Love the One You're With (Sex, Love & Stiletto 2)

“Hello?” she called.

He emerged from the bathroom, a folded towel in hand.

“Ever heard of an umbrella?” he muttered softly.

He approached her slowly, but instead of handing her the towel, he unfolded it and hesitantly raised it to her damp hair, dabbing at her soaked ponytail. Wordlessly he pulled the band out of her hair, letting the damp strands fall around her shoulders as he gently rubbed the excess water out.

It was a strange, intimate moment with nothing but the patter of rain on the window to disrupt the tense silence.

“I’m sorry I didn’t show up last night,” she said quietly when he finally stepped back. He said nothing.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t call,” she pressed on. “Or text … or do any of the things a decent person would do when they stand someone up.”

He tossed the towel on the back of his chair before setting a hand on his waist and rubbing the other through his own damp hair with a sigh.

Finally he met her eyes. “You know, I’d planned to play it cool. I wanted to tell you that it didn’t matter, and that I barely noticed. Maybe even imply that I found other company.”

She gave a little nod. “That’s kind of what I was expecting, actually.”

Jake gave a rueful smile. “See, this is what happens when two so-called relationship experts try to date. It’s all one big game.”

“It’s not all one big game,” she said, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. At first it was my ego that was bruised, because I’d been so sure you’d show, and well … we both know I’m always right. Then I just got mad. Eating Chinese food alone was a first for me.”

“You poor baby.”

He gave her a flash of smile. “It was confusing, not being adored and fawned upon.”

She moved toward him slowly, her hands settling on his waist. “I could fawn over you now.”

“Maybe. First I want to know what happened.”

“What?” She carefully hid her surge of surprise.

“It wasn’t cold feet last night, was it? And it wasn’t part of the website thing. Something kept you.”

Grace closed her eyes briefly. She wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet. But when she opened her eyes and his gaze was watching her with quiet understanding, she found she did want to talk about it. She wanted to talk about it with this compelling and playful man who dried her hair even when he was mad.

Then, to her horror, her eyes started to water. She didn’t even know why; it was just one of those chin-wobbling, throat-aching moments when life simply became too much.

He gathered her gently to him, tucking her head beneath his chin as she burrowed against his bare chest.

“Tell me.”

She swallowed through the lump in her chest. “It’s stupid. Nothing worth crying over.”

“Obviously it is,” he said softly.

“No, trust me. This one really isn’t.”

He remained steadily silent, starting to rub her back before he froze and pulled back. “Your clothes are soaked. You didn’t even have a jacket?”

Grace shrugged. “I wasn’t really myself this morning. I think somehow I just thought I needed to get here. That this would make it all better.”

That you would make it all better.

“And is it working?” he asked, his fingers gripping her chin and tilting her face up. “Is it better?”