4. Keane

CHAPTER 4

KEANE

Henry Carter is the cutest damned thing, and he's so off-limits, it's not even funny.

But my date with him is sanctioned by technology. I guess the app figured a coffee date was a good idea since we wouldn't want the commitment of Valentine's Day dinner with a stranger in case it went badly.

As I race across the street with him, I think about my life choices. My friend sends me on a date, telling me I need to get out more… and who do I match up with but my son's ex-boyfriend. The one I turned down last month when he asked me for sex. The one I admitted my attraction to.

Such a bad idea.

Except I can't seem to stop myself. Part of me is thinking Okay, I already know I like him . A lot. And if this computer matched us up, maybe there's something more here. I want to find out.

Plus, it would be rude to back out now. I can't say No, I'm not going to go on this scheduled date because it's you . That would make him feel terrible.

Yeah, I'm sticking with this date for Henry's sake. I'll go with that.

He immediately gets under my defenses in the simplest way: he holds my hand like it's the most normal thing in the world.

It's not normal. Not in my circles.

I haven't been on many dates in recent years, too wrapped up in running my winery. And the few dates I've been on with men … they haven't gone well.

Henry and I walk into the shop and are immediately enveloped by the interior warmth. "What would you like?" I ask, headed to the counter.

He glances around, a tense look on his face, and mutters, "Banana nut muffin." He clears his throat. "I mean… nothing. I mean Earl Grey tea. Do you mind if I go wash my hands?"

I wonder if I'm going to get ghosted, but I can't do anything about that, so I nod.

After I place our orders, he comes back and sits with me to wait for our drinks. I notice he's carefully not touching anything.

He sees me watching him and looks sheepish. "I have this thing. It's kind of an anxiety thing. I wash my hands a lot."

"Oh, sure. You do that at my house, too, now that I think of it. It's okay. Let me know if there's anything I can do to make you feel better."

Henry stares at me.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

"No. I'm just not used to people accommodating my weirdness."

"What's so weird about that? Or accommodating, for that matter. I mean, maybe we need to get you some lotion if your skin gets dry. But anxiety is very common. I have it, too."

"You do?"

I smile at him. "Yeah, definitely. Running a business? I can?—"

The barista calls my name, and I excuse myself from Henry and get our drinks, which are in a tray, plus a bag of muffins. I meet Henry at the condiment station so he can add cream and sugar to his tea. Once we're all set, he offers to carry the muffin bag, though he looks at it oddly before picking it up, and then he takes my other hand as we exit the building.

Again, his easy affection makes something in my chest swell.

I walk him to his car, even though it's still bucketing rain, since I figure I'm going to dry off soon enough. I leave the food and drinks with him, then jog to my car, which is only half a block away.

When I pull into my garage, Henry is sitting in his car at the curb, waiting for me. I gesture him inside.

"I'm still soaking wet," he says as he passes me our food.

I put it on a cabinet and start taking off my shoes and socks. "Hang on. Let me get you something to wear," I say, hustling to my room and getting the smallest T-shirt and sweatpants I own, along with socks. Henry will still be swimming in my clothing, but at least he'll be warm.

When I hand them to him and wave him to a bathroom to change in, I can't help but wipe a trickle of water running down his forehead. I freeze, realizing that I'm perhaps being overly familiar, but he doesn't seem to mind. Instead, he gives me a grateful smile and scoots into the bathroom.

I race upstairs to change as well, putting on a thermal shirt and plaid flannel pants since I figure that we're going to be trapped by the rainstorm for a while. I glance in the mirror, and my hair is a mess, so I drag a towel through it, trying to get it to be less unruly. It doesn't listen.

When I get back, Henry has folded up his wet clothes, but I take them from him. "Want me to put these in the dryer?" I ask.

"Yes, please."

"Meet me in the living room," I say. "I'll be back in a second."

After I take care of his laundry, I return to the living room, and my heart does another leap. Henry is cozied up on the couch like he lives here. He's got the gray blanket over his lap, and he's sipping his tea. I assume he washed his hands again while he was in the bathroom.

I take a seat on the morris chair next to him and smile.

"Thanks for all this," he says, holding up the tea and indicating the dry T-shirt he's wearing.

I really wish I could've watched him change—but that would've been way too creepy.

"I thought about it on the drive here," he continues, "and I'm glad the app matched us up. In a funny way, it legitimizes what I'd already been feeling. Like we have a connection."

"I can't deny that," I admit. "I agree. Being assigned a date by some algorithm makes it seem like maybe we could make sense together."

The more I look at him, the more my defenses are being eroded.

I see the way his clever eyes light up with amusement. The way he's so sincere with his thanks. The sexy way he studies me—like he wants to eat me up.

I'm done denying my attraction to him. I know it's wrong, but I'm doing it anyway. He's a consenting adult. He has a car and the ability to leave.

And this is what he wanted in the first place.

But I have a question first. "I need to know, though, whether you want me for me or for revenge."

"I like you because you're you," Henry says. "The revenge was an excuse." He pauses. "Well, I was really hurt, and I did want to hurt Kerrigan. But if I didn't like you to begin with, I wouldn't have tried it." Another pause, this one longer. "That's kind of fucked-up, isn't it?"

I shrug. "A little. I probably shouldn't be okay with it, but I am."

"When I got together with your son…" I wince, and Henry soldiers on. "When that happened, I didn't know you. I'd never met you, and frankly, I likely would've thought you were way out of my league. Ignoring our age gap—which I don't care about, by the way—I was afraid of asking for what I really wanted."

"You came here looking for revenge. Which is asking for what you want—or at least what you wanted in that moment."

"True. But it's also true that I've had a big-time crush on you ever since I first got to know you. And that I want you."

Well. "You know I'm attracted to you, too. But that's not all. I want more with you."

"You don't want to feel like I'm using you?"

"That's part of it. I'm also at the age where I'm not willing to just mess around. And that might not be fair to you."

"Keane," Henry says, "if you haven't figured out that I want something serious, too, then I haven't been clear. If you were some rando, I wouldn't have come to you. It's because it's you. I like how"—he gestures at me—"elegant you are. I like how you know so much about wine and entertaining. I like that your house is put together and you seem to like art. You and I can always talk about ideas, too. Those things matter to me. I could talk about them in school, and maybe I'll go back and finish up my degree once I get the bed-and-breakfast running or, I don't know, finish it online. But I'm not looking for something superficial. I'm looking for something real." He bites his full lower lip. "When I'm around you, I don't feel lonely. So yeah, it wouldn't be just messing around to me."

I stare at Henry. What right does he have to be this sweet? To be this open?

When I can finally speak, I say, "Gotta be honest: I'm super pissed at my son right now. He treated you really poorly."

Henry shrugs. "I mean, that's the way a lot of people treat me. I can be a bit of a doormat."

"I wish you wouldn't see yourself that way. When I look at you, I see someone who is damned good at asking for what he wants."

He blushes. "When I propositioned you, all I was thinking was how pissed I was and how selfish Kerrigan was. I knew it was a long shot that you'd say yes—but a shot nonetheless."

I grin despite myself. "If only I could have said yes. I really wanted to." Want to, now. "I'm disappointed in how Kerrigan acted, but sadly, I'm not surprised."

Henry gives me a funny look. "It's a little weird for me to be talking about him with his dad."

"You know that thing about kids blaming their parents for their issues? What they don't know is that parents sometimes blame themselves for the kid's issues as well."

"How could you be responsible for Kerrigan cheating on me? That's on him. I don't get the impression that you modeled that kind of behavior."

"I didn't. And while his mom is selfish, which I found out after I married her, she was generous with him." I scrub my hands over my face. "I doubt Kerrigan told you this, but when he was a baby, he had a lot of health issues. For a few months, we were afraid he wasn't going to make it. If you're a parent, and every time you go to the doctor's office they tell you your child could die… when he survives, it feels like an absolute miracle." Henry's face is so soft right now, I could kiss him. I keep going, though. "Couple that with me and Jennifer not really knowing each other and being so young …" I sigh. "Anyway, once Kerrigan got to be a little older, and we were out of the woods in terms of his health, we had a hard time saying no to him. He didn't end up with boundaries I now wish he had. And I don't know how to teach him that anymore."

"Do you still wish you could teach him?"

"Of course." I'm not really thinking about Kerrigan, though. Instead, I'm studying Henry. He's so beautiful, with his wide-open eyes and his hair that's all fluffy from getting rained on and then towel-dried. He's wearing my clothes and sitting on my furniture, and he just looks like he belongs in my life.

While part of me feels like an utter asshole for even thinking it, the selfish part of me wants him for myself.

"I can't help it," Henry muses.

"Help what?" I say.

"Trying again."

"With Kerrigan?" I ask, my eyebrows raising.

He snorts. "No. Asking you again to be with me. After all, the app matched us up. Isn't that telling us something?

I let out a breath. "Maybe it is."

"So, what do you say, Keane? Let me touch you?"

Jesus tap-dancing Christ, Henry is going to be the death of me.