Free Mayday by Olivia Dade

damnable reasons—were just so fucking hard to remember sometimes. Like when he listened to her stories and laughed so hard he snorted. Or when he talked about the kids in his swim classes with open affection. Or when he mentioned his parents with studied disinterest, even as his face sagged and his eyes grew lost.
    Most of all, it was hard to remember that she was completely wrong for him when he looked at her that way . The way he was looking at her right now. As if she contained everything interesting and desirable in his world, and he was desperate for her.
    Every minute they spent together, she found him harder to resist. He paid such close attention to everything she said and did. He worked so hard for their community. He was honest, funny, and remarkably stubborn. Especially when it came to wooing her.
    She needed to refuse his dinner invitation. Her lips, however, refused to shape the words.
    When a few seconds had passed without an answer from her, he reached out to touch her arm. “Helen?” he prompted. “Do you want to meet for dinner tonight?”
    His warm fingertips pressed lightly on her skin, and she nearly gasped at the instant heat that flared in that spot. No wonder she’d been avoiding physical contact with him for months. He could undermine her resistance with nothing but an innocent touch of his hand.
    With one smooth motion, she removed her arm from his reach.
    â€œI’m sorry.” Unable to meet his gaze, she studied the faux marble surface of the table between them. “I can’t.”
    He let out a long, slow breath, his fingers curling into his palms. “Do you have other plans?”
    That was a question she didn’t care to answer.
    â€œLet’s do dinner another night.” She glanced up at him and forced a smile. “Where would you like to go after the next May Day meeting?”
    Wes was a smart man and a politician. He recognized evasion when he heard it. His lips thinned in frustration, and a long, silent minute stretched between them before he responded.
    â€œSallie’s Diner again, I suppose. What better place for two friends to go?” He laughed, but the sound contained more bitterness than genuine amusement.
    Had her refusal actually hurt him? Did he really care that much about a date with her?
    â€œWes . . .” She stopped, not sure what to say. The truth would reveal more than she wanted to expose. Her lingering hurt at their ill-fated night together. Her insecurities. How much he meant to her, even without a single date together.
    I’d love to go out with you, but you’d only wind up hurting me again. Even if you didn’t intend to. Even if I tried my hardest to keep you. Because, let’s face it, you’d get tired of someone like me pretty damn quickly.
    â€œWhat?” He sat completely still and waited, his attention never wavering from her face.
    â€œNothing.” She stood up and tucked a dollar bill under her mug. “I’d better get back to work before my break ends. Thanks for asking me to get coffee with you.”
    Then she walked out of the café without another word, unable to look at him for another moment. If she did, she’d forget the various reasons she couldn’t date him. She’d agree to whatever he wanted. She’d wind up heartbroken.
    And she’d have no one to blame this time but herself.

6
    A s they neared the entrance to the bar, Chris’s steps slowed almost to a halt.
    â€œWhat’s up?” Wes asked his friend. “You change your mind about coming out tonight?”
    God, he hoped not. He needed to blow off steam, and Chris’s presence might keep him from going too far. He hoped.
    To be honest, though, he had no idea how Chris would act in a bar. Wes had only met the guy a month or two ago, when he’d visited Chris’s new bike-repair shop for routine equipment maintenance. They’d struck up a casual friendship based on their