To See You (19 page)

H
e stared at me, his eyes melting me, turning me into a gooey mess.

I showed up expecting witty Layton, the guy who liked to make me laugh.

Instead, I found hot and sexy Layton, who still made me laugh. Of course, he’d been handsome before; I could see beauty beneath the girth. But this? This was unexpected.

I had no idea how to react, the appropriate thing to say or do. Did I say
holy shit you’re hot now that you dropped fifty?

Or
I thought I liked you last time I saw you, but now . . . whew!

At first, fear ripped through me. I thought he was sick or something because he seemed content with who he’d been before. Why would he go and change?

“So, tell me about you,” I said, changing the subject. “We’ve been talking about me forever.” I’d spread too much out there about myself, and here I was trying to let go, love life, be free, and he shows up all tight and insanely dapper.

“To be honest,” he said as he swirled an ice cube in his water glass and leaned forward, “this all sort of came about because of you.” He took a long sip from it before he added, “Don’t freak out. It wasn’t to get you or anything like that.”

I raised an eyebrow and felt it touch my bangs. “Get me?”

“I mean, it wasn’t to win you over. I didn’t feel like I had to change my looks for that. When I first started pursuing you through e-mails . . . yeah, kind of stalking you . . . I kept screwing up. So I spent a lot of time walking, more than I’d moved in a long time. By the time I got to New York that last time, I was already down a few pounds and feeling better.”

“Funny, I was a fitness editor and obsessed with everything fitness, and now I’ve sort of let it go and you’re all gung-ho. Life’s strange, isn’t it?”

He dropped his elbows on the table and leaned in even closer. “Let me be very clear, Charli. No way you’ve let anything go. Pardon my language, but you look fucking fabulous. You have since the day you stepped on the plane.” He reached out to tweak a piece of my hair. “And this longer hair? It suits you.”

When did Layton become so irresistibly bossy? And when did I start to love it?

Like five seconds ago.

Chills ran sprints up and down my spine, and butterflies were doing plyometrics in my belly. Between my legs, tingles and spasms took charge.

I had to say something, had to acknowledge him. “Thank you. Honestly, it’s more of not having time to deal with it. Going to an office, I had to keep up with my hair. Now I tie it up and hit Starbucks.”

“Don’t change a thing. You’re perfect, Charleston.”

My full name rolled off his tongue and straight to my core. It had never sounded so delicious. I rubbed my palms along my jeans and smoothed the front of my red sweater, trying to wipe away the tension flitting through me.

“So, you’re walking and feeling good, and then what?”

“I got into it. I was on that action flick, and started checking out the workouts the actors were doing when I stopped by the set. One day I asked to join in, and Ryan Richards, you know him?”

“Um, yes. Every female with a pulse knows him.”

“Well, he took me under his wing. Literally. I was his charge. He set me up with his chef and had me doing all these workouts.”

“Wow.”

“Are you wow-ing over Ryan or the workouts? Because I never know. The last date I had, she wanted to know if I could introduce her to Ryan.”

All I heard was
the last date I had
. I felt my lips press flat and my brows draw in.

“You don’t have to feel bad if that’s what you wanted to know too. I can introduce you.” He took a long slug of his water, refusing to make eye contact. I’d hurt his feelings, but not intentionally.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Here you go.” Our waiter was back, arranging our burgers on the table along with some ridiculous french fry platter with a million dipping sauces. I wished he’d fall through the floor.

Stupid waiter
.

When he left, our food sat there untouched as tension swirled between us. So I gathered my courage and spilled the truth.

“I don’t want to meet Ryan. I guess I didn’t like hearing you were on a date, but I don’t own you.”

“Charli, I’ve wanted to date you since you sat down in seat 2C. Are you not catching on to that? It’s still me, Layton, and I’m still desperately trying to woo you. There may have been dates but there’s been zero wooing. Only hoping for you.”

Something unfamiliar pricked at my eyes, emotions I’d never felt. I couldn’t unravel the ball of feelings in my chest.

“Come on,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Eat your burger and tell me what’s going on with you. What the hell are you writing? And then we can get some ice cream from one of the street vendors.”

He picked up his burger and took a bite, and I couldn’t help but watch him chew, the way his jaw flexed. I noticed he wore the stubble again.

Oh, that stubble. I’m a goner.

Wiping my mouth after a decent bite of burger and a fry, I said, “I submitted my collection of short stories. I got like thirty no’s and then just like that, two deals came my way. The book is coming out at the beginning of the summer. I just approved the cover.”

“That deserves a wow! And now what?”

I turned my focus to the table. I didn’t want to admit this out loud.

Layton’s index finger lifted my chin and raised my gaze to meet his. He raised an eyebrow in question.

“I’m writing a love story. A beauty and the beast kind of thing . . .”

“Well, I’m flattered. You’re writing our tale.”

Except I’m the beast.

I didn’t say anything. I ate a fry and changed the subject, asking about the movie he was working on.

Dinner passed with more small talk and laughter. As we stood up from the table, our hands didn’t know where to go. I wanted his to find the small of my back; mine wanted to find his other hand and weave our fingers together. Neither happened, but he did hold my coat up and I slipped inside, buttoning up tight.

When we walked through the door, cold air blasted us.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not an ice cream night,” I remarked, feeling a little sad at the prospect.

I didn’t want the night to end, and I didn’t know when he was leaving the city. I knew he’d met with the small music label again, and I assumed he would be out of here tomorrow.

My time was up, and the irony of the situation struck me. We were like a strange flip-flop of the classic fairy tale, but I was the prince and he was Cinderella at the ball. Soon he’d transform back to who he was and slip off into the night, leaving me alone.

I didn’t care if he became the old Layton. I only didn’t want him to slip away.

He gave me a somber look. “I guess I owe you one?”

We stood outside on the sidewalk, flurries swirling in the air, taxis whooshing by, and a herd of elephants surrounding us. Passion and hesitation flowed between us in equal parts.

“Want to come back to my place? I make a mean hot cocoa,” I blurted before I could change my mind.

“Lead the way,” he said, his relief palpable, and I waved for an available cab.

We hopped in and I rattled off my address. As the cab sped us to my place, we sat side by side in the backseat, thigh to thigh like we had on the plane, both of us staring forward, refusing to look at each other because of those damn elephants.

Then his hand reached for mine. I’d put my gloves on, but I still felt the heat of his marvelous hand through the cashmere.

And I wanted that heat everywhere.

I
was going with Charli back to her place, something I’d never dreamed possible. I tried to calm down, needing to control my heart rate; it was beating faster than during any workout I’d ever attempted.

As I slid into the cab first so she didn’t have to slide across, I scolded myself. The only thing on the menu was hot cocoa, and I wasn’t such a big fan of the stuff anyway.

In the dim light of the cab, I studied Charli’s features. She looked unsure of herself, unsettled. Not with the choice to invite me over, I didn’t think, but more with what my intentions were. She’d met me at the restaurant to tell me she liked me the way I was, and I was a totally different person when she arrived.

Hoping to soothe her, I reached for her hand, engulfing her gloved fingers in mine, and relief passed over her features. Mission accomplished.

In front of her building, I handed the driver a wad of cash and we ran toward the door. She fell into my shoulder as she punched in the security code to the building, and sparks flew in the air, floating with the flurries. I wrapped my arm around her as she led the way to her unit.

I wasn’t sure why I was so giddy. I lived in California and she lived in New York. This couldn’t go anywhere, even if she wanted me. The old me or the new one, it really didn’t matter. We were just too damn far apart.

“Come in.” Charli broke the silence as we stepped inside her loft, hanging her coat on a rack and reaching for mine. She stepped out of her heeled boots, leaving her feet in pink socks with red hearts, and her height cut by two or three inches.

“Want me to take off my boots?”

“That’d be great,” she said over her shoulder, walking toward a small kitchen area and flicking on the lights.

The place was basically one open living area decorated in various shades of purple and cream. I assumed a bedroom and a bathroom must be tucked somewhere in the back. I glanced around, impressed; even a California boy like me knew that for New York standards, the place was posh.

When she pulled a can from the cabinet and asked if I liked milk or water with my hot chocolate, I said, “Why don’t you make some for yourself? I’m actually not a huge fan.”

“Oh.” Quickly regrouping, she stuck her head in the fridge. “I have beer, water, wine, but no soda.”

“I’m good.”

Not meeting my eyes, she busied herself, leaving a mug of water in the microwave to heat as she pulled out a tea bag. I came up behind her and caged her against the counter, my hands splayed on the counter and my front to her back. I wasn’t forcing it; she could move if she wanted, but she didn’t.

I ran my nose down her cheek and breathed deeply, trying to control the fire raging inside me on this cold winter’s night. We stilled for a long moment, not speaking, me soaking her in through all my senses.

“I like you, Charli,” I said softly, and I immediately wanted to take back my words. Rejection ran through my veins. It had happened before, and I didn’t think my blood was still tainted with it. But it was.

She stared at the counter, her dark blond hair cascading forward around her face, the nape of her neck in plain view. Unable to resist, I kissed it, ran my lips over her skin like I had every right. Some type of urgency prompted me to touch her. Feel her. Inhale her. Do it all before she pushed back.

“I want you in the worst way,” I admitted. “Ever since you sat next to me on the plane, my thoughts are a traffic jam of you. I think of you at the premiere in red. The way your fingers held chopsticks over sushi. My imagination runs wild, visualizing you reading my e-mails at work, in bed, or on your phone. Your smile. My head is like the 405 at rush hour when it comes to you. You’re in my head, and I never wanted to be stuck in traffic so badly.”