“We could work together?” My weak smile has no effect on his grim demeanor. “Fine, I ju-”
“You ready to order?” His tone indicates he’s done talking but we’re not finished, not by a longshot.
My stomach growls. “Burger, fries, beer.”
“I’ll have the same. Don’t get too close, she’s dangerous.”
“Yes sir.” The poor girl rushes away.
“Seriously?” I pull my cuffed hand under the table. “You aresonot funny.”
“Who says I’m kidding?”
A few minutes later, the waitress returns with two glasses of foaming brew. He slides one in front of me, takes a gulp, and leans back. “Leaving this morning was a shit move.”
“I know, I know. I started to write you a note but couldn’t finish.” I bring my drink to my lips and guzzle it all down.
An angry Cole requires much liquid courage, especially because his brows crease further. “You do realize someone tried to kill you yesterday.”
“What better reason to skip town?” I still don’t understand why he is so pissed.
“You played me.” With one elbow on the table, he leans forward, and juts out his chin.
“Huh? What? No, I didn’t. I am one-hundred percent incapable of that degree of subterfuge. God, you sat in front of me since grade school. I’m not lying.”
He stares at my face for the longest time and pinches the bridge of his nose. Cursing under his breath, he reaches into his breast pocket, and unfolds a scrap of paper.
“What is this? The last word you scribbled out?”
Wow.Should I admit how sex with him rocked my world? How I regretted the last ten years without him? How I pretty much would do anything to stay with him and have his babies?
Those chocolate brown eyes connect with mine, reminding me of s’mores, Halloween, Christmas, and everything I’ve missed by living in my virtual world. How can I explain I don’t do real life? It’s messy, unpredictable, and causes hearts to break in tiny shards that can never be glued together again.
Do I dare take a taste of the serpent’s apple and get cast from my Garden of Eden? Biting my lower lip, I pick up the note. I threw it away because I couldn’t begin to describe last night and still can’t.
His eyes glisten, and as he leans in, I taste his tangy breath and blink tears. Do I risk everything or stay where it’s safe? If I admit my feelings, he’ll laugh. Worse, he might look at me with disgust or even pity. Like before, he’ll go on with his life and I’ll be a shadow of my former self.
“I wrote. Last night was…” Dear God, I can’t. I am such a chicken.
His right upper lip lifts into a smile which encourages me to take a leap of faith.
Air whooshes out of my lungs. “Life altering. Those are the words I scratched out.”
Unable to hold his gaze, I finish off my beer and as I raise my hand for another, he holds the scrap of paper to his nose. “Your handwriting sucks.”
I shrug, waiting for some ax to fall or lightning to strike me dead. After baring my soul, some physical manifestation should be expected. A Mariachi band? A saxophone solo?
“So, can you remove the handcuffs, now?”
His eyes narrow, more captivating than the cold metal around my wrist. “Life altering? How so?”
Now, he wants an explanation? Now?
No, no, no.This is where he is supposed to admit how he too, was affected. Thank goodness, the server sets a beer in front of me and interrupts his questioning.
“I’ll need another, please. And ketchup.” I grab the huge sandwich as best I can with one hand, take a bite, and chew, making speech impossible.
Before I say more, I need to hear his point of view. Men are different, or so I’ve been told. They can have sex without their hearts engaged. Ten years ago, he proved it. When our plates are almost empty and my third glass of beer gone, I’m too inebriated to care.
