Dane's Storm(33)

I smiled around a cold bite of the lemon gelato that was both sweet and tart, as a white poodle pranced by on the sidewalk, looking as if it was grinning. When I looked back at Dane, he was watching me with a small smile as he used his thumb to rub along his bottom lip. Oh. My belly clenched, and I blinked, the familiarity of that expression suddenly gripping me and making me feel warm but also slightly panicked. I swallowed but somehow couldn’t find it in myself to look away. I felt caught in his gaze, the same way I had earlier in the restaurant. The world seemed to disappear around us and it was only him and those beautiful green eyes I’d gotten so lost in long ago. So lost in it’d taken me seven years to claw my way back to a place where I could finally catch my breath. With effort, I dragged my eyes away, knowing I had to. Knowing it was the only choice.

“It’s still there between us, isn’t it?” Dane asked softly.

“W-what?” I asked, and my voice sounded too breathy, filled with the fear suddenly trickling through my veins.

He leaned forward, putting his forearms on the table so we were face to face, eye to eye. “That damn attraction that never went away even when we were drowning in grief, even now after so long of being apart. It’s still there as strong as it ever was, isn’t it, Audra?”

I stood, my chair scraping the cement. “We should go. I”—I shook my head—“I mean, you said we’re leaving early tomorrow morning—”

“Audra.” Dane stood, taking one step so he was in front of me. He took my upper arms in his hands and even as he steadied me, his touch also caused me to feel more off kilter.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, pulling away. “Attraction doesn’t matter. It never solved anything. It didn’t help us when times got . . . hard. It’s just . . . it’s just chemistry and lots of people have it, Dane.” And the truth was, all it did was hurt now because it wasn’t enough. Not then and not now.

He stared at me for a few heartbeats then let go of my arms.

A couple came through the door from the shop, cups of gelato in hand, laughing. Their appearance broke the spell I was under, and the world around us burst forth in sudden movement and noise, along with a jolt of indignation. I turned and began making my way through the tables to the low gate with an opening to the sidewalk.

I heard Dane following, and then he caught up with me as I turned, heading toward his car. “Audra, slow down.”

“No. I want to get back to my room. I need to pack.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll change the subject.”

“Thank you.”

“Just slow down. I’m not wearing my running shoes.”

I took in a deep breath through my nose and slowed my pace. I came to a stop in the doorway of a closed shop and turned to Dane. He seemed surprised but stopped as well, looking at me expectantly. “Listen, Dane. This is hard enough as it is, seeing you again. I think it’s natural that some old feelings surface, but . . . we obviously both know that nothing can happen between us again, and so even to acknowledge some remnants of chemistry just feels . . . pointless and uncomfortable.”

His eyes narrowed, and he stared at me for a few moments before finally breathing out and running a hand through his dark hair. “Fine. You make the rules, Audra. You always did.”

He turned to start walking toward the car again and I instinctively followed, joining him on the sidewalk. “What does that mean?”

“What we could talk about, what subjects were off limits, when to leave you alone, how hard to knock at the doors you locked yourself behind. Your rules, never negotiable.”

“I never spelled out any rules!”

“You didn’t have to spell them out in words. You didn’t have to make a list. Your actions spoke louder than words. Stay away. I don’t need you.”

What was he talking about? That’s not how it had been at all. Of course I’d needed him, but there had been no point asking. We’d been on completely different pages. I had been drowning in an isolated sea of grief, and he’d been . . . fine. He’d managed and I could barely put one foot in front of the other. And, damn it to hell, I didn’t want to think about that. I was past that—finally, blessedly—and I had no interest in going back. I felt filled with sudden and overwhelming anger.

We drove in heavy silence for the first ten minutes as my anger started to fade then fizzled entirely. I sighed, leaning back, turning toward Dane. When he met my gaze, his expression had softened. “We’re a hot mess together, aren’t we?” I murmured. “Another good reminder of why parting ways was the right choice.”

He smiled, though sort of sadly. “I suppose.” I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but I was exhausted and ready to get off this roller coaster. None of this was worth rehashing, and I’d said as much earlier, and yet we couldn’t seem to stop doing it. If I’d needed a reminder about why I hadn’t wanted even a small update on Dane or what his life was like all these years, this was it. And thank God I hadn’t known about him and Winnie. Perfect Winnie Sinclair, whom his grandmother was always trying to set him up with. When Dane mentioned her name I thought I’d be sick. To think they almost made a perfect home together . . . slept together . . .

No.

I wanted my quiet, peaceful life back, free from information about Dane and Winnie Sinclair. And I worried that even if Luella backed off my business, I’d lost something I’d never find again. The life I’d carved out for myself suddenly felt like a mirage whereas before all this, it’d felt real and right. Good God, seeing Dane again was messing with my head. Messing with my carefully held-together life.