Author: Aly Martinez
Category: Contemporary
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/aly-martinez/page,8,605557-the_difference_between_somebody_and_someone_the_difference_trilogy_book_1.html
He stood, his tall, muscular frame unfolding. I waited for the frown. It seemed to be his specialty when it came to me, but as his gaze held mine, his expression remained soft. Not quite a smile, but definitely progress.
“Hi,” he said, staring for a beat before grabbing a small potted cactus no bigger than my cell phone off the table and extending it in my direction. “I brought you this.” He glanced around at the plants hanging in the corners, his gaze lingering the longest on the massive string of pearls plant, its vines several feet long. “Seems lackluster now.”
I bit my lip. “No, it’s gorgeous.” Our fingertips brushed as I took it from him and I willed the heat rising inside me not to hit my cheeks. “Thank you. This is unexpected after yesterday.” I turned the pot from side to side. “Wait. Did you tuck a restraining order in here somewhere?”
He chuckled and my head snapped up, ready and eager for the heart-stopping show that was a Bowen Michaels smile. His whole face beamed. His brown eyes were warmer than before, and his enchanting grin revealed what was possibly a dimple hiding in his neatly trimmed beard.
It did not disappoint.
Amber suddenly appeared at my side. “All right, Remi, I’m out of here. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I didn’t tear my gaze off Bowen as I replied, “Have a good night.”
“You too,” she sang, the front door swinging shut behind her.
A pregnant silence blanketed the room as we stood there. I’d led every single conversation Bowen and I had ever exchanged, but letting him take the lead would be fun for once. Especially since he’d basically told me to kick rocks the day before.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he wedged his hand inside the pocket of his navy slacks, which were tapered at the ankle and capped by stylish brown dress shoes. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Sure. What’s up?” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “Do we need privacy? Nobody’s here, but I can lock up and we could go to my office.”
He shook his head. “That’s not necessary. This won’t take but a minute.”
I couldn’t help it. The damn cactus had gotten my hopes up. Hopes of what, I wasn’t quite sure, but his impending brevity made my shoulders sag. “Oh, okay.”
His jaw muscles ticked as he drew in a deep breath, and just as he had done too many times before, his gaze cut over my shoulder. “Look, I owe you an apology. The courthouse, the bar, yesterday—that’s not me. It’s just…” His eyes returned to mine. “I lost my fiancée in the plane crash. And honestly, Remi, most days it feels like I’m drowning.”
I nearly dropped the cactus when I slapped a hand over my mouth. Memories of me all but throwing myself at this grieving man raced to the front of my mind. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I never would’ve—”
“Remi, no.” Surprise, surprise, he’d interrupted me, but this time, I didn’t mind.
Seriously, how could I? I’d been practically harassing a widower.
His long legs devoured the space between us. “I didn’t tell you so you’d feel guilty. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let me explain myself.” His right hand landed on my hip, giving me a warm squeeze.
At the contact, we both froze, and I held my breath, waiting for him to realize he was touching me and then snatch it away like I was again made of fire.
My pulse quickened as his left hand came toward my face ever so slowly. My lungs burned, pleading for oxygen, but there was none to be found in the small space between us.
“Bowen,” I managed to whisper.
Dear God, he was going to kiss me.
He’d told me his fiancée was dead, and now he was going to kiss me. The whiplash with this man was not for the faint of heart. Worse, I didn’t know what it said about me, but I was going to let him. Right there in my office. Still holding a cactus, I was going to let him do whatever the hell he—
He picked a stick from my hair.
The teasing smile tipped one side of his mouth. “I think you’re sprouting branches.”
“It’s mulch,” I replied breathily, even to my own ears.
He squinted one eye. “You take this plant thing pretty serious, huh?”
Okay, yes. That was a much better answer than admitting I’d gotten stuck under a house. “Very, very seriously.”
He smiled, bright and white. It was even more attractive up close. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“For what?”
“What do you mean for what?”
“I mean, yesterday, you told me you can’t. I respected it then. But I get it more than ever now. I never should have put you in that position.”
“Nope. Don’t do that.” He gave my hip another firm squeeze. “You don’t get to hijack my apology. Just listen.”
He was too close for me to listen. Too close not to read into every single move he made. And even knowing that he was about to let me down easy all over again, he was too damn close for me to not want more.
I needed space from this man so I could feel like a decent, empathetic human being again. “Any chance I can put Quincy down first?”
His lips twitched. “Quincy the cactus?”
I shrugged. “It feels right.”
His eyes darkened, his smile slipping away as he leaned in close. “It does, doesn’t it?”
Chills exploded across my skin and my mouth dried. It was not fair that he had that kind of effect on me when I was so obviously trying to be respectful of his situation. Okay, maybe not that respectful. I arched my back, causing my breasts to brush his chest.
What? Hell was probably more fun anyway.
He let out a low growl before thankfully—and unfortunately—backing away. “Right. Okay. Talk first.”
First?
I was more intrigued by what came second.
I set Quincy on Amber’s desk. I’d move him to my office later. Cacti weren’t really my thing, but this one might give Margret a run for her money as my new favorite. “I’m listening.”
He cleared his throat. “I think I may have misspoken yesterday when I told you that I can’t do this with you. I thought about it—you—a lot last night and I’ve come to the conclusion that the better statement is I don’t know how to do this.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You have to understand, my life has been a maze of tragedy for the last year or so. If I’m being honest, I lost my fiancée long before the plane crash, but in a lot of ways, I’m standing in that maze, still searching for a way out. Yesterday, as you drove away, I realized that locking the door didn’t keep you out as much as it just kept me inside that much longer.”
My chest ached for him, and I fought the urge to reach out and touch him in a way that couldn’t possibly ease his pain. My hands never moved, but he must have sensed my intentions because he offered me a sad smile and lifted one long finger in the air, asking for me to wait.
“You don’t know me,” he said, “but I’m asking for a chance to change that. Just dinner. Drinks. Let me run you off the good old-fashioned way with riveting conversation of tax law and military history. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. But I have too many regrets in my life to allow a missed opportunity with you to become another.” He smiled shyly, so completely unlike any version of Bowen I’d seen before. “So, I guess, long story short: Would you like to…go on a date with me?”
I stared at him, wondering what kind of horrors lurked in the shadows of his maze. It wasn’t my place to ask him. Not now. Not yet.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I slanted my head. “So, that’s it? That’s your sales pitch? Tragedy, mazes, and military history?”
“I’m afraid so.” He smirked, rocking from heel to toe. “Oh, and I can do whatever kind of accounting it was you needed help with.”
He hadn’t had to offer me anything. I would have said yes regardless. But he didn’t need to know that. “Free of charge?”
“Mmmm.” He swayed his head from side to side. “I heard something about your dad and an orange jumpsuit. The consult
ation is free, but I make no promises about the rest.”
My hand shot out so fast that I heard it whiz through the air. “Deal.”
Bowen’s grin as we shook on our arrangement was almost as wide as my own.
Bowen
Over the next two days, time moved impossibly slow. Remi and I had exchanged numbers and agreed to meet at a little sushi place near her office after her open house on Saturday afternoon. A day date wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was necessary for where I wanted to take her.
It was now Thursday, and I still hadn’t heard from her. For as much as Remi talked, I assumed some of that would translate into at least one text over the course of the week. Though it wasn’t like I’d texted her, either.
I’d picked up my phone several times. I’d even opened up a message addressed to her. I’d typed little, but I’d sent even less. I was so out of the game when it came to dating that I didn’t know where to start. Hi was the classic carefree-yet-obvious-I’m-interested-a-healthy-amount option. Though I feared my fingertips would follow it up with I can’t stop thinking about you, which would no doubt erase any cool-guy foothold I had. It was safer if I said nothing at all.
So that was what I did. Torturous as it might have been.
As I finished up for the day, I dreaded going home. It shouldn’t have worked like that. Home should have been my escape. But my nephews had soccer on Thursdays not far from my house, so Cassidy always stopped by to make sure I was still breathing. Today was no exception. She’d already sent me pictures of Sugar and Clyde sunbathing in their favorite spot in the backyard. They loved her, but personally, I could pass on the weekly interrogations, especially now that I had something—someone—to hide.
There was a knock on my office door and then Emily cracked it open. “Hey, Remi Grey just dropped off some paperwork for you. She said it was her father’s receipts, but it looks like a bag of trash and smells like French fries.”
It was comical how fast I lurched to my feet. “She’s here?”
“Well, she was. Don’t worry. No mop needed this time.”
I hurried past her to the waiting area. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Um…because you have specifically told me not to bother you when a client stops by unannounced.”
I let out a low growl and marched to the front door, hoping I could catch her. And say what? I had no idea, but I’d figure it out. I trusted my mouth slightly more than my fingertips.
I scanned the parking lot for any sign of her. The disappointment that she’d been so close was a sucker punch to the gut—until I caught sight of a white Honda Pilot parked in front of the tea shop across the street. There was no mistaking the succulent hanging in a crocheted net on the rearview mirror.
Earlier that week, I’d cursed that shop for over an hour as I’d crawled around on my hands and knees, chasing fruity pearls from under the chairs. As I stepped off the curb, a smile on my face, I was all too happy to eat my words.
She was standing at the counter when I quietly walked inside. Her long, blond hair cascaded down her back, and tight jeans hugged the curve of her ass.
“That will be nine sixty-two,” the barista told her.
In one fluid movement, I retrieved my wallet, slid my credit card out, and extended it over Remi’s shoulder. “I’ve got it.”
She spun around, a beautiful mixture of surprise and delight on her pretty face. “Hey,” she said.
The barista took my card.
Remi tried to stop her. “No, wait. Don’t run that. I owe you the drink, remember?”
Ignoring her, I jerked my chin for the barista to continue. “Actually, you bought me four drinks, and I think we can all agree it was more than enough.”
A soft laugh escaped through her perfect lips. “Fine. What about a cookie, then?”
“Thanks, but I’m good. I can’t eat anything from here. Peanuts.”
Her eyes flashed wide. “Oh my God, you’re allergic to nuts? I could have killed you with those cookies on Monday.” She patted my chest down like she was searching for an injury. “You didn’t eat any, right?”
I grinned—only partially because her hands were all over me. “Off the floor? Tempting as it might have been, no. But yes, I am allergic. They just give me hives, not send me into anaphylactic shock.”
She peered up at me, more serious than I’d ever seen her. “Do you carry an EpiPen just in case?”
“I have one in my office, yes.”
“Then you have to teach me how to use it before our date. I can’t carry your demise on my conscience.”
I chuckled. There was a high probability this woman was going to be the death of me, though I didn’t think it would involve a single peanut. “Fair enough. You free now?”
“Sure. Give me a second.” She turned back to the counter. “Ma’am. Sorry. I’m actually not going to need that cookie after all.”
I rested my hand on the small of her back and dipped low, putting my lips to her ear. She smelled intoxicating, like wildflowers and honey. “It’s not a big deal. You should have the cookie.”
Her breath hitched and she arched into my touch. “That’s okay. I’d rather keep my options open without the added risk of killing you.”
I didn’t quite understand until she tipped her head back, her cheeks pink, her gaze heated and aimed at my mouth.
Yep. Fuck the cookie. For that matter, fuck the EpiPen, the ten miles between us and my house, and Atlanta’s indecent exposure laws too.
“Good idea,” I murmured.
The barista cleared her throat and handed me my card back, shaking us from the moment. Then she kindly switched out Remi’s dessert for a second tea. It was a beyond horrible mix of cherry and milk, but as we walked back to my office together, I sipped it with pride.
Remi watched me with rapt attention as I taught her to use the EpiPen, which I belatedly realized was long expired. I’d never actually had to use the life-saving device, but the fact that she cared enough to learn was cute. She’d gone so far as to open her phone a few times to take notes.
In the face of crisis, I would be grateful for the ease and speed in which an EpiPen could be administered. Though, in the face of desperate need to spend more time with a woman, the ten minutes it took me to teach her how to use it was woefully short. Then again, any amount of time with Remi eagerly on her knees, rubbing her hand against my thigh in broad daylight, would never be enough.
The things this woman did to me were dangerous in all the right ways.
“And that’s all there is to it?” she asked before hopping up to sit on the corner of my desk, facing me.
I fought the urge to walk over and stand between her legs. My hands would have wandered. Then my mouth. Instead, I sank into my rolling chair and inwardly praised the surprising amount of control I’d managed to muster through the hands-on emergency tutorial. “Just make sure you’ve called nine-one-one and that’s it. You feel better about our date now?”
She slanted her head and shot me a warm smile. “I don’t know. I guess that depends on where you’re taking me.”
“Well, I figured we’d start the day with something exciting like taking my truck in for an oil change. After that, we’ll rob a liquor store, hijack a train, and knock off a few banks. Really, the possibilities are endless.”
Her eyes lit. “You drive a truck?” A smile slid around her face as she sucked her lips into her mouth, failing to hide it.
I barked a laugh. “That’s what you took from all that?”
She popped one shoulder. “I just didn’t picture you as a truck guy.”
“But you can picture me as a fifties mobster?”
She crossed her arms over her rounded chest. “Bowen—hot as you may be—you’re an accountant with a peanut allergy, who carries a handkerchief. It was safe to assume the rest was a joke.”
“Hey!” I laughed and matched her body language, folding my forearms over each other, loving the way she watched. I flexed my bicep for good meas
ure, causing her to swallow and then regain her composure in the blink of an eye. “Are you calling me a nerd, Ms. Grey?”
“I don’t know yet, Bo,” she retaliated only to cringe. Clearly not liking the sound of the condensed version of my name, she corrected with, “Bowen, tell me more about this truck?”
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs, again pleased with how I could distract her just by moving. “It’s silver. Four wheels. Power locks and windows. And if I’m not mistaken, it has an engine and a transmission.”
She hummed. “Wow, both? I had no idea you were such a gearhead.”
I laughed again, shaking my head. “And I had no idea you were such a smartass.”
“I guess we’re learning a lot today, aren’t we? Me with my medical qualifications, and you with…” She inched over on the desk so her dangling feet hit my outstretched legs. “Your newfound knowledge of thirst trapping. You know what you’re doing, Sir Flex-A-Lot.”
Busted.
“Is it working?” I winked and waited for her to either throw me a bone or lie through her teeth.
“Let’s just say, minus your whole hives thing, if you don’t take it down a notch, I might be the one who needs a crash cart.” She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. “Which is why I should probably get going.”
Funny, only days ago, I couldn’t make Remi leave me alone, and now I would have made deals with the devil himself for another hour.
“Or you could stay.”
Her head popped up, the same excitement swirling in my chest reflecting back at me in her blue eyes.
“I promised you a free consult. I haven’t had a chance to look through your dad’s stuff yet, but I don’t have anywhere to be tonight if you don’t.”
She looked at her watch and I wondered if maybe I’d gotten ahead of myself. After all, if she’d wanted to hang out and go over things, she wouldn’t have just dropped off the paperwork and darted away.
However, I’d already walked out to the ledge, and there I waited.