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I jump when I hear his door open, and then there he goes, across the room to the bathroom. He’s looking at something on his phone, which is utterly unsexy—don’t want to think about him in the bathroom holding his phone. The thought snaps me out of my daze. I shut my laptop down and take another drink of my wine. There’s too much in the bottle to finish it, so I put the stopper in it and set it back in the refrigerator.
“Sorry.”
I spin around when I hear his voice. Gideon approaches the bar with a sheepish grin. He tucks his phone in the pocket of his khakis and lays his hands flat on the counter.
“It’s fine,” I mumble, because making a big deal out of it would only put more focus on whatever he might have overheard.
“I left the Cat at nine,” he tells me. “Grabbed a burger at some bar on the way back. I could have stayed out later, but I thought you would be done by now.”
“You—?” Frowning, I look over my shoulder at the clock on my microwave. It’s just after ten. Good grief. Book club was more talkative tonight than I thought. Gideon had done as I asked and stayed out until after nine, and I was angry when he showed up. “Wow. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“Sounded like you were having fun.” He drums his fingers on the counter for a second and then steps back. Our eyes meet and hold. He couldn’t have heard them talking about him, right? But isn’t it just as embarrassing if he heard them teasing about Gideon cramping my style if I wanted to bring Mel home?
Probably best not to bring it up. Instead, I drain my wine and nod as I rinse my glass and put it in the sink.
“Goodnight,” I tell him. Still standing there, he twists around to watch me as I walk by. He says goodnight, our eyes locked as I walk backwards to my room.
“Skye?” His voice is gruff when I turn and flip on my light switch.
“Hmm?” I stack one bare foot on top of the other, worried I might go up in flames when Gideon takes his time looking at my yoga pants and my shoulder where my loose-fitting tee keeps sliding off my shoulder.
“If you did want to…” He clears his throat and shrugs. “I mean, just let me know.”
My face floods with heat again. He did hear us. And now, he’s giving me the okay to bring Mel home if I want to. What next? Will he suggest we come up with a code so we’ll know to leave if any romance is happening in the apartment?
“Um.” My voice is an octave too high, and I flinch, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Actually, Mel asked me to do dinner again this week.”
“Oh.”
Is it my imagination, or does he sound disappointed? Wishful thinking, probably.
“Just let me know what night. I can make myself scarce.”
For a second, I wonder where he would go. I’m so curious, I almost ask. But that would give him the impression I do want to bring Mel here, when in fact, I don’t want to date the guy at all. Much less sleep with him.
“I told you last week I’m not interested in him. He’s a nice guy, but…”
“Just a friend,” he says with a nod. He’s not asking a question, but I nod my agreement anyway.
His shoulders kind of slump, and the way my belly flip-flops, you’d think I believed he was relieved I’m not into another guy. I chalk it up to too much wine and just the general awkwardness of talking about sex in a roundabout way with your best friend’s brother.
“Well.” He shrugs and raises his eyebrows. “Still. If—”
“Yep. Got it.” I nod and reach for my door. I don’t want to be rude, but I’m so ready to end this bizarre conversation.
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Once my door is closed, I lean against it. My knees are like jelly, and I just catch myself from sliding to the floor. Seems like it would be wise to be careful with alcohol around Gideon Reece.
