She also didn’t have men look at her the way that Liam did.
And . . . she found she didn’t want it to stop.
Like it inevitably would if she went out to dinner with him.
If she could just capture this moment, bottle it and tuck it on a shelf for safekeeping, if she could just pretend for one day, one hour that this man might actually like her when he came to know her, that he wouldn’t mind the lack of fluff, the sharp edges and occasional sharp tone—
Then what?
She’d be worthy?
A sick, black feeling crept down her spine.
His palm slid from covering her hand, across the outside of her wrist, up her forearm, slowly crawling over her skin until he cupped her cheek. “I would in a second,” he said, “but I don’t think that’s what you really want.”
It was instinct to break away.
“You should go,” she said, eyes on the mat, back to him. “You should just go, now.” Before he got to know her. Before he was disappointed by her. Before he found out—
A pause. Then, “Before I find out what?”
Mia whirled around, horror coursing through her. She hadn’t said the last part of her thinking aloud, she hadn’t.
She. Hadn’t.
His eyes didn’t hold revulsion and that more than anything, told her she hadn’t said it, hadn’t hinted at the truth that continued to eat her alive. And yet this man knew she was hiding something. Knew she was running from the pain of her past.
Because she might not have fluff, but she sure as shit had secrets.
Painful secrets that had honed her to a sharp, cutting edge.
“I know this is crazy,” he said, voice careful. “I know we’re strangers and I shouldn’t care what’s going on in your head. I know you think my interest is because you helped me or because I’m some creep who needs to get laid.” He took a step toward her, stopped when her breath caught audibly. “But it’s not that.”
She didn’t move, though her pulse was pounding in her veins. “What then?”
“I looked into your eyes, and I saw . . .”
Her lungs froze. Her mouth went dry.
Mia waited for him to finish the trailed off sentence, waited an eternity it seemed before he inhaled and said, “I looked into your eyes, and I saw . . . me.”
She frowned.
“I know,” he said, volume dropping, almost as if he was talking to himself. “It makes no sense. This sounds like something out of a bad romcom movie, and plus, who knows how long I’ll even be in California? My contract probably won’t be renewed. I’ll just be some unemployed nobody who—” Liam physically shook himself. “Yeah, so that’s it. I saw you, felt like some part of me knew some part of you—” He cut himself off with a derisive snort. “Know what? I’m just going to stop there.”
Her throat had closed up, stifling any words that might come out.
She’d felt it, too.
She felt it now.
Drawn to this man in a way that made no sense. A way that made her want to forget everything she’d learned about herself up to this point, to throw caution to the wind. But . . .
She couldn’t.
He might like her now and be drawn to her, but sooner or later he’d see what was inside her, and he’d—
“I’ll go,” he said, turning for the door.
Slice.
That movement cut through her, pierced right through the protective coating surrounding her, and Mia found words coming out of her mouth before she rationally processed them.
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t go.”
He stopped, turned to face her, and those words that had blurted out so freely disappeared on her, nothing further coming out. Instead, she just stood there like a mute robot, unable to push anything else from between her lips.
An itchy, unbearable agony began to fill her.
Say something! This was her job—to have the words, to give directions. Instead, she was just staring at him like a puppet who’d lost her master and was reduced to a limp pile of fabric and strings.
“Want to take a walk?”
His question made the itchy feeling fade, the stifling blackness that was making it impossible for her to form words disappear. She considered him for a second, thought of what she might do if he left or if she told him no and returned to the apartment. Everything would stay the same. Nothing would change. And she’d miss out . . . on what?
That she wasn’t sure of.
All she knew was that she didn’t want to.
Mia bit the inside of her cheek then sucked in a slow, even breath. A heartbeat later, she went with her instincts and said, “Okay.”
“Okay.” He smiled, the visceral impact of that a punch to the gut, before he grabbed the remaining coffee cup, and moved to the door, holding it open. Mia took a step toward him, felt a gust of cold morning air, so she veered off and made a pit stop at her office, snagging the sweatshirt she always kept there, along with the spare front door key, and slipped the sweatshirt over her head.
“Good?” he asked when she’d crossed back over to him.
She nodded.
He waved a hand forward, indicating she should precede him through the door. But when she did, she felt his fingers on her nape, tugging free the end of her ponytail that was trapped beneath the collar of her sweatshirt.
“Okay?” he asked, voice soft, sticking to the one-word questions, which, honestly, was preferred for her psyche at the moment. Heat had exploded through her from the simple contact, the light brush of his fingers along the back of her neck making her shiver, and she found she could barely process the word, let alone form words.
Instead, she merely nodded again, let him hold the door for her, and moved out onto the sidewalk.
He stepped out, too, and released the handle, waiting as she locked up. After she had, she glanced at his handsome face, saw the bruise on his jaw, still forming. It was already black and blue and would be all sorts of shades of purple before the day was out.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.” Liam’s gaze met hers, and guilt tore through her. “Last night. I—”
She shouldn’t have hit him.
“Don’t ever apologize for protecting yourself.” His fingers trailed lightly down her arm, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. “I had it coming.”
She bit her lip. “Maybe.”
That smile went grin and he tilted his head forward, started walking . . . and as she fell into step beside him, she started thinking again. Why was she going off with a man she didn’t know? She’d yell at her students for even considering the idea.
But then Liam took her hand.
The thoughts quieted.
The sharp edges were smoothed out.
And . . . she walked.
“We absolutely cannot be here,” Mia said.
“Why not?”
“Why not?” She stamped her foot. Yes, literally stamped her foot on the cracked sidewalk. “Why not?”
Liam still held her hand, their fingers interlaced as they had been for the entire time they’d walked. At first, she’d thought they were just wandering, but then she realized he was leading her to a specific destination, up through the residential area that abutted the studio, winding through the houses and apartments until he’d led her to a small park.