Safe With You (13 page)

“No, and even if it was, I saw the scrap of lace you stuffed into your bag this morning. Don’t play dumb with the master. You have intentions with your underpants.” She narrows her eyes at me, pointing her finger. “By the way, are Cam and Natasha … ?”

“I haven’t really talked to her much about it.”
Nothing gets past her.
“They hit it off really quick. I think they’d be cute together.”

She throws her head back with a laugh. “Honey, any woman would make herself a good fit for Cameron Tavares.”

I shake my head as I sit and tuck my leg under me. “I wouldn’t.”

“Because you’re one step away from writing Kyle-plus-Olivia-equals-heart all over your walls.” Aubrey nudges my shoulder. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. But, I’m … worried about you.” She sighs and plops next to me, also tucking her leg under her.

I open my mouth, fully ready to give her a long-winded ramble about going to work and liking my alone time, and how I never was a social butterfly. But I don’t want to keep lying to everyone I know. I’ve been in New Orleans for months now, and the more I try to hide, the more ridiculous I feel. My friends don’t deserve to be shut out because Braden and everyone he knows suck.

“I don’t want to run into my ex-boyfriend or any of his friends.” My chin juts out a little more than I want it to, but I keep a scowl off my face. “So I’m keeping a low profile.”

Aubrey shifts on her bed next to me. “Oh, Liv. I figured it was that, but I didn’t want to bluntly ask you.”

“I’m really trying to snap out of it.” If I keep telling myself these things, I have to start believing them at some point. While I’ve been really paranoid, nothing has backed it up. I have to assume he’s moved on to someone else. He wouldn’t put effort into us when we were together, why would he now?

Her shoulders fall as she shakes her head. “You know Noah and Zach really love you. I mean, as friends. And of course you have Kyle. Nothing will happen to you. You have them to rely on and me. I’ll kick some ass and take names.”

“I know.” Aubrey’s the closest thing I have to a best friend here. Natasha knows everything and she’s hell-bent on Braden not being a topic of conversation anymore. We’ve moved past that point in our lives. I could really use the insight from a semi-neutral third party. “Braden’s a narcissistic bastard. When I couldn’t take his shit anymore, I left and took all of my insecurities with me. I’m trying so—”

“No, stop. I get it, honey.” Aubrey jerks me into a hug, rubbing my back. I clamp my eyes shut, warding off tears that threaten to ruin my perfect eyeliner and fake-lashed glory. I want to go out with Kyle tonight even if one of Braden’s ten thousand
friends
sees me with some other guy.

“Can we have our own date night?” She tips my chin up. Her pearly white teeth sparkle as she blots a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Of course … ” I pause and raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t expect you to tell me anything else, sweetie. But, I would like to know more about
you
,
outside of your love for rocket-fuel coffee and wearing leggings every single day.” She laughs, taking my hand.

Kyle’s name rolls across the screen of my phone and my chest seizes with nerves. “Hey.”

“Hey, I’m here. You didn’t answer your door.” He laughs, the smooth, deep chuckle running over my skin like a feather.

Aubrey shoves me again, shaking her hands in front of her face, doing her best silent
squee
. I smile so wide my cheeks hurt.

“Sorry, I’m running late. I’m at Aubrey’s. I’ll be there in a minute.” I can’t stop my grin.

“Good because I can’t wait to see you.” He ends the call before I can respond, and now everything heats inside me to a dull ache.

Aubrey hands me a shot of something clear that tastes like gasoline and scoots me out the door, and I do deep-breathing exercises on the short walk to meet him. I think the shot calmed my nerves twentyfold.

Or maybe it’s him.

Before I step into the back lobby of my apartment, my breath catches in my throat. Kyle’s back is facing me and the stems of flowers peek out from the side. His dark fitted jeans hug his legs like the most tailored glove and his ever-present knee brace is gone for the occasion. His black dress shirt is without a wrinkle and I even catch some uniformity to the back of his hair, which is normally a disheveled mess.

As I take my first step, he turns around.
Haircut and a side part. Hello.
The giant bouquet of tropical blooms in every color imaginable turns my legs to mush. The amount of flowers he’s bought me is overwhelming. It’s his thing, apparently. Between the sunflowers the first day we met and then the peonies, I could get used to this. I don’t mind it either because looking at them always calms me down. My next step is carefully planted so I don’t bust my ass on the linoleum floor. Also because it takes my mind off jumping up and down like a child.

“Olivia.” He breathes with a smile so big and beautiful I almost tear up again. His eyes rove up and down my body. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you. So do you! Very handsome.” My face heats up, I’m sure plastering my cheeks with a red so vibrant, slathering blood on them would be less obvious. I adjust his already perfect collar as he tugs me into him, the cellophane of the flowers crackling between us like popcorn.

“These are for you. I hope you like them.” He kisses the corner of my mouth as his hand travels a little lower down my back.

“I love them.” I bring them up to my nose, breathing them deep. As I inspect them further, a burst of purple peeks out from under a giant bloom. I push it aside, revealing two gorgeous irises. I’m immediately brought back to the first time I went to Kyle’s apartment.

Iris Avery Botany Foundation.
Why is he so cute?

“Let me put them in water?” I ask, taking his hand and walking toward the staircase.

“Of course.” He tugs me into his side, kissing the top of my head. I nestle into his chest, relishing the sentiment.

Braden never did anything nice for me. I never received flowers or was told I looked beautiful. Kyle’s memaw must have done a job on him because right now, he’s perfect.

***

Leave it to Kyle to find the most perfect Cajun restaurant. My heels click against the worn wooden floor as the hostess leads us to our seats. Kyle pulls out an equally worn wooden chair for me, pushing it in a little as I sit. The hostess gives me a
lucky bitch
wink as she drops the menus on the table.

The soft twangs of a blues guitarist float through the air and the smell of crawfish and shrimp make my mouth water. I was so nervous about our date all morning, I didn’t eat breakfast and downed four cups of coffee instead. I scan the menu; the price tag contrasts immensely with the backwoods ambiance. The cheapest entrée is over thirty bucks, and a bowl of soup is the price of an entire meal at our usual pub.

“What are you going to get?” I ask, fully intending to use it as a price point.

I’ve never eaten salad with him. He’ll know I’m full of shit if I pick the cheapest thing on the menu.

Kyle laughs, taking my hand. “Do you trust me?”

I choke on my own breath and take a sip of water. When my gaze meets his, he raises an eyebrow. I know he didn’t mean the question with any life-changing intent behind it, but it still makes me nervous. Almost every person has made me question whether or not I can trust them. Kyle has never given me a reason not to, especially with everything that happened this weekend.

“Of course.” I squeeze his hand and scoot closer.

“Are you sure?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. His dark eyebrows knit so closely, I think they’re about to stitch together.

Woman up, Olivia.

“I trust you.” I nod my head with a quick reassurance. “Not just with food, but with everything.”

“That’s huge for you, isn’t it?” He grins, but the way his skin loses half its pigment makes me think I was a little overzealous. But I love it that he doesn’t push further. He can always sense when I’m at my limit for the day.

“Yes.” I tuck my hair behind my ears and tug on the ends.

What should I start with?

A voluptuous waitress in her midforties with bleached and teased hair piled to the sky glides to our table. She rattles off a few specials, and my stomach growls.

“I saw the Chef’s choice for this evening online. We’ll have that for two. Lemon on the side, none used in the dishes.” Kyle smiles, squeezing my hand. I never told him I despise lemons, but I’m also not shocked he noticed. “And the 2008 Malbec,” he adds, handing her the menus.

“I’m Ginny if you need anything else.” She does a double take in my direction.

“Thank you.” The tone of my voice reaches sickeningly sweet laced with a jab. Not that I feel intimidated, what with the way Kyle is staring at me like he’s about to drag me across the table at any moment.

I wouldn’t mind.

When the wine arrives at our table, I breathe in the heady aromas of blackberry and currants. It tastes like velvet on my tongue as I suck back a long sip, way more than I should for something that deserves to be appreciated. A deep
mmmm
escapes me, and Kyle smiles.

“So good, right?” He raises his glass and my face falls. I should have waited for him to try it, even though the resident sommelier offered my glass first.

“Yes, it’s delicious. I get nightmarish heartburn from red wine, but this is out of this world.” I clink his glass and hold it close to my chest as he takes another taste.

“Should I have gotten white?” He frowns a little and I shake my head.

“No, only from Cabs,” I insist. I take another sip and wish we were in a booth so I could be closer to him. “So why this place?”

“Well, I know it’s a little rough around the edges, but it has a good heart. Once you get to know the workings of its components, it’s definitely something special.” He smiles at me. “I heard the food is good, too.”

Staaaahp it.

I blush, and I don’t care that the people down the street could probably see it. We talk through the rest of dinner, laughter abundant and frequent. Although the conversation isn’t deep, it’s nice to know the little things about him. Like about how he and Cam became friends when they were in elementary school and that he’s deathly allergic to bees.

We polish off our second bottle of wine and I’m having heartburn over the price tag, let alone the rest of our meal. I know he has money—a
lot
of money—but it still makes me uncomfortable when he spends it on me.

“So …” He drops his head, staring at the table. “I wanted to tell you something.”

“Yeah?” I reach across the table and take his hand. There’s a lull and another blues guitarist starts a slow melody.

Kyle shakes his head, almost like he’s pushing something away, and nods to the floor. “Want to dance?”

I smile as he helps me out of the chair. When we walk onto the dance floor, he leans in, kissing me as sweetly as ever. His hand cradles my face, rubbing my jawline with his thumb. His lips move like an orchestra, barely brushing mine at times and his tongue grazes mine with the lightest touch. I step in, letting him hold me even closer.

“Olivia, I’m falling for you … hard.” He pecks my lips and I bury my face into the crook of his neck.

Me too, but I need to tell you everything first. And I don’t know how.

Chapter Twelve

Not as It Seems

Kyle

Olivia looks beyond stunning in her deep purple silk top and the tightest jeans I’ve ever seen hugging her ass like they’re painted on. But my favorite part is her black, spiked heels. They must be at least five inches tall because her lips are the perfect height from mine and I don’t have to stoop forward to kiss her.

All I want to do is kiss her. Everywhere.

While she keeps those shoes on.

We walk out of the restaurant, my hand brushing the soft skin under the hem of her shirt as she wraps her arm around my waist. She smells like pineapples and sugar, which makes me
really
want her for dessert.

“I had a wonderful time,” she says, pulling herself closer. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Me too.” I’ve been trying to tell her all night about what happened to me in North Carolina, but I couldn’t get the balls to do it. Since she’s always been weird about hanging out at her apartment, I figure my next best option is asking her to come back to my place, but I don’t want her to freak and think I’m only trying to hook up with her.

Although
…

I take a deep breath and hold it for a second. I open the car door for her and stand in the doorway, still weighing my options.

“Are you okay?” She takes my hand. “You’ve been super quiet the last twenty minutes.”

I nod and tuck her hair behind her ear, running my thumb over her cheekbone. “I really need to tell you something.”

“Is Natasha okay? Did your dad call?” Her posture shoots up, her back straightening like an arrow.

“She’s fine. It’s about me.” I take both her hands, kissing her knuckles.
Well, she isn’t fine because some dickwad tried to kidnap her to get to you.
“Do you want to come back to my place?”

She blushes a little, looking down at her hands, which I’m still holding. “Kyle, I’m really not ready to … uhm … ” She shakes her head. “When I crashed at your apartment, it was great, but it was … different then.”

“Just to talk.” I lean in, pressing my lips to hers once, giving her a short kiss.

“I have to be at the studio early tomorrow, so I can’t stay late.” She smiles and swings her legs inside the car. I close the door, hoping she doesn’t hate me for being the last one to know about my past.

I love how she tugs my hand over as she holds it, resting it on her thigh. We don’t say much on the ride back, and I’ve never been more okay with silence. As the elevator climbs up to my floor, the blurred reflection of us spurs something deep inside. I love how we look together. She fits perfectly against me and complements so many things I’ve been missing but could never place.