Entice (Hearts of Stone #2) (18 page)

Leo seems to bite back an insult and begins, instead, telling me how he needs my help convincing Lex to meet him on the thirty-first of December at a certain address. When I ask him why, he tells me, "That's when it will be ready."
 

I don't fall for the bait of asking him what 'it' is, not wanting him to think I even care. Because if I care, then he has a shot and he doesn't deserve a shot with my sister.
 

I read his face carefully as he tries to convince me how in love he is with Lex. How he'd do anything to get her back. I'm looking for the slightest twinge of insincerity. I can't find it, but even that doesn't help me believe him.
 

Simply because I already decided I don't want to.
 

Maybe he sees I'm ready to leave, senses I find this conversation is pointless, because his jaw tightens and his tone grows impatient. "You've never done something you regretted? You've never spoken out of anger? You've never hurt someone you cared about and wished you could take it back?"

I blink at this. Of course I've done all of these things. His gaze is so tenacious, it plows through mine and gives me the irrational suspicion he knows things about me that even I don't know. But whatever he sees in me must bring him to the realization that I'm simply not budging.
 

His face falls a fraction and he lets out a humorless laugh. "I don't know why I'm even wasting my time. You're so cynical."

I shrug. If that's an insult, it doesn't even sting.
 

He nods, as though acknowledging his statement has no effect on me whatsoever. "You think being cynical is something to be proud of? It's not. It's sad, Emily.
You're
sad."

I shoot up to my feet. "
Fuck you
, Leo. You don't know me."

He puts a hand up and hangs his head for a second in apparent regret. "Okay, that was uncalled for. I'm sorry. You're right. I don't know you. I really don't. But, Emily, what I can see when I look at you is bravado and show. And that tells me something—"

I cut him off before his monologue grows out of control. "That's enough, Leo. We're not here for you to psycho-analyze me."

He lets out a breath, as though realizing he's digging himself further into a hole. "All right look, I know I hurt your sister. I'm trying to fix it, but she won't take two seconds to hear me out. I need your help." He looks away, then down at his hands in an uncharacteristic show of doubt. "I'm leaving, Emily. I can't work for her anymore. It's killing me. If you can stand there and tell me Alexis wants nothing to do with me, that she won't regret walking away without hearing me out, then you won't hear from me again. Neither will she. But I don't think that's true. I've been waiting for a woman like her my entire life, even when I had no idea it's what I wanted."

I'm rooted to the spot. His words ring around us like an echoing bell and they feel too honest to mock.

He seems to see an opportunity because he picks up again after the short lull. "I don't just want her, Emily. I want to make her
happy
. Don't you want that, too?"

Ridiculous.
 

Of course I want that for my sister, but why does he assume he's her only chance at happiness? And why should
I
believe he is?
 

"All I keep hearing is what
you
feel and what
you
want. I hate to break it to you, Leo, but what you
feel
for my sister? Won't change anything. Feelings are abstract. They only really matter to the person
feeling
them. You."
 

He's silent and I know he's biting his tongue, clearly annoyed at my belittling tone.
 

I go on, "You know what else? If you want her the way you say, you wouldn't have dumped her the way you did. And in the end that's all that matters. Not what you want. Not what you feel. Not your words. Your actions. The things you actually
do
. So, what do you have, Leo? Besides your bleeding heart? Exactly," I say, nodding at his deer-in-the-headlights expression.
 

I secure my purse strap over my shoulder, but the hesitation on his face makes me falter. He clears his throat and, unless it's some trick of the light, he looks vulnerable for the first time since I met him. It's such a foreign look on him that it stands out, like an ugly coat he's too aware I can see.
 

"I bought her a house."

I start to speak. I try to say, 'excuse me?' but instead, I end up choking on my own spit. My hand flies to the base of my throat and I cough a few times. He watches me, waiting for me to finish my episode. I swallow. "You
what
?"
 

"I bought a house for us. I've put a lot of money into expediting the process and I'm confident the deal will go through by Tuesday at the latest."

That explains the date on his request. Still, the beginnings of a hysterical laugh erupt from me. "You can't be serious. Do you even know my sister? You two aren't even dating and you buy her a
house
?"

He nods slowly, as though my question is what's ridiculous.
 

"You're fucking crazy. I hope the driveway is nice and long because all you'll see of Lex are the skid marks her shoes leave on the ground when she runs off in the opposite direction. And she
will
run because…that's the worst idea I've ever heard."

The eagerness in his eyes gives me an instant pang of regret—or maybe it's pity—at the realization that I've probably crushed his ridiculous hopes. But I'm surprised by Leo's expression. There's resolve there. Pure resolve to the point that it makes me doubt my own hesitation.
 

He's so confident in what he's doing that suddenly, just his conviction seems to be changing what should be a crazy event to a, perhaps, understandable one.
 

He bought her a house
.
 

I try to mentally shrug it off, but end up shaking my head in disbelief, instead.

"I want a life with her," he says, eyes pleading with me to take him seriously. "And I know she wants it too. I get she has a lot of baggage. I get she feels like she can't trust anyone with her heart. But she wants this with me, I know that more than I know anything. And I think you know it too. Lex wants to be with me, Emily. And she and I, we can be great together. We
are
great together. But she's too stubborn. Too proud. I made it so all she has to do is step through the door. Just one step to let me in."

"You do know that expression isn't meant to imply a
literal
door?" I laugh. "You're a crazy motherfucker, Leo."

The corners of his lips twist and he puts his hands up in a
'what can you do about it'
gesture.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Lex is pissed, as I knew she'd be, that Leo dragged me into their drama. I'm still not sure what she'll do with what I told her. New Year's Eve is in three days and she doesn't seem inclined to give Leo another chance. I don't push the subject, though, because my intention isn't to force her into the decision but rather let her know it's not a ridiculous notion to consider.

Monday morning, I spend over an hour on the phone with Giles, talking with him about a job opportunity in the university's legal department. Officially putting my name in the hat. I'm relieved he sounds inclined to help me get the position. But when we end the phone call, I still don't have an interview. And though Giles promises me a follow up call, I'm wound so tightly with anxiety at the fear he might be my last chance at a job connection, I end up having a few drinks to calm myself.
 

Tuesday, Giles calls me with his colleague on the line for a phone interview. By the end of it, they ask me to come in to meet them and talk more about the position the following Monday. As I hang up, relief plunges through me, reaching my core and leaving me feeling fifty pounds lighter.
 

This is it; this job is as good as mine. I can feel it in my bones. And with that immediate concern out of the way, my attention shifts to the next point of worry.
 

Finding a place to live.
 

Lex wouldn't mind me staying here as long as I need to, but something in my gut tilts with the notion that tomorrow things might change for her, when—well, if—she meets Leo and he convinces her to embark on…whatever it is he's angling for. I'm still not sure.
 

As I contemplate a place to live, a very real image forms in my mind. A bright cozy room, slanted ceiling, the merger of the new and old, modern and antique. The ad I saw hanging on the diner's bulletin board. I don't even know if the loft is still available to rent. But there's only one way to find out.

The guy behind the counter is the fresh-faced young man Owen trained two weeks ago. Seeing this stranger taking orders and greeting customers brings a sinking feeling to my stomach. The realization that Owen isn't here. He's gone back to his usual life, his day job.
 

Even after I'd lost his number, I never really worried about not being able to see him when I was ready to. Somehow, I pictured it being as easy as walking in here and finding him behind the counter.

I wade through the floor of the diner, between the tables, to reach the back wall, where the bulletin board of announcements hangs. At first glance, I'm certain the ad for the loft is gone. But then I see it poking out from behind a sign about a yard sale. As I eye the bright, clean, open space, my resolve wraps around a sudden blooming hope. God, this picture is like a siren's call to me. I'm mesmerized by it. I'm
pulled
to it. This is where I'm going to live. It's still here for a reason.

Of course, for every part of me that wants this place, there's a small voice in the back of my mind warning me not to get my hopes up about it. I last saw this ad a week ago and have no idea how long it's been pinned on the board. The most likely scenario is that it's already been rented and the ad was simply forgotten.
 

But really, what have I got to lose by checking? I dial the number on the bottom of the page and each ring seems unusually long, long enough for the voice in my head to warn me repeatedly.

 
Don't get your hopes up. Don't get your hopes up.

The ringing cuts away to a clipped tone. "Hello?"

"Hello, I'm calling about the ad for the second floor loft. Is it still available?"

The line goes silent for a beat.
 

"Emily?"

It's Owen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Owen walks toward me, looking timeless in his motorcycle jacket and dark-washed jeans, hair tousled from the helmet. His face is shaved smooth and I'm surprised at the way this makes his eyes shine brighter than before, every nuance in color, from soft caramel to jade green, rippling with intensity.
 

Jesus. He's even more gorgeous than I remember. I'm finding it difficult to not get excited. Impossible to not smile. I'm motionless as he approaches, though he stops, abruptly, beyond arm's length.
 

I point toward the second story of the building behind me. "The loft is here?"

He nods and I let out a short laugh. The loft I've been fantasying about over the last few weeks sits atop Lucas' diner. I kind of feel tricked. I almost feel glad.

Owen's hands are in his jacket pockets, but his eyes can't be contained. They take me in an insatiable way, dancing with memories of the last time we saw each other.
 

"You're staying in town?"

I'm surprised it's taken him this long to ask, I expected it to be the first thing he asked when we talked on the phone earlier. But now that I look into his eyes I can see why. He's too guarded to show me how pleased he is by the prospect of me staying. I recognize that brand of hesitation—it borders on a deep fear of disappointment.
 

"I am. I've got a job connection here," I say, a bit discouraged by the strained, unfamiliar energy between us. It's like the past week we haven't seen each other worked to reverse whatever ground we broke in getting comfortable with one another.
 

"And you want to live here?"
 

"Well, I don't know yet. I'll have to see the place. But honestly, I've been eyeing the picture for a while."

"Come on, let me show you."
 

Owen leads me into the diner, past the tables and down the back hall, then through a set of doors that lead back outside. Another parking lot is back there, and though it seems to belong to the apartment complex behind the building, it's accessible to someone renting the loft, as well. I follow him up the stairs running along the backside of the building.

He opens the door and motions for me to take the lead. I enter into a small living room that yields soon after to a kitchen, separated by a countertop island. Owen is still behind me and I realize too late the entrance is not big enough for him to get past with me in the way.