“You could never be invisible. The men in this town are just blind if they don’t see something great right in front of them.”
Xander knew just what to say and just how to say it, but it didn’t help. She’d pushed him away to avoid more heartbreak. Going with him to D.C. never would’ve worked, as much as he’d insisted. He’d had a big life ahead of him that she wasn’t a part of and she’d understood that. She’d needed to stay with her mother and forge a new life without Xander. Finding out she was pregnant a week after he left hadn’t changed anything. It had just made it harder to cope.
“That’s sweet,” she said, “but a girl can’t believe a word you say. You’re one of those slick politicians.”
“Not entirely,” Xander said with a smile. “I’m also an author.” He reached down beside him on the booth and placed a book on the table. “I brought this for you.”
Rose reached out and picked up the book. A grinning, handsome Xander stared back at her from the glossy cover. “Fostering Faith,” she read aloud. “This is great, Xander. Congratulations.”
“It’s about my childhood and the path that brought me to Washington. It ties in with my work at the Fostering Families Center. The center provides support, training and social activities for foster parents and children in the system.”
She cracked open the book and flipped through a few pages. She stopped when she caught a glimpse of her name in the sea of text. “I’m in it?” she asked. Her heart skipped a beat. What on earth would he have written about her in here?
“Yes. I only used your first name, but I couldn’t tell the story of my life without including you. You were such an important part of my high school years.”
His hazel gaze focused on her, making her chest tighten. She didn’t know what to say and even if she had, she couldn’t have spoken when he looked at her like that.
“I autographed it to you,” he added. “That’s why I came down here. I wanted to give it to you in person.”
“Thank you,” she managed. “I look forward to—”
“Have dinner with me,” he blurted out, his eyes widening as though he’d surprised even himself.
The suddenness of his query caught her off guard, too. “I can’t. I have to work.”
Xander frowned. “You work every day?”
“No,” she admitted. “But I’m not off again until Sunday. I figured you’d be long gone from Cornwall by then.”
Xander smiled wide and Rose quickly realized that her alibi wouldn’t be good enough. “As luck would have it,” he said, “I’m going to be in town for a while. A few weeks at least.”
“Oh.” Knowing Xander, he would ask her to dinner every day until she relented. She didn’t have the strength to fight him off for that long.
“So I can take you out to dinner Sunday night?”
No. No, no, no. Her brain could see the problems a mile away. Eventually, she would slip up and say the wrong thing. She’d mention school or Little League or her dad.... That or she’d lose her mind and think it wouldn’t hurt to sleep with him again. Then he would leave and she would be crushed. History could not repeat itself. Her heart couldn’t take it.
Rose caught a whiff of his cologne. It was a warm, spicy scent that reminded her of hot summer nights and foggy windows. “Okay,” she said before she could stop the words. Her body seemed to have different plans from her brain and at the moment, it had control of her vocal cords.
“Great. Where are you living now? I’ll pick you up.”
“You can pick me up here,” she said a touch too quickly, and then felt the need to explain herself. “I live a couple towns over. There’s no sense in you driving all the way out there.” That was true enough, although there were more reasons for not wanting Xander at her apartment.
“Fair enough, although it’s no imposition.”
Rose shook her head and glanced down at her watch. She needed to check on his food, warm up Gary’s and Pete’s coffees, and get some distance between her and Xander so she could think straight again.
“I’d better go grab your burger,” she said sliding out of the booth with the book in her hands. With an awkward parting smile, she disappeared into the kitchen. Safely hidden away, she whacked her forehead against the refrigerator door and groaned.
“Order’s up,” Oscar said, sliding the plate across the counter. “Don’t whack your head so hard you forget which table to take it to.”
Oh, there was no way she was going to forget, no matter how many times she hit her head. She also couldn’t forget that she was an idiot. She was playing with fire. Somehow the idea both thrilled and horrified her. She glanced down at the book in her hands and the handsome face staring back at her before taking a deep, calming breath. It didn’t help. Nothing would.