Love Hacked (Knitting in the City #3)(34)
Author: Penny Reid

“Hasn’t he been at all of your dates over the last two years? Technically you could say that you’ve been on about thirty dates, or thirty-three.” Janie pointed out.

“It’s starting, Sandra. All the signs are there.” Elizabeth looked worried. “You’re falling in love with him.”

“No. No I’m not.” My words were a groan, a plea. He hadn’t been vetted yet. I couldn’t allow myself to fall for him. “I just…I really, really like him.”

“Do you want me to find out what he went to prison for?” Janie filled the remainder of the cocktail glasses. I was certain the rest of the ladies were likely on the precipice of revolt since we’d been in the kitchen for going on twenty minutes.

“She could, you know. Quinn is a wizard with that kind of stuff.” Elizabeth nodded at her own assertion. “A grumpy, hot, stoic wizard.”

“No…yes…I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I want him to tell me.”

“But what if he is dangerous? What if he’s lying to you?” Elizabeth pressed.

“What if who is lying to Sandra?”

We all turned at the sound of Fiona’s voice, and I struggled to curb a guilty expression.

Before I could respond, Janie helpfully filled in the blanks. “Alex, the handsome waiter with the sexy voice from that Indian restaurant where Marie was accosted.”

Fiona blinked at Janie; she appeared stunned. Then her attention focused on me. “You’re seeing that guy?”

I gulped my lemon drop as I nodded, smacking my lips together. “Yep. We’re dating.” My voice was raspy because Janie had been heavy-handed with the vodka.

Fiona’s expression, to her credit, was one of maternal concern and compassion. “What can I do to help?”

I loved her.

Again, before I could answer, Janie filled in the blanks. “He’s on parole from federal prison for computer hacking, but Sandra doesn’t know the details, and Elizabeth thinks she’s falling in love with him.”

I lifted my hand, waved it in the air then smacked it against my thigh. “Thank you, Janie.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh, my,” Fiona breathed, and she walked forward, claimed a drink, and downed it in three gulps. She winced as she adjusted to the very strong vodka, and then she set the glass on the counter and motioned for Janie to refill it. “Now then, let’s start from the beginning.”

CHAPTER 16

Wednesday’s Horoscope: Revelations today may leave you feeling lost. Keep your wits about you, don’t overreact, and you may find a better way forward.

I had no way to communicate with Alex that I was running late for our date.

A patient, an eight-year-old foster child who had just been diagnosed with leukemia, had been my last appointment, an add-on. No way was I going to rush through this session. It took two hours.

In my profession as a child and adolescent psychiatrist, some days are good, productive days. Some days are bad, heartbreaking days. Today was the latter.

I’d ignored all the voicemails and messages that had been piling up from my platonic male friends and jogged out of the hospital. The city was already dark, and instead of thinking about Kara, my last patient, and the road she would be facing alone, I did what was necessary to avoid burnout.

I thought about my own daily struggles, worries, plans, and action items. I also attempted to avoid comparing my concerns to those of my patients.

If I allowed myself to fret over every Kara I met, or if I succumbed to feeling guilty for my blessings, I would not be a child and adolescent psychiatrist for very long. Work was work. I did my best. I cared about my patients. Yet I knew that taking those cares home with me was the fastest road to exhaustion.

Worrying about Kara wouldn’t help her. But watching a funny movie, reading a sexy book, and getting a good night’s sleep would ensure I was refreshed in the morning. I needed to reboot and recharge so I could fight more battles the next day.

Therefore, I thought about Alex and how I was late for our date. I also thought about my knitting group and their reaction to my news the night before.

After Fiona found us in the kitchen, the entire discussion was repeated again in the living room for everyone to hear. Ashley thought I was crazy. Marie said go for it. Kat was contemplative. Nico reserved voicing judgment, but gave me a concerned look. And Fiona was, as ever, surprisingly adult; she was quiet, thoughtful, and supportive.

But she was insistent that I find out the specifics of why Alex went to prison, and suggested I take Janie up on the offer to have Quinn investigate.

This was met with nods of approval from around the room. I swore them all to secrecy and promised I would give them my answer by next week.

I knew that it made sense to have Alex investigated. Entering into a relationship is frightening enough without going into a lava flow blind.

Nevertheless, I wanted him to tell me the truth first. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. I wanted him to trust me.

This was where my mind was occupied when Alex stepped out of a shadowy alley in front of my El station and just about scared the poop out of me.

I jumped back, my hand pressed to my heart, and gasped in shock. “Oh, my God!”

Alex lifted his hands in a demonstration of his docile intent. “Sorry, sorry. I saw you leave the hospital and came through this way to intercept you. Are you okay?”

I walked backward, then leaned one hand against the brick exterior of Jefferson’s Shoe Repair and Sock Emporium. I couldn’t catch my breath.

“You just almost gave me literal shitzterhozen.” I chuckled; it was soft yet a little hysterical. I shook my head to clear it.

His rumbly laugh met my ears. “You should have seen your face.”

My laugh continued, less hysterical, more therapeutic. “Bukakke! I can’t believe how fast my heart is beating.”

Alex crossed to me and placed two fingers against my neck, presumably to feel my pulse. “I can’t….”

In one swift movement I unzipped my coat to my abdomen, grabbed his hand, and stuffed it into my jacket under my left breast, “Here, this is how you get the full effect.”

His smile was immense, devastating. His hand, cold at first, curled just slightly around my ribs, and it tickled. His fingers thawed gradually, and the spot where his palm was pressed over my shirt became heated with our combined warmth.

We passed a long moment, his hand in my jacket, feeling my heartbeat, my eyes surveying his reaction. His smile waned over the course of several seconds, and an intense but distant melancholy claimed his features.

I shivered.

With visible reluctance, Alex drew his hand away then zipped my jacket. Without his hand, my chest felt cold.

A small, sad smile lingered around his lips, and I caught a whiff of his soap.

He smelled mantastic. My heart rate spiked again.

“Thank you,” he said. His tone was quiet, deferential. “I’ve never done that before.”

“What? Jump out of an alley like a menacing henchman and loosen a person’s poop?”

Alex pressed his lips together, though they curved upward betraying the smile he attempted to mask. “No. I do that all the time. It’s Wednesday, right?”

“Ha. Very funny.”

“I was talking about feeling your heartbeat. I’ve never done that before.”

My gaze flickered over him. “What do you mean? To anyone?”

He nodded once and reached for my hand, then pulled me along the street behind him. “Correct.”

“Not even your mom?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Not that you remember?”

Alex paused when we reached the intersection; he didn’t look at me, instead I was given only his profile. He didn’t answer, but his silence confirmed that my heart had been his first.

I thought about that. In fact, I thought about that for a long time. We walked several blocks before the full implication of this offhanded revelation struck me.

What about the women he’d slept with? Isn’t that what people do after making love? They cuddle and hold each other. It’s what we’d done on Saturday fully clothed. But had we been naked, our hearts would have beaten together.

I didn’t realize it at first, but I was staring at him. And something about my expression must’ve made him uneasy. His eyes flickered to mine then away. He almost looked…guilty.

“Alex….”

He sniffed and looked toward the crosswalk sign. “We’re almost there. Sorry we had to walk. It’s just that all the El stations have cameras….”

“I want to take you someplace else,” I said.

He looked at me then, eyes betraying his curiosity. “Where?”

“Someplace we can talk without being watched or listened to.”

“Like a closet?”

“No. Like an apartment, not mine. But it has a small storage area if you’d prefer only talking openly in enclosed spaces.”

Alex’s expression betrayed his wariness. He didn’t immediately respond; instead, he pulled me across the street then tucked me under his arm on the other side before saying, “I thought we could go to the Field Museum.”

“You mean the natural history museum? It’s closed.”