Remi sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the shelter. “I told her it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Remi . . .”
She shook her head. “They snapped pictures of me when I was unloading a crate of puppies from another rescue. Once I got the dogs inside, I came back out to ask if they needed something.” Finally, her gaze locked on mine. “They knew my name. Asked when you’d be getting here. Asked if we’d been spending a lot of time together because of your community service,” she said pointedly.
I ground my teeth together, my hands clenching at my sides. “Anything else?”
“I asked them to leave,” she said with a helpless shrug. “They reminded me they were just outside the property line, so even if I called the cops, there was nothing I could do.”
“And then?”
Her eyes dropped down to the pavement and she leaned against the truck next to me but stayed far enough away that there was no risk of her skin brushing mine. Those few inches felt like a fucking mile.
How was it just last night that I’d thought I finally had her? That she would finally be mine? In the harsh light of day, and with reality intruding like a storm tearing the roof off my fucking house, the space she was keeping between us felt like a death knell.
“Then I went back inside and ignored their questions.” She tipped her head up, like the warmth of the sun on her face made her feel better. I might have tried it, too, but there was no tearing my eyes away from her. “I freaked out to Vanessa a little bit, and she called you.”
“When did they leave?”
Her mouth softened into a smile. “When Ness came outside with a bucket of dog shit and said she had really good aim.”
“Holy fuck.” I let out a sharp exhale and tried the face-up-to-the-sun thing. Not surprisingly, it didn’t have the slightest effect on my blood pressure or my mood. “Why didn’t you?”
“Why didn’t I what?” She attempted a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Throw dog shit?”
I stared hard at her profile. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Remi turned to the side, leveling me with her knowing gaze. “You know why. I’m not trying to send you any more mixed signals after the other night, and asking you to come save me at the slightest inconvenience seems pretty mixed to me.”
I pushed off the truck and shoved my hands through my hair. “Fucking hell, Remi, do you think I care about signals? You had assholes here with cameras in your face, likely tipped off by my father because he’s trying to remind me that he’s not going away quietly. You’ve never had to deal with that before, and even when you’re used to it, it’s not easy.”
“It wasn’t easy. It was horrible,” she said, unflinchingly honest. “My hands were shaking so bad, I could hardly pull open the door when I tried to go back into the lobby. I could feel them staring at me the entire way, and I don’t know how anyone ever gets used to that level of invasion of their privacy.”
“You don’t,” I said gruffly. “You don’t. But when you love the thing you do, it’s a trade-off that you accept.”
When you love someone who does what I do, it’s a trade-off you accept.
I couldn’t say it, because we weren’t there.Shewasn’t there. But God, I wanted her to be. I wanted to press Remi against the side of the truck and kiss her the way I’d kissed her the night at my house. Wanted to feel her curves against my body and swallow those sweet little sounds she made. More than that, though, I wanted to absorb the pieces of this situation that caused her stress and worry, that she couldn’t see a way past. Everything inside me was screaming to do something, to take something, to find an outlet for everything I was feeling but couldn’t speak out loud.
The unspent tension made the blood pump furiously through my veins, seeking an outlet that was no longer there. My emotions were sharp and focused, so bright that they hurt, like trying to stare directly at the sun.
“I wanted to call you,” she admitted quietly in a defeated tone. Her shoulders were slumped, her demeanor sad. “I went into my office and picked up my phone. And just before I hit the button, I thought,This isn’t fair. I can’t do this to him.”
“Do what?”
Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. “Tell you one thing and then do another.” She shook her head, staring down at the ground again for a moment. “Even before I got here, and even though I shouldn’t have been, I couldn’t stop thinking about our kiss and how it felt being with you.”
“God, me too,” I said, desire giving my voice a rough edge. “I can’t get it out of my fucking head.” I let out a short laugh. “I was a little sad I didn’t have to come do hours today.”
Remi sucked in a quick breath, then pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of her back pocket, holding it out to me with a decisive set to her jaw. “About that ...”
“What’s this?”
She waited quietly while I unfolded the paper and skimmed the lines, until I got to the bottom and saw her signature next to the tally of hours. “I didn’t finish yet. Why does this say I did?”
“I decided to count the hours you helped me move Pops. You did it at my request, and even though it wasn’t at the shelter, you were helping me, so I made an executive decision.” She smiled, but it was bittersweet, and the sight of it tore through my fucking ribs. “Congratulations. You’re officially done with your community service.”
Not trusting myself to speak right away, I stared down at the paper for a few more moments while someone tore my sternum open to the size of the Grand Canyon.