Page 55 of Off the Mark
“You don’t make it hard, Maddox. But I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Enjoyedwasn’t the right word. I’d opened my door this morning to a delicious-smelling delivery from the diner we’d eaten at yesterday and a card that read:Good morning to my favorite distraction.
I’d blushed so furiously I could only snatch the bag up from the floor and dart back inside, just in case any fans saw me losing my cool over breakfast.
“I really did,” I said sincerely. “It made me think about that time, when we hadn’t seen each other for a while at Jolene’s because of our travel schedules, and you kept leaving…what was it…Ring Pops all around for me?”
He tipped his head back on a laugh. “You told me once how much you loved them in high school and how weird you felt saying they were your favorite candy.”
“Yeah, because they’re like jawbreakers in terms of time and commitment to eating them.” I bit my lip with a smile. “I’ve got no regrets about loving them though. Hey, does Tina do anything in a Ring Pop?”
“’Fraid not, or I’d already have sent it.”
I clicked my tongue against my teeth. “It was still a nice way to start the morning. Especially since I made you get dressed up just to drag you into the lion’s den tonight.”
Rowan slid his hands into his pockets. “That’s funny, since I’m pretty sure you’re the damn lion, Maddox.”
I scoffed. “Are you buttering me up for some sordid reason, O’Callaghan?”
“No, ma’am. I once saw you scare off a drunk guy who was harassing everyone in the bar and he was wearing this leather vest with the words ‘I am the Pain Machine” stitched onto the back.”
I felt the ends of my lips twitch. “Oh yeah, Pain Machine. I miss that guy.”
Another laugh, this one raspy and under his breath. I was very aware that we were standing in a room that now felt too small, with a giant king-sized bed only steps away. I watched him take in the unmade sheets covered in gear and a pair of my old sweatpants.
I didn’t care at all if he saw that my room was a mess. I’d sought out a hug from Rowan undertechnicallyfalse pretenses—and that was way more nerve-racking.
His focus landed back on me, doing a quick head-to-toe sweep. “And I thought we were both goin’ in clown suits.”
“I clean up nice.”
“This isn’tnice, Charlie.” A muscle clenched in his jaw. “You look stunning. As always.”
Our eyes held for a beat too long, especially in this room. The room with the bed. And the dresser.
And the shower.
I stepped back and made a show of giving him a dramatic once-over. “Nowthisis one heck of a clown suit. No wig and red nose though?”
Rowan tossed me a wink that had heat pooling in my belly. “A lot of people in South Philly say I clean up nice too. What do you think?”
He wore a black button-up with short sleeves, his bare arms muscled and freckled from the sun. Gray suit pants clung to thighs so thick I had to tear my gaze away. Not that any of these attributesmattered—even when I turned Rowan down, back during our Jolene’s days, I was acutely aware of his powerful body.
I was only trapped in a permanent state of overstimulation because of our current intimacy in public places.
I cocked my head to the side. “I wasn’t going to tell you this because you don’t need one more overly dramatic compliment about your looks. But my dad’s girlfriend, Penny, saw some pictures of us on Instagram and called you a ‘ginger hunk of burning love.’”
His teeth flashed white as he smiled. “So you’re saying I look like ahunk?”
“Y-yes,” I hedged. “The fans will be so grateful that you’re blessing them with your sexy ginger presence.”
Another lingering stare, a heady tension dancing in the air between us. Desperation had me searching out the time, cursing when I saw we were about to be late. I whirled back to the mirror to check my appearance again.
“We should…probably get going then?” I said, fixing my bangs.
“We should.”
I tightened my high bun and traced my finger along the red curve of my lipstick. I met Rowan’s brown eyes in the mirror.
