Fight to the Finish (First to Fight #3)(8)
She blushed, then continued scraping off the totally clean coffee table. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“Why do I make you nervous?”
She jolted, as if he’d touched her with a hot poker instead of just asking her a question. “I’m not nervous,” she lied, not making eye contact. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re cleaning the coffee table instead of looking at me. You’ve been trying to push me out the door since I got here. And you don’t want to be alone with me. Why? What is it about me that freaks you out?”
“I’m not freaked out by you.” She stood and gave him her back as she walked to the trash can with cupped palms and dusted the crumbs into the trash can. “I’m just not sure being alone like this is wise. Nothing can happen, and I don’t want to accidentally encourage you, so . . .” She looked back at him, hands in the air in defeat. Her eyes were sad, like she regretted it more than she could voice.
“Kara.” He spoke softly, and she instinctively walked to him on bare feet. “Kara, nothing has happened. I’m trying not to push you.”
“I know that. And I appreciate it.” She halted a foot away. “More than you know.”
“But at this speed, we might make it to our first date when we’re eligible for the early bird special. I like you. I hate games, so I’m telling you now, I like you.”
There. Cards laid out. He wasn’t kidding. Games were the worst. He watched game players all day in his office, and he did everything he could to avoid the bullshit in his personal life.
She swallowed, and he took a half step toward her. Closing the gap slowly enough she could move back if she needed to. But she didn’t move back, only tilted her head up slightly to look at him. “Graham . . .”
His lips quirked. “Kara.”
“Graham.” Her voice had softened, almost to a slur, and her eyelids closed a fraction. “I—my phone.”
He hadn’t even heard it ring, he was so lost. “Get it later.”
“I can’t. Zach. Zach’s with a friend.” She patted the pockets of her jean shorts, did quick spins in place looking frantically for the still ringing phone. “Phone! Where’s my phone!”
“Here.” He found it on the floor beside the leg of the table and handed it to her just as it stopped ringing. He waited while she checked the call, then immediately called them back.
“Stacy? Hey, sorry, couldn’t find my phone. Is Zach okay?” She placed a hand to her heart, and Graham dug in his pocket to get his keys ready to roll. If something happened with Zach, he’d be driving her there. No way could she drive if she was panicked about her son.
After a few moments, Kara sagged a bit, shoulders drooping. Her eyes closed and she let out a sigh. “Yeah, definitely. Oreos are one of his main food groups. No, it’s fine, I’m glad you called. You know the deal . . . any questions, always call. I hope the boys are having fun. Sure, I’ll say good night to him.”
Sensing the call was coming to a close, and there was no immediate crisis, Graham decided to give her some privacy. He headed for the door, but as he opened it, he felt her hand on his back.
As he turned around, she leaned forward and gave him a quick hug, phone still up to her ear, then stepped back, out of reach. He smiled slightly, then waved and stepped out just as she said, “Hey, Zach, you doing okay?”
It wasn’t quite how he’d envisioned the evening ending . . . but the spontaneous hug, started by her, would tide him over. For now.
CHAPTER
3
Tuesday morning brought yoga and Marines. Tuesdays were good days. Kara walked in early to the training room, ready for muffins and Marianne time, and stopped short as she caught Nikki, one of Marianne’s trainers, with her butt in the air and her head stuck under the ice machine. Her skintight khaki shorts looked like they were painted on as she wriggled and scooted around.
Kara cleared her throat, heard a muffled, feminine curse, then Nikki emerged from under the machine. Her dark blond hair was pulled back into a messy bun, but not of the fashionably messy variety. There were smudges under her eyes, and her polo had dust on it. The girl was a mess.
“Hi.” She stuck her hands behind her back and rocked back on her heels, looking younger than her early twenties, as Kara knew her to be. She looked like Zach when he’d been caught in the act and wasn’t ready to fess up yet. “Marianne’s not here yet. Did you need something?”
“Hmm.” She couldn’t say what, but something wasn’t quite right. Instead of backing out and waiting for Marianne in the more open gym, Kara let her bag hit the desk chair and settled the muffin basket on the desk. “I’ll just wait in here.”
“Oh, but . . . I’m cleaning.” As if struck by sudden inspiration, Nikki’s baby blue eyes lit with excitement. “I’m cleaning, and the smell . . . you don’t want to sit in here with it. It’ll ruin the taste of your muffins later.”
Kara sniffed delicately. Smelled just like it always did in the mornings before the sweaty Marines invaded the room. Like faded cleanser and plastic. Not the most delightful scent in the world, but not the worst. “I’ll be okay. Just do whatever you need to.”
Nikki’s eyes looked a little panicked, and she searched around before grabbing a rag and dry-wiping down the wall beside the ice machine. Kara huffed quietly and sat on one of the exam tables. She let her clogs clatter to the linoleum floor and stretched out, reaching her toes and holding. There was almost nothing a good stretch and some deep breathing couldn’t solve, as far as she was concerned.