Colin shot her a look. “I wouldn’t exactly call it brave,” he said. “Chase has more money than he knows what to do with.”
She paused. “What are you talking about?”
“His mom died of a brain aneurism a few years ago. She left him everything. The big house in Connecticut, all the money she got in the divorce,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.
“I don’t understand,” Andie said, shifting to face Colin fully. “You told me he lives in a little studio apartment in New York.”
“Yeah, he does, although calling it a studio is generous. It’s more like a closet with a bathroom,” he said with a laugh, glancing in the rearview mirror. “I mean, he doesn’t flaunt his money. The way he dresses, the way he acts, you’d never know. But my point is, it’s easy to be brave,” he said, using finger quotes, “and choose a profession like that when you have a safety net.”
Andie furrowed her brow, nibbling on her thumbnail as she turned away from him to look out the passenger window again. A few weeks ago, she probably would have agreed with him, she realized with embarrassment. But now she was completely turned off by the fact that Colin was diminishing what Chase did for a living. He was brave, she decided; money had nothing to do with it. He was following his dream, and she respected that.
She envied that.
“If you could even call it a profession,” Colin added as an afterthought, dropping a lit match into the powder keg that was Andie’s emotional state.
She whipped her head toward him. “So you don’t think photography is a respectable thing to do?” she asked, her voice laced with resentment that was seemingly lost on Colin.
“It can be,” he said with a casual shrug, “for a select few. Rare talents. But is it a profession? I don’t think so. It’s an escape. Photographers, artists, writers, they’re all dreamers. Those are hobbies, not careers.”
And there it was.
She realized then that maybe she hadn’t told Colin about the fact that she was writing a novel not because she was ashamed that she was wasting her time, but because deep down, she knew that’s exactly what he’d think she was doing.
Andie stared at his profile, studying him as if she were seeing him for the first time. All at once she remembered Chase’s notion about how people judge other people’s happiness according to their own standards. She kept her eyes on him, the oddest feeling washing over her, like she was looking at a stranger.
“Are you happy?” she asked abruptly.
“Am I happy?” he repeated with a laugh, pulling his brow together, and Andie was suddenly reminded of something her mother used to say to her when she was young.
Anyone who repeats a question when they’re asked one is just buying time.
“Of course I’m happy,” he said with a smile, reaching over the console to take her hand. He brought it to his lips, kissing it gently before he flashed her a smile, bringing his eyes back to the road.
She sat there, her hand clasped in his, noticing that he didn’t ask her the same question in return. She wasn’t sure if it was lack of caring on his part, or the automatic assumption that she was happy which prevented him from asking, but to her, in that moment, both things were equally as offensive.
CHAPTER TEN
Chase watched the woman sitting next to him as she plucked the toothpick out of her martini glass and brought the olive to her lips. She lifted her eyes, making eye contact with him as she opened her mouth, her tongue slowly running along the bottom of the olive as she slid it off the toothpick and into her mouth. She chewed slowly, her eyes still locked on his, a small, seductive smile curving her lips.
What the hell was he doing here?
He had met this woman a few weeks ago at some tawdry open mic night, and before he’d left, she had given him her number. He thought she was sexy as hell in a dirty, provocative sort of way, and the way she had touched him as they spoke that night was a clear indicator of exactly why she was giving him her number. And although he had kept it since then, he never had any real intentions of calling her.
Until tonight.
He watched her twirling the toothpick between her fingers in a conspicuous attempt at being sexy, and he felt almost nauseated. Few things turned Chase off more than blatantly obvious attempts at being seductive. A girl who was inadvertently sexy, one who was totally unaware of her appeal, of the power that she wielded, that was what could drive him crazy with desire. Girls like that could bring him to his knees.
Girls like Andie.
He dropped his head slightly as he closed his eyes. Here he was with this beautiful woman who was clearly interested in giving him whatever he desired from her, and yet he could not get his mind off of his friend’s girlfriend.
He had decided to ask Colin to switch places at the last minute, a choice he questioned the entire plane ride home and throughout the week that followed. At the time he had convinced himself it was the smartest move; after what had almost happened between him and Andie on the dance floor the previous night, he thought it was in everyone’s best interest if they didn’t spend any more time alone together, at least not until they had some time away from whatever it was that had started to brew between them.
But when he forced himself to go upstairs and say good-bye to her—struggling under the pretense that everything was fine—the second he laid eyes on her, he wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision.
He could see in her eyes that she was confused, that she was hurt, although she tried her hardest not to let it show, and he wanted so much to reassure her, to let her know this had nothing to do with being upset with her, or not wanting to spend time with her.
It was exactly the opposite.
But there was no way for him to make it better. Colin was right there, within earshot of any conversation they might have. And even if he wasn’t, what could he say? I think I’m falling for you, and I know I can’t have you, so it’s probably better if we don’t spend any more time together?
He opened his eyes and took a slow sip of his drink, vaguely aware that the woman next to him was speaking, but he couldn’t find it in him to focus on the words. This date was supposed to distract him; on some subconscious level, Chase knew that he called this girl tonight because she was Andie’s exact opposite: jet-black hair that fell to her waist, tan skin, bedroom eyes, clothes that fit her like they were painted on. Everything about her screamed seductress; this girl was playing a game, dancing a dance that she had perfected, and they both knew it.
He had thought he was safe in choosing Andie’s complete antithesis, yet ironically, everything this woman did reminded him of her. When she cursed outright, the boorish words falling from her tongue with ease, he couldn’t help but think of how the corners of Andie’s mouth would turn down in disapproval and that little crease would appear between her brows whenever she heard someone use unnecessary profanity. When this woman looked at him with contrived doe eyes, trying to appear innocent while expressing her sexual prowess, he was reminded of how Andie could effortlessly disarm him with a simple look, her eyes wide and clear, hiding nothing. When this girl ordered a shot of bourbon and took it without so much as a shiver, he was reminded of Andie’s appalled reaction to the Lemon Drop, and he couldn’t help but smile.