Reaching for a sample card, I read it aloud. “Gratifying gray. Who comes up with these ridiculous names?” I mutter, flipping through the stack in his hand. “Cracked Pepper? Coastal Eggshell? What does that even mean?”
Matt doesn’t look up. “They’re shades of beige, man. Beige has layers.”
“Yeah. So does an onion. Doesn’t mean I want to stare at it all day.”
He smirks but stays focused. Brecken reads another card aloud. “Whispering Oatmeal? Who do you think has this job? Paint namer?” He scratches his head through his unruly blond locks. “I wouldn’t mind having that job.” He reaches for a royal blue sample card. “Majestic blue balls!” He chuckles.
Before he can add any additional choice names, a girl from the paint desk wanders over. She’s cute. She has that Britney Spears California girl look about her with big brown eyes, a blonde ponytail, and has a radiant smile at the ready. I flash her my most harmless grin, leaning an elbow on the counter. I need to come up with a way to send morse code to these unexpecting females that see Breck in a uniform before they get sucked into his crazy.
Brecken greets her. “Hey, doll. So, are you the one naming these colors? Because I’d like to submit a few. Maybe Macho Mist or BicepsBeige.” The moron actually flexes his upper arms, first one and then the other, to illustrate his point.
She laughs, cheeks pink. “You naming colors or flirting for free samples?”
“Depends on how generous you’re feeling.” He repeats the motion once more in an attempt to make her blush a bit harder.
“Good lord,” I groan. “What color screams little dick energy?” I ask her.
Matt smacks Brecken upside the head. “You done embarrassing yourself, or should I get you a ladder so you can fall a little harder?”
Brecken rubs the back of his skull. “Just keeping morale high.”
She’s cute. Appears way too sweet for numb nuts here. Truth is, I don’t have any personal interest in flirting. Haven’t for months. Every woman I meet, every laugh, every potential date… it all turns into a pale echo ofher.
Char.
Even saying her name scrapes something raw in my chest. The way she looked the night I met her. The wild, unabashed joy in her eyes versus the cold distance when I saw her again in Florida. Like I’d only imagined the connection between us. Like that pull between us never actually existed.
I’ve tried to rationalize it. Tell myself I barely know her. But it’s no use. I can’t shake it. I can’t rationalize how fixated I’ve become on this beautiful stranger.
Ishouldget over it already. Go on a date. Find someone new to focus on. But it’s like having your heart set on a juicy steak when the only thing on the menu is meatloaf. Hell, if I wanted meatloaf, I’d go to Ellie’s. “Hey,” I say absently, pulling another paint chip from the rack. “Ellie got meatloaf on the menu today?”
Matt glances up, wary. “Why?”
“Just… wondering.”
He raises a brow. “Since when do you care about meatloaf?”
“Never mind. It’s not important.”
He gives me a curious grin but thankfully lets it go. “You’re weird,man. Come on. Let’s grab these and run it by Ellie. They all look the same to me. But she’ll know which one to choose.”
The drive to the restaurant is quiet. I stare out the engine window, mind wandering where it shouldn’t. I tell myself to stop thinking about her already. It’s done. She’s not interested. She made that abundantly clear.Dammit. I inhale sharply.
But then I remember the way her laugh wrapped around me like sunlight, and the soft scent of her hair when I brushed it behind her ear. Hell, those moments almost stick with me more than the naked ones.
Almost.
We pull into the parking lot, and the familiar smell of Ellie’s cooking hits me the second the engine door opens. Comfort and calories, all in one.
“Hey, baby. Dave wants to know if you’ve got meatloaf on the menu!” Matt shouts from the doorway before running over to dramatically sweep his pregnant wife into his arms, plastering kisses over her cheeks.
“Look. I grabbed these, but I need you to pick one out. They all look too much alike to me.” Matt spreads the paint samples on the table while Ellie moves closer, humming to herself. He’s mid-sentence about “Serene Pebble” versus “Morning Dune” when the door swings open again.
As if I’ve conjured her out of thin air with my constant thoughts, there she is.
Char.
Her dark hair’s pulled back, wisps framing her face. Her luminous green eyes catch the light like ocean glass, but they’re not full of the same joy she had when greeting her friend in Florida.Something’s off.
