Blurred (Connections, #3.5)(28)

On the terrace there’s an abundance of small tables with branches as centerpieces stretching as far as I can see, and a dessert bar that goes on for miles. I watch as people line up to fill their plates and then nibble on the small petite fours and mini cake slices on their plate, most of which will just get thrown away—too many calories.

I’m struggling to suck in a breath and push through all this shit. I turn a corner and head into the courtyard area that’s filled with trees and pathways in the shape of mazes. I take the first turn into the foliage. Glowing path lights guide my way and lead me to a wooden gazebo where I halt. There she sits, alone in the dark. The soft lighting from the ground gleams off her hair—she’s gorgeous. She’s still a hundred yards away, but my heart is already thumping out of my chest.

I decide to approach her cautiously, not sure if she’s not going to be happy to see me. Her head is bowed but she straightens up when I approach, peering at me cautiously.

I can see her sad green eyes. “Hey, are you okay?”

She clears her throat and brushes her long hair back over one shoulder. The same memory I’ve revisited a thousand times resurfaces. I can’t push it away . . .

I’m behind her and she swipes her hair to one side, tilting her head so I can kiss her neck. Burying my nose in the curve of her neck, I breathe her in, drawing my tongue down her skin—the smell of citrus and the taste of lemon was so enticing.

I shake it off the best I can as she answers. “Yes, I just needed some air.”

“Mind if I sit? I promise not to get in your way.”

She nods and actually lets out a small laugh.

My main focus as I sit beside her is getting my freaking breathing to steady itself. I try to facilitate the process by leaning down, putting my elbows on my knees. She watches me, her breathing erratic as well, but from her tears, I’m sure.

“Do you need a ride to get your car?”

“No, I’ll figure it out tomorrow,” she answers quietly.

“Did you bring your spare set of keys?”

“Yes, but I don’t feel like dealing with the flat tonight.”

After a moment, my eyes cut to hers. “Who’s the * that’s had his hands all over you tonight?”

Her jaw drops before she manages to pull herself straight up again, her perky tits following as her shoulders move back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I tilt my head closer to her. “The guy in the suit you were showing the clipboard to.”

She huffs. “He’s my boss—and his hands weren’t all over me.”

“Yeah, they were. Did he upset you?”

She sets those full lips into a straight line. “It’s really none of your business.”

I think I struck a nerve. But I need to know if the * is overstepping his bounds. I push on. “Is he bothering you?”

“Ben, it’s nothing I want to talk about with you.”

“Look, if you need someone to help you out, I can.”

“I don’t. He’s my boss and I can handle him.”

I sit up and press my palms against the bench. “Okay, but if you change your mind, let me know.”

“I doubt that; we shouldn’t even be talking.”

“Why is that, Bell?” I intentionally show her I was listening to her earlier, even though I prefer calling her S’belle or Red.

She wraps her arms around herself. “Come on, you know why.”

I take my jacket off, handing it to her. “Here, put this on.”

Her eyes stay glued to mine and when she doesn’t take it, I drape it around her shoulders. “Listen, what I know is that you and I had a thing a long time ago and, yeah, I acted like an * afterward, but that’s not who I am and I think you . . .”

She cuts me off. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What is it then?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes, I guess you do. I’m really not dense, but I’m not catching your drift at all.”

She clutches my jacket and pulls it all the way around her. “Your ex-fiancé married my brother.”

“Yes, she did . . . but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. They shouldn’t impact the two of us talking, especially when we’re thrown together in a work-related social situation.”

Her beautiful green eyes seem to soften. “I’m not mad about that, Ben. I went after you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m not proud of who I was then, but that’s not who I am anymore.”

She lets her head drop until I lift her chin to study her face. “Hey, I’m not sure if I should say this. I really don’t know what’s considered right or wrong in this situation, but that night we shared—it’s one I’ve never forgotten.”

She places her hand over mine and at the gentle touch something surges through my body. I watch as she bites her lip and after a few seconds, she curls her fingers around mine. There are tears in her eyes and I’m not sure if they’re from earlier or fresh. She removes her hand and pulls her chin back as soon as the drops start to fall but the connection between us that threw me lingers on.

“About that night, I shouldn’t have done what I did,” she says in a shaky voice.