Going the Distance by Julianna Keyes Page B

hours and see them exchange little looks, like how I’m desperate or stupid or something, following you around when you don’t fucking want me.”
    “I didn’t—”
    The cab rolled up and he reached for the door, but she slapped his hand away, hard. “Don’t get in this cab, Jarek. Don’t come over. Don’t call me—Oh wait, you can’t, right? Because you’ve never bothered to ask for my number. Just as well.”
    She got in and slammed the door, keeping her eyes averted as she gave the driver her address and they pulled away.
    He cursed and ran a hand through his hair, flagging down the cab that trailed the first, giving the driver a hundred kuai extra if he drove fast, which the guy was more than happy to do. Jarek spoke approximately nine words of Mandarin, none of which were Olivia’s address, which he didn’t even know, if he were being honest, instead of the dick he usually was. He gave the guy directions and they got to the cold, concrete building a minute ahead of her.
    He leaned against the green door and watched Olivia pay her driver, saying good night in Mandarin before climbing out and waving. She turned and froze when she saw him.
    He held up his hands in surrender before she could curse at him some more. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
    She fumbled in her purse for her keys, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t care.”
    “I’m really sorry, Olivia. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
    “Well, you did.”
    “I know. I’m sorry. I regretted it as soon as I said it. I didn’t know it bothered you so much or I would have taken it back right away.”
    She found the keys and elbowed her way past him, unlocking the door. “There’s nothing to take back. You’re right. I’m not your girlfriend. I don’t know anything about you, and tonight I realized I don’t want to.”
    He could see tear tracks on her cheeks, shimmering in the moonlight. He had hurt a lot of people in his life, but he’d never felt bad about it. Until now. “Let me up.” He ignored her efforts to close the door in his face and followed her up the stairs, keeping his hands to himself. He waited while she unlocked both doors, knowing it was pretty much impossible for her to close them if he wouldn’t let her, which he wouldn’t. She must have recognized the futility, too, because she didn’t try. She stalked into her room and hurled her purse on the bed, partially unzipping her jacket before remembering how low cut that damn shirt was and deciding to keep it on.
    He locked both doors behind him and gave her a challenging look, but she just stared back, stone-faced. She might be kind and pretty, but she was really fucking hurt and angry, and he deserved all of it. All because she’d put her head on his shoulder and he’d put his arm around her, even though they’d done far more intimate things. She was just the only woman he’d put his arm around in a really long time, and he was a really shitty person.
    “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
    “I heard you. It doesn’t matter.”
    “I’ll go back to the bar and tell them, if it’ll make you feel better.”
    “It won’t. But you should go back anyway.”
    She was standing stiffly against the wall between the bedroom and the office, and he saw the moment she rested against it, tired and sad, even though she tried not to let it show.
    “I’ll do whatever you ask. Just don’t tell me to go.”
    She laughed humorlessly. “I don’t know what to ask you, Jarek. Every time I ask you something, you refuse to answer.”
    He swallowed thickly. He was afraid of this. “Ask me anything.”
    “What’s your middle name?”
    “Andrew.”
    She looked at him sharply, surprised. “When’s your birthday?”
    “January thirty-first.”
    “Have you ever been married?”
    “No.” He approached her and she watched warily, not moving. He unzipped her jacket the rest of the way and pushed it down her shoulders, then tossed it behind him toward the table.
    “Don’t,”