Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2) Read online

  Remembering that I’m mid-conversation, I open my mouth to politely decline his offer, but he cuts me off. “And seeing as though those two have been the only ones to coax that beautiful smile onto your face for the last half of my class, I say we bring them along.”

  My head jerks backward and my brows pinch in confusion. “What?”

  Grady closes the distance between us, then leans into my personal space and gestures to the couple. “That’s my friend, Liam Kelley. I happen to know he’s very interested in learning more about your friend, and I’m very interested in learning about your smile. It’s a win-win.”

  Is this guy for real?

  I shake my head and offer a snort in reply. “You’re interested in learning about my smile?”

  He tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes. Then those eyes fill with such intensity, I’m held captive as he states, “I am. I want to understand why you feel unworthy of your own smile. I’ve watched you this entire class and you want to know what I see?”

  I want to tell him no. To tell him I’m scared to death to know what he sees. But I don’t get a chance before he answers his own question.

  “What I see is exactly this: You refuse to smile for yourself, but you smile for her. With everyone else, including me, it’s forced, but with her, it’s real. And it’s beautiful. I’m interested in understanding why.” He shrugs. “Call me selfish, but I also want to learn what it takes to get you to flash that gorgeous smile at me. For me.”

  Grady finishes with another matter-of-fact lift of his shoulders, as though he didn’t just say the most profound thing anyone has ever said to me. And also, the most romantic.

  My damn knees weaken again and I know it’s time for me to skedaddle before I’m forced to acknowledge the effect his words have on me. I break my stare just in time to see Spencer give Liam a farewell wave. She turns to head in my direction, wide grin on her face and a light in her eyes that’s undeniable. His protective stare follows her retreat and as I watch, I know I have to do this for her.

  And with her fast approach, I know I have to do it now.

  I accept his invitation with one word.

  “Tonight,” I whisper, then explain. “It has to be tonight, before she has time to think about it.”

  He gives no noticeable reaction to my answer. He doesn’t look disappointed. His face demonstrates nothing as he nods while taking my number.

  Grady, a very perceptive individual as demonstrated about five seconds ago, does not miss the fact that this date will take place for Spencer’s benefit only. As much as it saddens me, that’s just the way it has to be. It’s the way I am.

  But it’s his poised expression that betrays him. He’s determined. And even worse, he’s confident.

  I steel my walls and give him a curt nod, resolute in my decision, before turning to intercept Spencer and guiding her to the exit.

  I am doing this for her.

  I am doing this for her.

  Maybe if my head keeps repeating it, my heart will finally catch on.

  But as it rouses, as it begins to pound relentlessly against my ribcage, I have a feeling my heart may be even more stubborn than Grady Bennett.

  “HE’S GONE, SPENCE. HE’S not coming back.”

  The words I’d spoken to Spencer a little over an hour ago still wreak havoc in my heart. It hurt me to say them out loud, knowing the sting she would feel from my brutal honesty.

  But they needed to be said.

  I know she still hasn’t let go of the dream that was Dalton Greer, and I totally get it. I get that she fell in love with him the day she found him sitting on her porch, bruised and beaten. I understand they had a connection that formed that day, a bond that only strengthened through the years they spent together as friends. And I’m not going to lie, I was fucking over the moon when they finally got together.

  But more than that, I can relate to losing someone important. One minute they’re there and everything is hunky-dory, the next they’re gone, with no explanation of why.

  I’ve had my closure. We buried Rat. I know exactly where his body was laid to rest.

  But Dalton, well . . . I can’t imagine the agony Spencer experienced. Experiences. Hoping and wishing he’d show up one day, then the next, then the next. And I think she still believes he will miraculously appear, because that’s just Spencer. Forever the optimist.

  I, however, am not. And it’s my duty as her best friend to bring her back down to earth sometimes.

  So I had to remind her of the obvious in the midst of her tantrum about going out this evening. I know what I saw between them, and I’d be a shit friend to turn down this date just because being around Grady makes me all weird and awkward. I may suck at my own love life, but Spencer’s I have mastered beautifully since we were in high school. I was the push needed to get Dalton to admit how he felt about Spencer, and so help me, I will help her find love again.

  Starting with the ruggedly handsome Liam Kelley.

  I have a good feeling about him.

  And so will she before tonight is over, I just know it.

  So as we pull into Bambino’s parking lot, with Spencer’s ridiculously loud engine drawing much unwanted attention, I affirm my plan. I will focus all efforts on Spencer, while pretending to be on a date with Grady. Totally doable.

  We coast into an empty spot and once she cuts the engine and only silence exists, we look at each other and nod resolutely, grins on our faces.

  At the same time, we step out of her car, and arms linked, we make our way to the front of the restaurant. As we approach, I take in Spencer’s appearance, and almost laugh. We could not be more opposite. Yet, that’s how we’ve always been. My yin to her yang.

  I’m donning a sleek, seductive black minidress, clinging to my every curve, with matching six-inch black heels that could be lethal weapons if need be. My dark hair is in a tight bun secured to the base of my neck, and my eyes are framed with a smoky outline a shade lighter than my dress.

  Spencer is hippie-Spencer, the only modern thing on her body being skinny jeans. She’s clad in a peasant top the color of rust, beige heels that I would deem practically flats (probably only three or four inches), and her hair is loose, tousled blonde waves, with two tiny braids crowning her head. Her blue eyes are bright with excitement, and I smile to myself at the sight before releasing her as the two men come into view.

  Looking down, I carefully step ahead of Spencer, and the woodsy smell of Liam’s cologne wafts in the air as he passes to greet my friend. I grin slightly, then my eyes lift from the pavement. As soon as I see Grady, all breath escapes me. It’s an involuntary reaction, an effect I try to push to the back of my mind, but I’m helpless against it.

  His light brown hair is still secured at the back of his head, highlighting his perfectly pronounced jaw as he smiles back at me. He looks absolutely gorgeous. His muscular upper body is covered by a navy blue button-down, sleeves folded at quarter-length showcasing his corded forearms, flexed as he reaches for me. My eyes drift downward, noting the perfect fit of the charcoal dress pants that hug his hips and how they break just at the right length above his black dress shoes. Slowly, my gaze lifts, and I’m met with the same striking blue eyes that captured my attention today in class, seemingly brighter as they taper at the corners with his widening smile.

  “Hi,” he breathes, equally bereft of air as he takes my hand into his.

  “Hi,” I answer. The soft, low tone of his voice is surprisingly powerful as it strikes against my chest. Again, my protective walls tremble with its force, but I reinforce them, refusing to acknowledge the warmth of his free hand pressed gently against my lower back. His touch remains as he guides me into the restaurant, and I also force myself to disregard the sad truth that no one has ever done that for me.

  It feels nice.

  I focus my attention on the low rumble of Liam’s voice from behind as he and Spencer fall into easy conversation. As we wait to be seated, I chance a glance at Grady,
who seems to be eyeing the two with a bit of apprehension.

  Odd.

  He’s the one that asked for this date because of Liam’s interest in Spencer, yet uncertainty tugs at his features. After a few seconds, he disengages his stare from them, bringing his brilliant eyes to meet mine. All signs of hesitation disappear, and he smiles.

  Those damn eyes.

  I’m so screwed.

  I give him a grin back. Grady tightens his stare and cocks his head to the side, a devastating smile still present on his face as he considers me. I narrow my eyes back at him, knowing those damn eyes have tagged that falsity of my smile. Which makes him grin . . . wider.

  My expression doesn’t change in the slightest, with the exception of the tightening of my jaw preventing the reaction he’s looking for.

  I repeat. I am so screwed with this guy.

  And not the normal screwing involved with a guy.

  Fuck.

  I’m totally out of my element.

  As soon as we’re seated, both Grady and I order glasses of Cabernet; Spencer, Pinot Grigio; and Liam, water.

  It’s then that I really look at Liam for the first time tonight, and I have to say, he’s even more handsome up close. His dark hair is down, shaggy waves brushing the shoulders of his dark grey shirt. He watches Spencer intensely from the side as she says something to me, something that causes his bearded mouth to quirk into the tiniest of smiles. But I’m unable to comprehend what she’s saying because as I watch him, I’m struck again by a sense of unnerving familiarity.

  “Cassie.” Spencer’s voice draws my attention away from Liam. I shake my head then slide my stare to meet hers.

  “Sorry,” I state, clearing my throat. “I just zoned right on out there, didn’t I?”

  Spencer giggles, then adds, “Ya think?”

  I smile with her laughter just as the waitress sets down our drinks on the table. We proceed to order our food, then I decide to take matters into my own hands by giving her the shove she needs. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

  Angling away from Spencer, I give her my shoulder, twisting in my seat to fully face Grady. When his right brow lifts in question, I lean into him and explain nonchalantly under my breath, “Those two need to get better acquainted.”

  “Ah, I see.” Grady whisks my glass of Cabernet off the table and hands it to me before grabbing his own. He brings it to his lips, and as he swallows, the movement of his throat momentarily mesmerizes me. Visions of my teeth nipping the skin underneath his perfectly sculpted jaw fill my head, so pronounced, I bite down on my bottom lip. His stare falls to my mouth, and his eyes remain there as he casually leans to set his glass onto the table before finally raising them to meet mine. He grins a mischievous, lopsided grin, then states, “I think perhaps we should get better acquainted. Don’t you?”

  The seductive tenor of his voice enters my mind and travels my body, striking me in a place least expected. Warmth pools between my legs and I cross them to relieve the sudden ache his voice alone elicited. Heat courses through my body, searing upward, until finally ending its deliciously torturous burn as it settles onto the tops of my cheeks.

  As though sensing my body’s traitorous reaction, Grady’s eyes turn molten as he watches me take my own much-needed sip of wine. The sip turns into a long draw, then with shaking hands, I set the glass on the table beside Grady’s.

  I fight the urge to fan myself.

  When did it get so fucking hot in here?

  Before I can answer my own rhetorical question, all warmth is lost as a shower of chilled Pinot Grigio rains down mercilessly upon me. Or my dress, rather.

  A loud gasp escapes me as I frantically begin swiping the droplets off the soaked, now freezing, material. Wide-eyed, I look across the table just in time to see Spencer steal my Cabernet and down the entire glass before announcing to the entire restaurant, “Cassie, we need to go to the bathroom. Now.”

  The men stand as we rise from our seats.

  “Ya think?” I repeat her earlier question, then watch completely dumbfounded as she apologizes to our dates. She latches so mercilessly on to my arm, it’s quite possible she’s drawing blood as she pulls me from the table. Her legs move at lightning speed, and I trip approximately five hundred seventy-four times in my six-inch heels before we finally make it to her mark: the bathroom.

  The door closes and as Spencer turns, I inquire through my teeth, “What is wrong with you?”

  Her face is flushed and her breaths are shallow. She raises her hand to her chest, and I begin to look around for a paper sack for her to breathe into before she passes out. The closest I come is the brown paper towel hanging from the dispenser.

  My eyes find hers again and she shakes her head. “I’m losing it, Cass. Losing. It.”

  “I’m about to lose it if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on,” I respond, half-worried and half-pissed that wine is dripping onto my very expensive shoes. I lean toward the counter and hastily pull the paper towel from the dispenser, then lift my foot from the floor to dry off the leather.

  My poor babies.

  Once they’re dry, I place them on the floor, then glare at Spencer who says nothing, but continues shaking her head while the blood drains from her face. I narrow my eyes in frustration and step forward, fully intent on flicking her forehead, but my movement seems to prompt her ability to speak.

  “I just saw Dalton. Well, what looked like Dalton, only not really, but kinda.”

  My neck jerks, and I subtly shake my own head. “What? I’m not following. What are you talking about?”

  “Cass. Please don’t freak out, but Liam . . . he looks like Dalton, kinda. In the right light, I mean, I know that’s completely crazy but . . .” She bounces excitedly, and adds, “Oh. And he said something outside that made it sound like he knew you. I thought it was odd, but now . . .”

  At that, I suck in a breath. The familiarity I felt earlier suddenly doesn’t seem so far-fetched.

  Spencer inhales deeply, then pauses in reflection before reaffirming, “Okay, I am definitely losing it, Cass.”

  After allowing myself a few seconds to think and forcing a few calming breaths, I come back to reality. And when I land, I’m understandably disturbed because now I feel like I’m losing it. This entire conversation is ludicrous. There’s no way Liam Kelley is Dalton Greer. Absolutely no way.

  And I refuse to allow Spencer to talk herself into believing it either.

  So I plant my hands on my hips, cock my head, and give her my best I-know-you-don’t-want-to-but-you’re-coming-back-to-reality-with-me glare.

  Her eyes grow wide, then she states in a low, strangely calm voice, “I swear on your Kindle, Cass.”

  I can’t help it. I gasp out loud. Spencer knows the importance I place on my Kindle and everything downloaded onto it. She also knows the meaning of daring to swear upon it. It’s not to be taken lightly. My Kindle is my everything.

  I open my mouth, and only one word manages to escape as the gravity of the situation begins to sink in. “Nooooooooo . . .”

  She nods and still in disbelief, I can do nothing other then repeat, “Nooooooooo . . .”

  She keeps nodding, but when I open my mouth again, her hand clamps over it as she breathes, “Yesssssssss . . .”

  Our stares remain locked, but in this moment, I need to know. Not so much for me, but for Spencer. I place my feet back into my drying heels, throw open the door, and exit the bathroom, Spencer’s own heels clicking madly as she races behind me. Somehow we find ourselves hidden by a six-foot plastic monstrosity covered in leaves, and once we’re settled, I push an annoying branch out of the way and lean forward to better assess Liam Kelley as he sits at the table. I watch him and Grady as they seem to be in a somewhat heated discussion. Well, one-sided discussion as Grady seems to really be laying into Liam, judging by the hardened expressions on both their faces. Liam’s darkened eyes are glaring back at Grady, who has just gained points in the badass department, becaus
e no joke, Liam Kelley looks downright terrifying right now. Not that I’m tallying.

  But as I watch their interaction, I find myself squinting in effort to see Dalton Greer somewhere in Liam’s fierce appearance. “I don’t know, Spence. I mean,” I tilt my head to the side, “maybe?”

  “Maybe I’m just losing it. I saw it, but from far away, now I’m not so sure,” she whispers. I watch as Liam’s face tightens further into a scowl, a look I find extremely memorable. Dalton wasn’t a very happy boy, and neither is Liam Kelly at the moment.

  My voice is practically quaking when I finally speak. “No, I can see it. Kind of . . . Now that you’ve pointed it out, I mean, I see the resemblance.”

  Spencer’s fingers curl over the tops of my shoulders. “What the hell are we going to do?”

  I begin to answer, but instead my words are cut off and my body jerks in surprise when I hear a voice call, “Are you ladies okay?”

  Perhaps we’re not as covert as we thought.

  Together, we twist our bodies in the direction of a somewhat alarmed waitress. “We’re fine,” I state at the same time as Spencer.

  Together, we silently watch her face screw up with our simultaneous answer. Her uncertainty is clear about whether or not to announce the two crazy ladies hiding behind this fake-ass tree, but then she makes her decision and leaves well enough alone by hauling ass to the kitchen.

  I tear my eyes away from the swinging doors and direct them at Spencer. “What do you want to do?”

  She shrugs and inhales deeply before answering. “I guess just have dinner without looking at him? Maybe my mind is just superimposing Dalton’s face on Liam as payback for the last five years of useless pining?”

  It’s then that my own face screws up with my response. “Highly unlikely.”

  We look back to the table, and I can feel Spencer’s nerves rolling off her in repeated, anxiety-ridden waves. I’m about to make the decision for her when she finally releases her grip from my shoulders and stands on her own, resolute. “Well, I guess we just go over there and act normal. Like nothing happened.”