Page 8 of This Could Be Us
“I wasn’t born there,” I admit, “but my grandmother lived there, and we’d visit her during the summers. She taught me how to cook many things, butcarne guisadais my favorite. It’s the best comfort food. I make it for my family all the time.”
The word “family” lands in the air, weighing it down a moment before he speaks. “What division do you work in? I’ve only been here a year, but I would have remembered seeing you.”
At that I look over my shoulder and our glances tangle. My breath hovers between my lungs and my lips, trapped in my chest as he waits for my answer.
“I don’t work here.” I lick my lips and lower my eyes but force myself to look back up. “My husband does.”
His expression turns inscrutable, but something, a distant cousin to disappointment, rises in his eyes before he crushes it.
“Your husband.” He nods and turns his attention to the buffet, eschewing the green beans but transferring a conservative dollop of potatoes to his plate. “Lucky man.”
I manage a wan smile and face forward, knowing it’s best we end the conversation there but hating to leave. It’s not just sex Edward has been stingy with lately. It’s attention. Conversation. Interest. All the things I found unexpectedly in a few moments with a stranger, and it feels like the sun on my face after winter. So hard to turn away from that warmth when you’ve stood out in the cold.
The touch at my elbow makes me jump and almost drop my plate.
“Whoa,” Edward says, chuckling and reaching to steady my hand. “You okay?”
“Yes, of course.” I smile up at him and force my eyes not to stray to the quiet man behind him. My tiny prickle of guilt is unfounded, unreasonable.
“Great.” Edward plucks a cherry tomato from the salad I don’t even recall putting on my plate. “Sorry about that. Amber was working on something before we left the office and needed to update me.”
“Sure,” I answer absently, unable to even arouse my suspicion about Edward’s assistant after the impact of my brief interaction with the stranger. “You getting a plate?”
“Yeah, I’ll grab one.” He turns, stopping and saying a little too loudly, “Cross, didn’t notice you there.”
I spin around, my wide stare pinging between my husband and the man he’s complained about so much.
“You’reCross?” I blurt. “The geek?”
Horror creeps into the vat of silence following my words as I realize just how badly I’ve stepped in it.
“I mean…” I tighten my fingers around the edge of my plate and gulp. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“No need to apologize,” Cross says, addressing my comment butnever looking away from Edward. “I see my reputation has preceded me.”
The two men stare at one another, hostility crackling in the air, though both their faces remain impassive. They couldn’t be more different. My husband with his winter pallor, skin pale and lightly freckled. His wavy dark blond hair cut close and parted on the side. Edward has always been a charismatic charmer who draws people effortlessly. Cross, a few inches taller, broader, somehow projects a guardedness that makes him seem unapproachable, only that wasn’t how I felt a few moments ago, before he knew who I was. Whom I was married to. A muscle twitches in the unyielding line of his jaw, and his eyes crinkle at the corners with an approximation of indolent amusement that doesn’t match the flatness of his stare.
“My wife,” Edward murmurs smoothly, placing his hand at my back and gently guiding me a little closer. “Soledad.”
There is no thaw in the cold eyes that flick between my husband and me. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Barnes,” he says, the formality such a contrast to the easy warmth between us before.
“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Cross.” I glance up to meet his eyes briefly.
“Judah,” he replies, his gaze softening a fraction.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “What?”
“My name is Judah. Judah Cross.”
I offer a smile that feels like wax hardening on my face. “I’ve heard a lot about…” I let the words peter out because he probably knows that everything I’ve heard about him from Edward has been an insult.
“Let’s go sit down,” Edward says, clamping his fingers around my wrist, probably harder than he realizes because it makes me wince. I bite back a gasp but send a glare from his fingers tightened painfully around me up to his face. His hand falls away, and he rubs the sore spot on my wrist. “Sorry, babe, but we need to find our seats and eat. I’m starving.”
He guides us forward. I don’t look back, but I am supremelyconscious of Cross… Judah… behind us. Before Edward has even finished loading his plate, I break away and stride swiftly toward the tables across the room, sit down without checking the place cards to see if it’s the right spot. Even conscious of Edward’s coworkers around us, I can’t wipe the scowl from my face.
“What’s your problem?” Edward mutters in a low voice for my ears only, smiling at a coworker across the table. “You’re the one who made me look like a fool in front of the very man I told you has been on my case. I should be the angry one.”
“You left me alone to skulk off with Amber,” I say hotly, stabbing the drumstick with a fork.