Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(12)

To my complete surprise, Gabe was walking to the door at the same time. I would have sworn he’d sleep until this evening and only get up to eat and have a do-over of his drug-and-alcohol-infused night. I shivered at the thought. This man once made me shiver for completely different reasons. He still had that effect on women, with his toned body, striking features, and invented smile.

“You expecting company?” he asked, already looking through the peephole.

“Not until later today,” I said slowly, looking around as if the white walls were going to tell me the time. A thought struck me as I picked up the pace and stood beside Gabe. “Oh, shit. What time is it?”

“Do you know this guy?” he asked as we reached the door.

I unlocked the door and opened it, ignoring his question. Victor stood on the other side of the threshold with a confused look on his face as his eyes bounced from Gabe to me, me to Gabe, and finally me again.

“Come in,” I said, and moved toward Gabe so he had no choice but to take a step back and make room for Victor to enter.

I closed the door behind him and stood there as the two of them greeted each other.

“We’ll be out back. Finish cleaning up your mess,” I called out over my shoulder as I walked toward the living room, knowing Victor would follow.

I walked until I reached the back doors and opened them so we could sit out on the porch, where I found a single silver stiletto.

“Who the hell leaves one shoe behind at a party?” I muttered, picking it up by the strap and tossing it aside.

“Cinderella?” Victor said behind me as he closed the French doors.

I felt myself smile. He’d always been funny. Strange and intense and funny. He was the kind of guy that could have you pinned against the wall one second and kick you out of his office the next but not let you think he was kicking you out. He’d let you think you came up with the decision to leave on your own. I hadn’t seen it then as manipulation, but now that I looked back on it . . . Either way, I always appreciated the short time we had together, especially the night I’d called him due to a flat tire and he’d bolted out of the bar he was in to come help me. I’d never forget the way he shook his head as he looked at me through angry eyes.

“You can’t be going out at night dressed like that,” he’d said, and I could tell he was trying not to look at me.

After he fixed my tire and followed me home, I’d wondered if he’d go inside with me, but he hadn’t. A part of me knew he wouldn’t, of course. I’d been living in my father’s guest house. What would Dad have thought if he’d seen the new attorney he’d just hired walk into his daughter’s quarters at midnight? A bigger part of me had wished we hadn’t been in that situation at all. That I was just a girl, and he was just a hot guy who was okay with taking chances. But we hadn’t been those people.

I pushed the memory aside and sat on one of the chairs, watching as he sat across from me. He was dressed down today, which apparently for Victor meant jeans, a checkered button-up, and Oxfords. His normally playful eyes looked tired and the rough scruff on his face suggested he hadn’t shaved in days. He ran a hand through his hair and brushed it back in a way that made me try to fix my own and redo my ponytail.

“Rough night?” he asked, his eyes roaming over me.

“You can say that.”

I fidgeted with my hair again, even though I knew there was no use. I suddenly felt completely aware of what I looked like in my black sports bra, matching yoga pants, and makeup-less face. He’d seen me in a form-fitting navy dress and sky-high heels a couple days ago. In fact, most of the times he’d seen me I had been dressed to impress, and even when we’d had sex, we’d both remained mostly dressed. I wondered what a naked Victor looked like. It was a fleeting thought, but it was one that made me flush. I swallowed when our gazes locked, feeling like I’d been caught in my sexual fantasy.

“Nicole,” he said, a warning, but he kept that tempestuous gaze locked on mine and I knew he felt the same electric prickle I felt all over.

“Isn’t it weird for you?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

Victor appraised me for a long moment, tilting his head as his inquisitive eyes scanned my face. I would have killed to know what he was thinking. I would have killed to ask. But I couldn’t. I sat there, wondering, hoping he’d answer, waiting on bated breath for it. I leaned in a little, and he mimicked my movement, putting his elbows on his knees, letting his hands dangle between them.

“It’s weirder than I thought it would be,” he admitted, his gaze searing into mine. “I keep reminding myself that the Nicole I once knew isn’t the same one sitting in front of me.”

“What makes you say that?”

He leaned back in his chair and looked at the house, the pool, and back at me. “All this. The Nicole I knew didn’t need the big house or the husband.”

My heart skipped. The Nicole he knew was a damn liar. Another thing I wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead I took a different approach.

“Maybe the Nicole you knew wanted you to ask her out on a real date.”

“Maybe the Nicole I knew should have asked me on a date herself.” His lip curled up into a sly smile. “She didn’t have a problem asking for other things.”

My cheeks blazed. “I didn’t think you wanted to date.”