Ill-Gotten Memories

17. Waiting For Someone

"All done?"

I nodded at Johnathan politely, evading his soft gaze with low eyes. My plate was empty; Chicken Piccata filled me to the brim and I didn't leave a crumb behind. It was probably the most I had ate in weeks. To my shame, I was so full that moving from this table seemed impossible. But it was time for me to go.

He stood, taking the plate, and set it in the sink for me. What a gentleman.

Unbeknownst to my handsome White Knight, I had a classic case of the jitters, and I was a wreck. It had seemed like something was brewing between us while we were dancing, so I made it my personal duty to smother that little flame out. I couldn't risk giving him the wrong idea. He was such a sweet guy and it would be a shame for him to waste any romantic ambitions on someone like me. I didn't have the mental capacity for a relationship right now.

Then there was the fact that I still hadn't addressed the elephant in the room: Friday night. Was he the same neighbor who had driven me to the hospital? And if he were... how did we really meet?

My hands curled and twitched under the table. Johnathan sauntered across the floor back to me, and that was my cue to stand. And possibly leave; after all, confrontations weren't really my "thing" anyway.

I caught the breeze of his gentle smile. It was enough to knock me back down. But, on my feet, my hands were still performing gymnastics, so he couldn't have been far from realizing how unstable I was. That was a plus.

"Thank you for dinner. You're a fabulous cook; it was lovely." I may have said more than I wanted to, but it was the perfect segue to getting out of here. I was officially on the run.

"You're welcome." His teeth glinted at me. "I enjoyed your company very much, Barbara."

I scoffed. I could've passed for a damn mute. We hardly spoke. Getting me all flustered with our little dance before dinner sent my conversation skills on a nose dive. I couldn't help it. Intimate proximities were foreign to me. Glen's ill behavior had put barriers between us and even he hadn't so much as hugged me in forever. So my brain couldn't decide if I should be turned on or afraid of the dashing Silver Fox.

"I hope I wasn't too much of a bore."

He raised a brow. "That's impossible."

My stomach did a back handspring. It was so unusual, his effects. How he could simply say something a certain way and it made me, for a moment... want him.

"Get a hold of yourself, Barbara."

At this point, I wouldn't have been surprised if I were sitting in the corner of a padded cell with drool running down my chin, medicated to oblivion. Johnathan was too good to be true. He easily could have been part of some romantic fantasy I was having. And if it weren't for the Chicken Piccata weighing on my stomach, I'd start pinching myself. Men like him just didn't seem real. Kind, sweet, gentle and... delicate.

But cynical me was a gifted architect, and long ago I built walls around my heart. Brick by brick, I defended myself with conclusions about the male species; that they were all the same. They were vile creatures of humankind who didn't deserve the love of a woman. And should I ever get close enough to one again, he would hurt me... and it would be my fault.

So I stayed behind my walls. I wasn't going to let Johnathan pry into my heart just to throw me away afterwards. No matter how soft he was or how he made me feel.

I would always be afraid of that pain. The twelve year-old girl inside me could not escape Fear's suffocating grip.

Johnathan stepped around the table, dropping a hand on his chin.