"Seems like it." My hands smoothed my top down instead. His eyes followed my movements with keen interest. The hallway suddenly felt too small.
"You thought I was married."
I nodded solemnly. "I saw that photo in your wallet and jumped to conclusions. I'm sorry."
He grimaced. "No, it's not your fault. I would've thought the same thing if the roles were reversed. I'm guessing your friends filled you in?"
"Just that you're a widower." I watched him carefully.
"Yeah."
A cloud came over his face before it cleared. It was quick, and I might have missed it if I hadn't been so tuned in to his reactions.
But I didn't miss it.
And that fleeting display of emotion told me everything I needed to know.
He was still mourning his wife. Which I couldn't be mad about. Unfortunately, that meant it was the end of the start for us. He had too much baggage for me to delicately handle in my current state.
"Look, you're a nice guy –"
"Would you like to go out sometime?"
We stopped and stared at each other, absorbing what the other person said.
"Uh oh, am I being friend-zoned already?" He moved closer and grasped my hand. Delighted tingles shot up my arm. "At least let me buy you dinner first before you decide," he pressed.
I hesitated as I gazed into his handsome, eager face. I was taken by how attractive I found him, and his insistence that he take me out was winning major brownie points. Our lunch a few weeks ago swirled through my head, and the feelings I had during that hour we spent together came rushing back.
Dinner.
I could count on one hand how many men had taken me out to dinner. It was usually a drink at a bar followed by sex. Still, I hesitated. A million and one reservations floated through my mind.
I felt his hand pull at my arm gently. "Please?" he prodded.
I felt my resolve weaken as I got lost in his warm brown eyes. Despite my gut feeling, my heart knew there was only one answer I could give.
Chapter 8
Brian
When Maria had left the café without a word, my initial thought was:fuck it!She was just a random woman I spent an hour with on a whim. Sure, she had some magnetic pull that dragged me to her table when I first spied her. And, yes, whatever damn spell she wove had me behaving out of the ordinary and acting like a damn fool, begging her for scraps of attention.
Did my stomach churn excitedly at the prospect of grabbing her number and seeing her again? Okay, yes. But so what? She was just a woman.
A beautiful, sexy woman.
The sexiest I'd encountered in a long time.
So when I found myself searching the faces of dark-haired women I passed on the street and started frequenting the café where we had met, I knew I’d been kidding myself. I wanted to see Maria again.
Annoyingly, it wasn't happening organically. You would think I would bump into her at least once in a town this size. But no such luck.
After two frustrating weeks of coming into town for absolutely no reason, I finally thought,"fuck it,"and walked straight into her salon without thinking it through. The little bell on the door jingled, announcing my entrance, and the young blonde receptionist at the front desk glanced up at me with a welcoming smile.
My gaze ate up the place, hungry to lay eyes on the woman who constantly invaded my thoughts. I was immediately taken by how bright and clean Maria's salon was. The decor was minimalistic and stylish, with splashes of white, black, and gold. The chairs were all full with clients having various treatments done to their hair, and a few were seated in the waiting area.
A swell of pride rose inside me. The fact that Maria was relatively young and achieved what looked like a popular and successful business was no small feat. It showed she wasn't afraid of hard work and having career goals. Another huge tick in the attraction column for me.
