails, but we haven’t finished our earlier conversation, as you kindly pointed out to Meathead Central.” Xavier flagged down our server and paid our bill before following me out of the restaurant. “Give me a good reason why we can’t date besides our working relationship.”
“That should be enough reason.” I purposely turned away from him and scanned the street for a passing cab. A quick phone check told me it would be faster than trying to hail an Uber.
“Working relationships come and go, Luna. Personal ones don’t.” A small pause. “At least, they shouldn’t.”
“Are you firing me?”
“No, I’m saying we can work around the publicist-client thing. Hell, we can watch one of those rom-coms you love—er, love tohate-watch—so much for inspiration,” Xavier amended when I glared at him. “Hollywood must’ve come up with a dozen strategies for this sort of thing.”
“I told you, rom-coms are unrealistic. Hollywood isn’t real life.” I whirled to face him. “You just told Mark to know when to take a hint.Whyare you being so insistent about this?”
“Because I want you.”
Simple. Matter-of-fact. And a fierce, unexpected blow to my chest.
The air evacuated from my lungs as I stared at Xavier. His eyes and mouth had sobered, wiping away the irreverence and leaving only sincerity behind.
“I don’t want a kiss or a one-night stand,” he said. “I wantyou. I want to know you outside work. I want to take you on real dates. And I don’t know if it’ll work out in the end, but I want us to at least try.”
For God’s sake, Sloane, no one wants to date a block of ice.
