Erasing Faith(37)

She’d been beautiful, that day.

Tonight, though… she was breathtaking.

The dress was part of it. That body, that hair, that smile — there weren’t enough cold showers in the world to wash off their effect on me. If I looked at her for longer than ten consecutive seconds, walking became a bit of an issue and I was forced to recite the Gettysburg Address over and over in my head until thoughts of what she’d look like with that dress pooled around her ankles had been banished to the back of my mind. Hard-ons notwithstanding, the thing that hit me heaviest, the part that really knocked the breath from my lungs, was the fact that I’d been wrong that day on the riverbank.

Inside, Faith Morrissey was just as gorgeous as she was outside.

She didn’t push me to talk about my family. She switched gears to lighter subjects, discussing her history course load and peppering me with questions about the medical research I was supposedly doing for work here. My answers were well-rehearsed — just enough information to sound credible, but boring enough to dissuade her from digging too deep.

By the time we reached her apartment, Faith was yawning.

“Tired, Red?”

She nodded sleepily. “My shift was long.”

“Lots of deliveries?”

“Yeah, around fifty. My legs are killing me. And I have another shift tomorrow morning, followed by several hours of Professor Varga’s lectures.”

“What about tomorrow night?”

She glanced up sharply, a slight smirk twisting her lips. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” I shrugged, shoving my free hand into the pocket of my pants. “Just wondering what your plans are.”

“Are you trying to ask me out on another date?”

“Absolutely not.” I shook my head in swift denial.

“Oh, right,” she murmured, grinning wryly at me. “Because you don’t ask girls on dates — you just ambush them with surprise dresses and magical evenings at five-star restaurants.”

“Essentially.”

“Well, then, if you won’t man up, I’ll just have to be the one wearing the pants in this relationship,” she said decidedly.

I raised my eyebrows, amused.

“Wes Adams, will you go out on a date with me tomorrow night?” Her tone was flippant, but her eyes revealed deep underlying insecurity that I might reject her. I wanted to erase that look more than I’d ever wanted anything in this life.

“Well, Faith Morrissey, that depends.”

“On?”

“On whether you’re going to steal my dinner again,” I said in a serious voice. “I mean, I’m trying to watch my girlish figure. I can’t go around eating steaks every night just because you’re too stubborn to change your order.”

Her mouth dropped open in indignation. “I did not steal your dinner! You forced it on me!”

“Red.”

“The idea that I would steal your dinner is just, well…”

“Red.”

“It’s just wrong, Wes! It’s wro—”

“Faith.” I stepped forward into her space and watched as the words died on her tongue.

“Yes?” she squeaked, her face mere inches from mine. Her gaze darted from my eyes to my mouth and back again.

I cracked an involuntary grin. She was so f*cking cute. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said simply. “Seven o’clock.”

“Okay,” she breathed.

Before she could move, I leaned in and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. She seemed to melt a little at the contact, her hands dropping limply to her sides and the tension uncoiling from her shoulders. I transferred the bike into her pliant hands, slid the messenger bag off my shoulder, and looped it over the nearest handlebar.

“Goodnight, Red.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered, blushing furiously as she watched me walk away. I got about ten steps from her stoop before her voice called out again. “Hey, Wes!”

I couldn’t help but smile as I turned back to face her. “What is it, Red?”

She smiled too, and her whole face lit up. “Thanks for dinner. It was the best surprise I’ve ever had.”

Tossing a wink in her direction, I turned and disappeared into the night, determined not to think about her eyes or her mouth or any other distracting parts of her anatomy. I walked away and resolutely ignored the way her words, her smile, her laugh, her very presence seemed to fill those empty parts of me with something pure.

Something better.





Chapter Nineteen: FAITH


CAST AWAY



I closed the door behind me, leaned my bike against the living room wall, and collapsed onto the sofa with a deep, dreamy sigh. I’d been seated about five seconds when the door to Margot’s bedroom flew open and she was there next to me, launching herself onto the couch with an expectant look on her face.

“Tell me everything,” she demanded.

I giggled.

“I’m serious! Tell me. I want details. How was it?”

I looked up at the slow-paddling ceiling fan as a huge grin split my face in two. “Amazing.”

Margot squealed and threw her arms around me. “Yay! Ohmigod, I’m so relieved you had a good time. Then again, how could you not with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Ridiculously Handsome at your side? He is delectable. Seriously. When I met him for coffee, it was hard to keep my eyes off him — and there was a chocolate croissant on my plate. Fierce competition.”