Tane.
I spin to him and stare wide-eyed as he storms towards me in a few quick steps. “You okay?”
I nod, but take a step closer to him. An action Tane notices.
“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself,” Tane tells the man, eyes narrowed on him.
The man shrugs, taking in Tane’s size and demeanour. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”
“Well, try again and see what happens,” Tane threatens, staring the man down. The guy nods and leaves the library.
Tane spins to me. “I don’t like you being here alone.”
I pull in a breath. “I’m not here alone, there’s another librarian somewhere around the shelves.”
“Giselle …”
“What?”
“I don’t like it, is what,” he growls, crossing his arms over his chest.
“It’s a library, Tane,” I say monotonously, “not a male prison.”
“What did he want?”
“A date.”
His eyebrows rise. “And you said …”
My eyes narrow slightly at his tone. “I said no, considering he was accosting me. What the hell do you think I said?”
Did it seem like I was interested? Was me pulling my hand away not enough of a reaction for him?
He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m just angry. I didn’t like seeing him touch you.”
I rub my wrist. “Well learn to control it. What are you doing here anyway?”
“I thought I’d pick you up and take you out for dinner,” he says, looking at me hopefully.
“Why are we having dinner?” I ask, nibbling on my lower lip.
“I thought we could talk. Parker is with Gage,” he replies, pale-green eyes watching, dropping to my lips.
Alone-time with Tane is a bad idea.
I can’t get involved with him that way, and it’s hard being around him and having to fight my feelings. The way we have things now is perfect for all of those involved. Parker gets to see his dad and spend time with both of us, and I get to keep my heart intact. In some ways I trust Tane, and in other ways I don’t trust him at all. I’m confused. All I know is that things have to stay as they are now.
Uncomplicated.
Safe.
“Look, Tane, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say.
“Why not?” he asks.
“Ummmm,” I mutter, trying to think of an excuse.
“It’s just dinner, Giselle,” Tane says softly, looking down.
Oh hell.
“Okay, dinner sounds good,” I reply, mustering a smile. I never want to see him upset. Surely there’s a middle ground?
“What time are you finished?” he asks, shifting his feet.
I glance at the clock on the wall. “In about thirty minutes. Do you want to sit here and wait?”
“Yeah,” he replies, scanning the library. “I’ll read something.”
I grin. “Okay.”
He loves reading, maybe even more than I do. He goes and browses the shelves while I finish up with my work.
“You can head home. I’ll close up,” Kate, my co-worker, says.
My gaze darts to Tane who is reading DJing for Dummies. I laugh when he flashes me a cheeky look.
I smile widely as I reply, “That would be great, thanks Kate.”
I walk over to Tane and tilt my head to the side. “I’m pretty sure you already know that.”
He laughs, a smooth sound, and closes the book. “I was curious about what it said. Plus, you’re the one who suggested them for me.”
“Smartass.” I hold my hand out. “Want me to put it away?”
He stands. “It’s okay, I can do it.”
I put on my red cardigan as he returns the book.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we walk to my car. “I’ll follow you.”
He frowns like he doesn’t like that idea but doesn’t push me on it. “I thought we could try out that new place on William Street. The Italian one.”
I love Italian food, and he knows it. “Sounds good.”
I unlock my car door and get in. I watch Tane do the same, and then follow his car to the restaurant. We park right next to each other, and he gets out first to open my door.
“Thanks,” I say as I get out, close the door, and stand right in front of him. I look up into his handsome face as he places his hand on my lower back.
“Come on,” he says with an amused smile when I don’t move.
Why is he so … Tane-ish? I like everything about him, and I don’t even know why. Okay, maybe not everything, but still. It’s like I’m hanging onto my young image of him, and whenever his behaviour matches that image I fall deeper into his trap.
My heart is being stubborn and won’t let him go. Or let him in, either.
We get seated near the window, and then look over the menu. I can feel his eyes on me, but I keep my gaze down.
“I’ll have the carbonara,” I tell him. “What are you going to get?”
I look up to see his eyes on me and not the menu. I raise an eyebrow, but he just smiles. When the waitress arrives, he orders for the both of us.
His phone buzzes, so he puts it on silent and then looks up at me. “I want to talk about us.”
I instantly turn wary. “What about us? Everything is fine the way it is.”
“You’re not even a little bit curious if there could be something more between us?” he asks, resting his fist against his cheek.