Free State of Grace by Delia Foster Page B

“She’s the one you had me look up the–”
    “SHHHHHHH. We’re not talking about that, remember?” Leah interrupted urgently, trying to silently communicate with Patrick.
    His brow wrinkled in confusion, but he slowly nodded.
    Exasperated, Grace extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Patrick. When I saw you two dancing, I didn’t know that you two already knew each other. You work in HR at the hospital?” she asked dryly.
    “How’d you know?” he asked, clearly delighted. “Leah talk about me?” he asked in a stage whisper. “It’s about damn time, I’ve been chasing her for God knows how long.”
    Grace looked at Leah and felt a moment of pity. Leah looked like she’d swallowed a lemon. Mentally, she shook her head. She hoped Leah wasn’t serious about this guy. If she was, and they ended up procreating, their offspring were in serious trouble.
    “Ahhh, well, Grace, Patrick’s roommate took off with someone he picked up at the bar and told Patrick not to come home, so we were just going to head back to my place in a cab, but I live opposite from where y—”
    “I’ll make sure she gets home,” Sean interjected smoothly.
    “I can take a taxi by myself,” Grace objected.
    “Oh, you’re a doll,” Leah gushed, ignoring her. “I know she’ll be in good hands,” she whispered conspiratorially.
    In mere seconds, Leah and Patrick were out the door, and Grace was left sitting in her stool wondering exactly how she’d ended up in this predicament.
    Sean swiveled her chair around until she was facing him, yet again.
    “So Gracie, you gonna be a good girl and let me get you home?” His smile was different this time. It was gentle. There wasn’t a smirk, and he didn’t look like he was keeping any delicious secrets from her. Maybe he was just blabbering all that nonsense about wanting her because of the alcohol earlier. Maybe now he’d even become brotherly, and she could stop fantasizing about him.
    She twisted her lips to the side, frowning when he stared at the motion. His jaw worked and he looked like he was really trying to concentrate.
    “Hey, you OK? Are you sober?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay. Just get me home,” she sighed.
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
     
     
    She was thankful they’d been able to hail a cab quickly. She could get home more quickly which meant she could leave the presence of his unsettling company sooner.
    He held the door open for her, and she slid all the way to the very end, nearly pressing her body against the door.
    “Two stops!” she said quickly to the cab driver before reciting her address, then his.
    It was only ten minutes back to her place, but her torture that night knew no boundaries. 
    Sean rolled his window down half-way. The temperature outside was perfect. Not hot, not cold, and just a light breeze.
    “It’s gorgeous outside tonight,” he commented.
    “Yes.”  Her response was curt and brooked no invitation to continue the conversation. 
    “You guys fight?” the cabbie asked. “All the couples, they fight when they drink the liquor,” he said disapprovingly, his voice lightly accented. 
    Nosy bastard.
    “We’re not a couple,” she huffed. Sean snickered next to her.
    “You not married?”
    “No.” She wanted to tell him to just shut up and drive, but taxi drivers in New York City drove crazy enough already, and she didn’t want to piss him off any further.  Right now, the man held her life in his hands, and anyway, she was too tired to deal with a verbal altercation.
    “You should marry,” the cabbie advised sagely. “If you want the kids, you can’t wait long. In New York, the problem is the boys and girls, they have too much choice.  My parents picked my wife from a good family. We married twenty-five years,” he said proudly. “You have too much to choose, you never satisfied, always looking for something else better. You have only few choices, you make the decision—” the cabbie trailed on, spouting his pearls of wisdom