Page 20 of It's About Time
My eyes meet his in the mirror as he squirts some gel into his hands, rubbing them together before slicking back his hair and working the product through it. For a split second, watching him do that makes warmth build between my thighs.
Huh. Weird.
I try to shake off the foreign feeling of being turned on by Elliot Thorne.
“I’m fine, Dilynne.”
“Say it like you mean it,” I counter.
He moves his hands through his hair a few more times before picking up his comb again. “Look, it’s been ten months now. Am I ready to date again? Hell no. Tried that and realized it’s not in the cards yet. But I’m not drinking myself to death anymore, I’m back at the gym, and I’m forcing a smile when necessary. So, I think you can call off your take-pity-on-Elliot rescue mission now. Okay?”
“That’s not what this was, and you know it.”
He combs the last strand of his hair in place and then turns around to face me. The white button-down shirt stretches across his chest as he adjusts his slacks on his hips. “Then what was it?”
“How are you feeling about Fletcher and Laney’s wedding?” I ask, avoiding his question.
The clench of his jaw is difficult to miss. “I’m fine.”
“Say fine one more time and I’m going to make a jar for you like Laney used to have for when anyone said Fletcher’s name.”
He rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m handling it. They are two of our friends who absolutely belong together. I’m happy for them, but this is all just reminding me that marriage isn’t something I want to try again, all right?”
I lean forward in my chair, and I catch Elliot’s eyes dipping down to my cleavage before darting to the other side of the room.
Wait, did I imagine that, or did he really just peek at my boobs?
“Okay, and how’s everything else?”
His brows draw together. “Dilynne, don’t you have a business to run?”
I tilt my head to the side. “I do…”
“Then how about you do it? I have meetings and then a long drive to Charlotte.”
“What’s in Charlotte?”
“The community law council I volunteer with,” he replies.
For a second, I don’t know what to say—I had no idea. But learning of this is providing me with a glimpse of this entirely different side of him. “You never told me about that.”
He leans forward slightly. “Newsflash, there’s a lot of shit I’ve never told you, and I think it’s best we keep it that way. Go back to our normal routine—because I don’t need a babysitter anymore.” His eyes dip down to my lips and then back up to my eyes.
Wait. Did he just look at my mouth?
I narrow my gaze at him, irritation racing through me. “Fine. I have a Porsche to rebuild anyway, remember?”
“I’m glad. Maybe that project can take more of your time now since I’m all healed.”
I bark out a laugh. “Healed, huh?”
“Healed enough,” he fires back. “And while we’re at it, stop sending me baked goods.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “You don’t really mean that.”
His eye twitches. “No, I do. My pants are finally starting to fit again.”
“But you know you can’t resist Carolina’s cheesecake.”
