She briskly finished her shower and headed for the diner. Sunday was a short day, as they closed at one in the afternoon. Maybe she’d go for a hike after work, do something physical to burn off the energy. But the good intentions disappeared as she arrived at the diner to find Rafe sitting on the steps.
“Frank didn’t let you in?” she asked in disbelief.
He stood and offered a rueful smile. “I didn’t ask. I thought I’d wait for you here.”
“It’s cold out!” She pulled the door open, holding it for him to follow her in. She shrugged out of her fleece zippy and wrapped on her mini apron. She put coffee on then dashed back to the office to grab the money tray for the till. She counted out a float for her apron, writing the amount on an IOU note for the drawer, steadfastly ignoring her ex sitting at the counter. When the coffee machine beeped, she finally gave him a bit of attention—in the form of a cup of joe. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
“You look rough.”
“Last night didn’t go exactly as I expected.”
“Really? People didn’t bend to your magnetic will?”
He gave her an inscrutable look. “I only want one person to bend on my command, Liv.”
She blushed. Damn him. “Are you up for food? Or are you too hungover?”
“How do you know I was drinking? Rumour mill find you this early?”
She bit her lip. In the kitchen, Frank wasn’t listening, but he wasn’tnotlistening either. “I heard you last night. At Dean’s. Just the first bit when you were hollering my name.”
He groaned. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Not quite Romeo and Juliet, eh?” She stumbled over the words as she realized what she was saying. “Not that I would want you to be Romeo. And I’m no Juliet.”
He smiled, and it was soft and deep, reaching all the way to his eyes, but it wasn’t happy. “I know, baby. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She ignored the nickname. “Do you want eggs?”
He shook his head. “Just toast. Four slices, please. With peanut butter.”
“This is a meal you could make at home.” She cast him a baleful glance and he just stared back at her, naked emotion written all over his face. He was done pretending he couldn’t cook for himself. “Well, it’s a stupid and expensive way to try and win me back.”
“Or it’s the only way I get to spend time with you, and since we’re not married anymore, you don’t get to tell me what to do with my money. So shut up.”
“You’re rude, you know that?”
“You’re pretty.”
It was her turn to tell him to shut up, then it got too busy to keep teasing each other. But she felt his eyes on her as she hustled coffee and plates and bills. It was different now, and a nervous disquiet rippled through her. Somehow a humble Rafe was so much more dangerous than his normal cocky self.
— —
He was too damn tired to keep up the game today, but that hadn’t stopped him from rolling out of bed and heading to the diner anyway. It was like he needed to be there any day he wasn’t working. Why couldn’t she understand that? His attachment to her wasn’t optional. Maybe it would be easier if he actually could disassociate. But love didn’t work like that.
Not for the first time, he considered the possibility that she really had fallen out of love with him. This time the thought had a new stickiness to it and he didn’t like that one bit.
Had he mistaken her residual fondness for something deeper? Conflated his own feelings with what he wanted to see in her eyes?
She filled up his mug on a quick pass-by with the steaming carafe and he avoided her gaze. Swallowing his toast was proving an impossible task. He swilled some of the piping hot black liquid then dug in his pocket for the bottle of Tylenol he’d brought along just in case. Enough embarrassing himself.
He wasn’t giving up, but it was time for a serious retreat, review and regroup.
— NINE —
SHE was running late for her first team meeting. Crappity crap.
