His mouth quirks up as what appears to resemble relief washes over his face. “Was in the neighborhood. Figured I’d grab lunch.” He glances toward Ellie and Matt. “Didn’t realize I’d be crashing the executive menu committee.”
Ellie beams, unaware of the tension knotting up my insides. “Sit! What can I get you? How about some chicken pot pie?”
His boyishly handsome face lights up like a kid in a candy store. “Sold!”
Fantastic. Exactly what I was hoping for. Prolonged eye contact with the man who makes my self-control do the electric slide.
He takes the stool beside me. He’s too close. The kind of close where I can smell that clean, warm scent of his cologne, and my treacherous brain immediately supplies a memory I’ve been trying to bury. I have to rub my thighs together as visions of him wearing only that scent return. My eyes close recalling the feel of his arms around me. The way I’d melted against him like cold butter nestled into one of Ellie’s fresh-baked biscuits.
“So,” he says, his elbow brushing mine like it’s an accident. “You decided if you’re going to stick around for a while?”
I stab a fried pickle. “I don’t know. I’m taking things one spicy chicken sandwich at a time,” I tease playfully.
He huffs out a laugh, and I swear I can feel the sound vibrate all the way down to my toes.
Ellie’s humming to herself, blissfully oblivious, flipping pages in her notebook. I envy her for that. For the simplicity of her world right now. Husband, babies, her business... no stalkers in the shadows. No fear of what’s lurking in the dark.
Dave leans in slightly. “You okay?”
Startled, my eyes hold his. The question hits harder than it should. I could deflect. Say something flippant like,Define okay.But the genuine concern in his eyes… well, it’s disarming.
So, instead I go with, “Yeah,” my voice cracking under the weight of his stare.
He studies me, like he knows there’s a whole story beneath that single word. And for a heartbeat, I think maybe he’ll push. Demand to know what I’m not saying. Why I’ve been such a royal bitch to him after having the most incredible night of my life at that wedding months ago. But instead, he nods and looks away.
Dave reaches for his plate, but not before his hand grazes mine. It’s barely a touch, yet my pulse spikes like I’ve sprinted a mile.
Gah. This man.
Dave
Of course,the moment I walk through the door, I see her. And for a second, it’s like somebody’s sucker punched me right in the lungs. But had I been secretly hoping I’d find her here? Yes, of course. What’s the point in pretending?
She’s all I fucking think about.
Char’s sitting at the bar, the late afternoon sunlight catching in her hair, her laugh soft and unguarded. She’s leaning over Ellie’s notebook, probably giving her grief about portion sizes or a lack of enough honey on each table for dipping.
God, she’s beautiful.
Every single time I see her, and one glimpse knocks the wind from my sails.I think about turning around. Order to-go so I can avoid the slow torture of being near her. Smelling her sweet scent. Wanting her but pretending I don’t. But the pull is unrelenting. I can’tnotgo to her.
My boots feel heavier with each step. I clear my throat. “Char.”
She turns, her face expressionless, minus the fake grin she’s plastered on. “Dave.” She straightens. “What brings you to the land of finger-licking spicy southern chicken and napkin shortages?”
The corner of my mouth twitches. The relief I feel at her witty banter is instant and intense. “Was in the neighborhood. Figured I’d grab lunch.” I shrug, trying to play this interaction off as if it’s no big deal. But it’s the first hint of the girl I met that I’ve seen in months.
I sit too close. I can practically feel her body heat radiating against my thigh. She doesn’t shrink away, though. And that tiny act of acceptance? It’s pathetic how much hope it lights within me.
Her voice is lighter than I remember. But I can still hear the edge of something underneath. Is she still trying to keep some distance?Or is it fear?
“So,” I ask before I can stop myself, “you decided if you’re going to stick around for a while?”
She stabs a fried pickle, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “I don’t know. Taking it one spicy chicken sandwich at a time.” She crunches down on her food theatrically.
I chuckle.
God, I’ve missed her mouth.Both the sassy words spilling from it, and the perfect way it felt under mine. My eyes fall to her plump red lips. Her taste of bourbon and cherries still lingers on my tongue.
