His mother poured him another cup of coffee, a silent sign of approval. She shrugged when he wrinkled his brow. “What?”
“You really don’t object?” He found it hard to believe that he’d been so wrong about how she felt about his wife.
His mother rolled her eyes again. “Drink your coffee and stop being ridiculous.”
— —
Olivia had seen Rafe three times that week. Each time, her heart had skipped a beat and her stomach had pitched itself into her throat. He hadn’t come in to the diner for breakfast. He just grabbed coffee to go twice, each time flashing a smile so sexy it melted another layer of her resolve not to have anything to do with him. And the third time they’d bumped into each other in Wiarton, the larger town thirty minutes south where Rafe’s detachment was located. She’d stopped for a coffee at Tim Horton’s on her way back from doing her weekly big shop in Owen Sound.
Her routine hadn’t changed in four years. When they first got married, they’d shared a car, so their big shops had to happen when Rafe had a day off, or he’d go at the end of a shift if he wasn’t too tired. But for their second wedding anniversary, he’d surprised her with a new-to-them second car—a five-year-old Honda Civic that she still drove today. That had been the golden period in their marriage. The fighting started a year later, when he’d worked a double shift over the same weekend and didn’t remember their anniversary until she tersely pointed it out four days late.
Every Wednesday she worked a short shift, so she took the afternoon to head south. When they’d been together, she would have looked for his cruiser, that familiar black and white shape that made her so proud. And once they’d split, she’d look for it in a different way—a mix of longing and apprehension that filled her with sorrow. The Bruce Peninsula detachment had a lot of area to cover, so the chances of him randomly being in the same place as her were slim to none. Over time, she’d stopped looking.
So when someone tapped her on the shoulder as she stood in line for coffee, she thought maybe she’d dropped some money. Instead she got a face full of navy blue flak jacket. She tilted her head up and was rewarded with a slow grin that said Rafe remembered just how much she liked his uniform. She blushed. “Coffee break?”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving her face. Maybe he liked the way she’d pinked up. She liked remembering how she used to strip him out of the uniform when he wore it home. He cleared his throat and leaned in close. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might need to forgo the coffee and drag you back to my cruiser so we can make out a little.”
God, that thought made her a little lightheaded. But it also made her laugh, which was a good thing. She chuckled and shook her head. “Oh, Rafe.”
He grinned wider still. “Yes, baby?”
“Nothing.”Nothing. She needed to remember that.
“I like it when you say my name like that.”
“I didn’t say it like anything.”
“Mmm, I disagree. I heard a breathy little catch there.” He dropped his gaze to her mouth. “And I liked it. A lot.”
He needed to stop before she did something stupid. She lowered her voice and tried to sound stern. “Rafe.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I like it like that, too.”
“You’re incorrigible.” It was her turn to order, so she gratefully accepted the distraction and paid for a coffee and a small box of donut holes. She moved out of the way so Rafe could order, but she couldn’t force her feet to march out the door and over to her car.Go, she told herself fiercely.Stop flirting with your ex. She should pick a fight with him instead. That was the proper order of things. They broke up because he worked too much and she always came last in his priority list—if she rated at all. They should talk aboutthat, not how much he liked it when she said his name.
He turned from the counter and nodded to an empty bank of tables. “I’ve got five minutes, want to sit?”
As she was a total glutton for punishment, she followed him.
“Grocery shopping trip?” he asked as they settled in opposite seats.
She lifted one brow in mock surprise. Of course he remembered, but she didn’t need to give him that inch. He’d already declared a freaking courting season, for goodness sake.
They talked about nothing and everything. She couldn’t concentrate on words when, with the addition of his uniform, his everyday dark good looks were transformed into pure bad-ass sex appeal. It didn’t help that he kept glancing at her out from under long, thick eyelashes. The looks were pure intent, nothing coy about them, and she was grateful he had to get back to work soon.
“Last weekend was fun,” he finally said, turning the conversation to them.Them. Jeez, she didn’t want to discuss the electricity zinging back and forth. “Have you given any thought to bumping into each other at Neil and Becca’s stag and doe?”
So much thought she’d been worried she might spontaneously combust. “Not really, I’ve been busy.”
His lips twisted in disbelief. “Yeah, I bet.”
She bristled, welcoming the affront because it was a more effective shield against his full-court press than her willpower. “I really have been.”
He frowned. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Liv.”
“I know.” She bit back a sigh. It didn’t matter. “Listen, I’ve got cold stuff in the car, so—“
“Wait.” He slid one strong hand down her arm and loosely manacled her wrist with a loop of two fingers.
