Is he nervous? Bored? Ready to leave?
Axel Daire is a difficult man to read on a good day. Tonight, he’s impossible. Other than the blatant appreciation in his eyes when he picked me up, I’ve barely gotten a smile, a reaction, out of him all night.
The man doesn’t vacation, doesn’t willingly share his weekend plans, and, as far as I can tell, his only hobby is fishing. He’s spoken about Lola and the Thunderbolts all night. And only because I’ve peppered him with questions.
I take a generous sip of my wine. It’s not a bad date. Not at all. It’s just…not the fireworks I expected. Narrowing my gaze, I zero in on Axel’s mock turtleneck and slicked back hair. His long hair is secured at the nape of his neck, a neat man bun when I’m used to seeing it messy and in disarray. He clearly tried to look a certain way tonight but…
Oh God, is he disappointed in me? Does he find me lacking? This date, conversation, inadequate?
My mother’s voice, words from my teen years, ping through my head. Sit up straight. Push your shoulders back. You’ll never land a man if you slouch. Be interesting but not too chatty; never too much.
Or do I need to manage my own expectations? The conversation has been pleasant enough, the food, delicious. There’s nothing bad or wrong and yet, my chest squeezes. A part of me is disappointed because I was expecting…more. Something big and overwhelming, imposing, like Axel.
“Do you like to fish?” he asks after a long pause, circling back to his one hobby.
“I’ve never been.”
“Ever?”
I shake my head, giving a small smile and a cute shrug. At least, I hope it’s cute. Maybe he’ll offer to take me? Maybe he’ll want to teach me how to fish. Maybe—
“That’s too bad,” he says.
Maybe not.
“Do you fish a lot?” I wade back in.
Axel shrugs, his mouth almost curling into a smile at a faraway thought, maybe a memory, before smoothing out in a straight line. Can he just give me one smile? A hint that shows he wants to be here with me? That this isn’t deficient or awful?
“I used to go more in Seattle.”
“Would you like to see a dessert menu?” Our server pops by and begins to clear our plates.
Axel looks at me expectantly.
I love dessert. I always save room for a sweet treat at the end of the meal. The dessert menu here boasts macarons and mille-feuille, lemon tarts and opera cake.
My stomach is tied in knots. The thought of biting into a perfectly sour tart and enduring any more of this stifled conversation, unable to read the insanely sexy man seated across from me, makes my eyes burn.
“No, thank you,” I murmur.
Axel frowns, his expression tightening. “You sure?”
Does he think I can’t pass up a dessert? Or is finally clueing into the stilted conversation, hesitant and stumbling, between us?
“I’m sure.”
“I’m fine, too,” he tells our server.
“All right.” She places down the black bill book. “I’ll leave this for whenever you’re ready. No rush.”
Axel reaches for it moments after she leaves the side of our table and my heart sinks into the clustered knots of my stomach. I make a move to grab my purse and he gives me a sharp look, his dark eyes black with intensity. “Thank you for coming with me, Maisy.” His tone is stern and I place my hands back in my lap.
“Thank you for dinner, Axel.” So formal.
He nods, slipping his credit card into the black folder.
I clear my throat. “What’s Lola doing tonight?”
He sighs. “I’m not sure but she and Jas are getting into something.”
“Really? What do you think?”
He snorts, the most amused he’s been all evening. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. They were being cryptic as hell. But they’re going to Corks which means—”
“They’re going to see some guys.”
“Exactly.” Axel frowns, as if my confirming it made it true. He sighs, thanking the server when she runs his card. He adds a tip and signs his name, tucking the slip of paper into the little book. “You ready?”
I nod, standing from my chair and tucking it back under the table. Disappointment squeezes my throat like a vice, making speech impossible.
“Maisy?” My name rings out.
Turning, I spot Cohen, one of the football players for the Knoxville Coyotes and my longtime friend. Relief eases my disappointment and I relax when I catch his eyes. Bright green and brimming with humor.
“Cohen! What are you doing here?” I blush the moment the words are out of my mouth, noticing the beautiful redhead behind him. I lift my hand in a little wave and she smiles.
“On a date,” he quips, reaching my side. He palms my waist, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “You?” His eyebrow arches.
I clear my throat, my blush deepening. “Same.”
Cohen nods and holds out a hand to Axel. “Good to see you, man.”
“You too,” Axel mutters, gruff as always. He shakes Cohen’s hand, but his expression is harder than it was a moment ago. Unreadable as always.
Cohen grins and shoots me a wink. “Have a good night, Maisy. I’ll catch up with you this week.”
“Of course,” I agree, squeezing his forearm. “See you soon.”
As Cohen and his date, a gorgeous woman whose laughter ripples through the space like a melody, step past us on their way to the bar, I can’t help but watch. Cohen is charming, affable, likable, and fun to be around. His date hasn’t stopped smiling up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of awe and desire.
“You know him well?” Axel’s voice slices through my thoughts and I turn my attention back to my date.
“We’ve been friends for years.” Cohen used to be best friends with Mila’s ex-boyfriend Avery Callaway. Cohen and Mila were extremely close, like brother and sister. After Avery’s cheating scandal became public, their friendship, and subsequently, my friendship with Cohen, took a hit. But now, they’ve reconciled and it’s nice to see my old friend again.
I look over my shoulder one last time and catch his eye. Cohen’s staring straight at me, his expression searching, gaze sharp, as he takes in Axel’s hand on the small of my back, guiding me forward. Huh? Does he not like Axel? There’s been some rivalry between the Coyotes and the Bolts since the new team arrived early in summer, but Cohen isn’t one for drama.
His date laughs again, drawing his attention back to her expectant face. He gives her an easy smile, his demeanor relaxing. Already, their body language is more in sync than mine and Axel’s have been the entire night.
I allow Axel to guide me forward and search for something to fill the silence between us. We step outside, into the cool night breeze, and wait for his truck.
I let out a slow exhale and try to change the direction of my thoughts. I do what I do best: rationalize. My expectations were too high. My attraction for Axel too great. There was nothing bad about tonight. It was a perfectly pleasant meal and conversation.
But why didn’t he smile and laugh? Or tease and prod? Where are the sparks I’ve come to associate with him? The sparks Cohen effortlessly gave off with a date, probably a random woman he’s known for a handful of hours. How come their connection seemed more effortless than mine and Axel’s?
I don’t want perfectly pleasant. I don’t want to settle for anything less than all. I want consuming intensity that threatens to drown me. I want sexy looks and hot hands, desperate caresses and intentional conversation. I want verbal foreplay.
I curse my expectations for tonight.
I slide into the passenger seat of Axel’s truck. We listen to a country station on the ride home, both of us lost to our thoughts. As the city lights fade and my hometown slips past the window, I can’t help feeling defeated.
I’m still here, still trying to make the most of each day. Still alone. Cohen meets and dates women regularly, each one a fun and exciting encounter that seems easy. Uncomplicated.
Mila and Devon, an unlikely pair, are in love and making plans for the future. Even my little sister, Missy, is getting serious with her boyfriend Brennan.
I’ve always wanted that. Marriage, a home, a family. But as my prospects dwindled and my choices in men became less reliable, I began to search for other wants. Travel, adventure, learning new things.
Is it wrong to want both? To harbor secret desires and wants, wishes and dreams? I swore to myself after Josh that I was done settling. I’m ready to live.
To surf in Costa Rica. To pursue my passions—crafting and design—with abandon. To date men who make me feel like I’m drowning and burning and needing.
I thought tonight was the start of that, but when Axel pulls into my driveway and slips from his seat, leaving the truck running, I can’t fight the hurt that anchors in the pit of my stomach.
He walks me to my front door, his gaze watchful, his expression wary.
“I had fun tonight, Maisy.” His tone is filled with honesty.
I turn toward him on my front porch and force a smile. “Me too. Thanks for taking me to Le Papillon.”
“Anytime,” he murmurs, and I can tell he means it.
That’s what’s so damn confusing. I can’t read the man before me and I’m desperate to understand him. What is this between us? Nervous energy and awkward silence mixed with moments of anticipation? It’s confusing.
Axel stares right at me, his eyes momentarily unguarded. And I see it—the spark, the hesitancy, the confusion. It’s the same feelings swirling around my chest. Silent questions and sad assumptions.
Axel moves closer and my heart hammers. I tip my face up, my eyes searching his. He bends and his mouth brushes over mine in a chaste, sweet kiss. His lips are softer than they have any right to be. They move over my mouth in a slow, measured moment. The heat of his big hand seeps into my waist and the scruff of his beard tickles my chin. He kisses me again. “Thank you for tonight, Maisy.”
“I, you’re welcome,” I manage. It’s not often I’m caught off guard, but right now, I’m useless. All I can do is watch as Axel bounds down the porch steps.
He turns, walking backwards, and shoots me a grin. A real smile that curves his mouth and makes his eyes dance. It strikes me like Cupid’s arrow and I smile back, wide and warm. The tightness in my chest unravels and for a heartbeat, it feels like my feet don’t touch the ground.
“Go inside now,” he murmurs.
Rolling my eyes at his overprotectiveness, I acquiesce, unlocking my door and slipping over the threshold.
I give him a flirtatious smirk and wave goodbye. He beeps his truck horn once before backing out of my driveway.
Closing my front door, I press my back against it and sink down to the floor. I’m more confused than ever. After a night of dancing around topics and never fully settling on one, of never digging past the surface, Axel kissed me good night. A gentle, sweet kiss that hinted at what lies beneath the surface.
A surface I’m desperate to crack. I want to explore more with him. I want to get to know the man behind the guarded eyes and hesitant smiles.
Was tonight a first step? A hint? Will he give me more or allow his guard to slip back into place?
I press my fingertips against my lips, still warm from the pressure of his.
Tonight wasn’t fireworks but it was sparks. Enough to fill my empty chest with a hope that has the potential to burn into something brighter.
My hope has deflated.
“He still hasn’t called?” Mila throws a hand in the air, exasperated.
“I read into things,” I decide, leaning back in my chair at the Coffee Grid.
“No, you didn’t.” Mila swipes up a scone and bites into it, chewing loudly. “I don’t get him. Devon says I shouldn’t try. Brawler’s a mystery.”
“Yeah,” I agree. That doesn’t mean I want to solve his riddles any less. It doesn’t mean I’m not more intrigued, desperately curious, to better understand the slivers of him that he shows me. Never fully enough, never all at once. Only in shades that keep me moving closer, drawn like a moth to a flame.
“I don’t know, Mais. But a good night kiss is promising.”
“It was practically a peck,” I remind her. “Does that even count?”
She shrugs but her lack of a verbal answer means no, it doesn’t.
It’s been two days since my date with Axel and still, no word. I didn’t see him at work this morning, which was unusual.
Is he avoiding me? Does he wish he never asked me out? Is he disappointed by how our date ended?
Stop, I mentally berate myself. You are strong and confident. You had a first date with a good man. No need to overthink it.
“You’re overanalyzing this,” Mila points out gently.
“Wouldn’t you?”
She nods, looking as miserable as I feel.
“What do you think I should do?”
Mila huffs out a breath. “I think you should confront him.”
“What?” I panic at the thought, scratch that, the word confrontation. “I don’t do that,” I remind my best friend. For years, my sister encouraged me to speak up for myself with our mom. To tell her how hurtful her words and comparisons are. I’ve never been able to do it and since then, I’ve rarely been able to stand up for myself at all.
“I don’t mean a showdown. I think you should ask him. Just be upfront and real with him. He’s tossing you mixed signals and confusing the hell out of you. How do you feel right now?”
“Confused,” I admit.
“Exactly. Aren’t you tired of feeling that way?”
I think back to my relationship with Josh. I’m not a doormat and I’m done being walked on, or over. “Yes.”
“So, just ask him what’s up. Tell him you had a great time at dinner and thought he would have called. Ask him if he wants to do something—maybe grab a coffee? Just talk to him, Maisy.”
I let out an exhale that sounds like a hiss. “I’m already breaking out in hives,” I admit.
Mila chortles. “It’s not that bad. You need to stand up for yourself. If Axel isn’t willingly giving you any signs to go off of, then you need to seek them out on your own. Why shouldn’t you? You deserve to know where you stand, what he’s thinking. He can’t just keep giving you hope and then avoiding you.”
“You’re right,” I agree, thinking back to the last time we did this, just a few weeks ago. “I’ll…talk to him,” I force out the words.
Mila smiles and holds up her coffee mug for cheers. I clink mine against it, feeling less celebratory than my bestie.
“I’m not looking forward to this,” I remind her.
“I know. But you’re strong and confident, Maisy.”
I roll my eyes. “I regret telling you any of my daily affirmations and manifestations.”
“Don’t.” She sips her coffee, eyes dancing. “I’m only giving you this little nudge because you’re ready. Josh and Tim held you back for years. Don’t let any man, any person, have control over your emotions, your worth, like that. You deserve some clarification from Axel. Go get it.”
“I will,” I say, an edge to my tone that wasn’t there before. “You’re right.”
“Usually am.” Mila dusts her shoulder off and I groan.
Then, we both break into laughter, and I grin at my best friend. Even though she’s pushing me outside my comfort zone, she’s right. I deserve more, better.
And I’m going to take it.