Do You Take This Man (25)

His sincerity was jarring, the way he held eye contact unsettling some expectations I had of him. I didn’t like being surprised, and I glanced away. I wasn’t sure how I’d thought he’d respond, but that wasn’t it. “It’s not the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Still. I am sorry,” he said. Then silence descended on our table, and I was calculating how fast I could eat the cake and gulp my coffee and get out of there when Lear crossed his forearms, leaning forward on the table. “So, you, uh, had a dream about me? Is that why you almost jumped me last weekend?” His smirk was subtle, eyebrows raised, the humble expression from before gone.

“I apologize, too. For making you uncomfortable. That was unprofessional and inappropriate.”

Lear chuckled and held out his palms. “Oh, I wasn’t uncomfortable. I was very comfortable. Just surprised. I didn’t think you liked me.” He licked a crumb off his lip, and I threatened myself with a lifelong vibrator ban if I let my eyes linger on his tongue.

“I don’t like you,” I said before taking a big bite of the cake, which was sinfully good, a little too close to how I imagined it would be with Lear.

“Do you often cling to people you don’t like?” He took another bite and, again, inside my head I snapped my fingers like a mom on the phone, quieting my thoughts.

“I wasn’t clinging, and it’s not a habit, no.” Please, for the love of God, just leave me alone.

“For the record, I’d be okay with it being a habit.”

I clenched my jaw and my thighs. “Well, it won’t be. Again, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” I threw back the rest of my coffee, though it was still far too hot, but my throat would forgive me. I felt the caffeine working its way through my bloodstream.

I shifted in my seat, preparing to gather my things and get out of there, because the smell of his cologne took me back to being pressed against him.

“Sounds like you know what came over you.” He shrugged. “Must have been a good dream.”

I’m crawling into a hole and making a new life there. “How much of my conversation were you eavesdropping on?”

“You’re in a coffee shop. It’s not exactly private, but not much,” he said, taking a last swig of his water before reaching for our trash. “Just the part where you said I was skillful in your sex dream.” He walked away from the table to drop our things in the garbage can, leaving his words floating in his wake. He tipped his chin down as he returned, pitching his voice low. “What was I so good at, RJ?”

I hurriedly pushed my laptop into my bag and stood, dropping my phone and AirPods into the side pocket. Lear strolled back to the table, and I brushed crumbs down the front of my shirt, his gaze following the movement of my hand. Which, of course, set my mind off down the forbidden path. I ignored his question despite the memory of the dream playing at the edges of my thoughts. “I need to get to the office.”

“On a Sunday? You’re kind of a machine, huh?”

I’d heard that before, usually with some derision or sarcasm. Case, himself a devotee of corporate culture, said it as ammunition; my friends said it kindly, but always followed by the idea that I should take a break. Lear said it like he was genuinely interested, and maybe a little impressed. “Big case,” I said, avoiding eye contact again. “Thank you for the cake.”

“I’m heading out, too. Which way are you going?” He held out a hand, motioning for me to walk ahead. He didn’t say more, which felt weightier than the questions at the table as we strolled toward the exit. But I didn’t like loose ends, particularly those ends that meant Lear Campbell knew I’d fantasized about him.

Outside, the air was dewy, just on the comfortable side of humid, and Lear walked near me, our arms occasionally brushing. “Listen,” I said as we reached the corner, “we work together. I shouldn’t have touched you, and the dream was just a dream. We should drop this, okay?”

He met my eyes and slowed our pace. “Thank you for apologizing earlier and, to be clear, I was right there with you in that alcove, but, yes, we can drop it.” He looked forward again, then surveyed the mostly quiet street. He smelled sweaty, with a hint of something inviting underneath.

“But, RJ, before we drop it,” Lear said, pushing the button to cross the street opposite from me, his body still close to mine. My gaze lingered on the button—I hadn’t pushed my own, since the streets were so empty. The heat from him was a subtle reminder we were standing too close, and I stepped back before he finished. “I’m just saying that . . . if you want to find out if the dream compares to reality, I’d be open to appeasing your curiosity.”

The light changed, and he gave me another grin before taking two steps backward and jogging the length of the crosswalk, leaving me standing on the corner. “We’re dropping it,” I called after him.

He’d reached the other side of the street and waved. “See you next weekend, RJ!”





Chapter 14


Lear





THE COUPLE KISSED, to the whoops and cheers of their friends and family. When Penny initially briefed me on the gas station wedding, I’d thought it was a metaphor. As I stood on the edge of the crowd near an ancient pump, I appreciated that it was unique. The couple had met while filling up in the rain, and they wanted their ceremony to take place right there. It was a small gas station in a rural area and backed up to an open field, where tables covered in board games and snacks sat under a tent. The couple wanted different. I had to hand it to Penny. This could have been cheesy and kitschy, but it was perfect.