“Beth.” At his suddenly serious tone, I meet George’s intense stare. “I’m following your lead. If you want more, I’m there with you.” He swallows hard. “And if you want me to forget this, I’ll never say a word about it again.”
My jaw works as I try to find any kind of words. How do I respond to that? Especially when I still taste cinnamon?
George’s serious expression softens in the face of my baffled silence, and he turns me by my shoulders to face the parking lot. “Have a good shift at work.”
I take a step, then another, trying not to look like I’m running away. But the more space I get, the more I need. On shaky legs I reachmy car, wrench open the door, and collapse into the driver’s seat. Somehow, I manage to maneuver out of the lot without backing into anyone.
As I drive the familiar route to the diner, what just happened plays over and over in my head.
We kissed.
Can that even be called something so tame?
Felt more like a mouth fucking to me. Sexy and sensual and desperate.
With George Bunsen.
I thought we were on the hesitant road to friendship, but I guess I’m not the only one with a weird tangle of feelings. Is his an adrenaline crush, too?
For some reason, that idea makes my gut hurt. I shy away from it and lick my lips, seeking out more cinnamon.
By the time I reach the diner parking lot, I haven’t figured out how to feel about the world-altering moment.
But there is one thing I know I want.
With less-than-steady fingers, I pull out my cell and carefully type a text. The most I can offer him in the moment.
Me:I don’t want you to forget it.
Not even a minute passes before I get a response.
George:Good. Because there’s no way I can.
Chapter
25
Of course, theday after I make out with George Bunsen, he shows up at the diner with my brother.
We haven’t talked about anything that happened besides the two texts, and now my body is remembering the way his felt pressed against mine while I have to greet Shawn like nothing life-altering occurred.
“You guys on your way to the airport?” I’m not sure how I manage the question or even how I keep breathing with George standing across the counter from me in his perfectly ironed slacks and crisp white Oxford shirt.
“You got it. Have a dinner meeting on the West Coast. But we have time for a quick lunch.” Shawn attempts a casual scan of the diner and does a bad job of hiding his disappointment when he realizes Darla isn’t here.
“What’ll it be?” I make a big production of holding my pen poised over my pad. “Two orders of The Bunsen?”
Color brushes George’s cheeks, and Shawn pouts. “You stillhaven’t convinced the Cornfields to add the Shawn Special to the menu?”
I lift one shoulder in a half-hearted apology. “If they did, I’m betting Darla would set all the new menus on fire. The financial risk isn’t worth it.”
“Hi, Beth,” George says, and I jerk my attention back to him, only to realize his face is a shade redder. “Just…realized I didn’t say hi. When we came in.”
“Oh. Yeah. Hi.” Then I wave at him and feel my own cheeks burst into flames.
Luckily, as if my best friend sensed I’d need the most distracting distraction to keep my brother from noticing my infatuation withhisbest friend, the door bell chimes and Darla strides into the diner.
A sweaty, halfway-through-her-run Darla.
