And don’t get me started on his eyes!
They’re locked on mine, and there’s so much tension rising from my body my pulse races.
He has to know exactly what he’s doing to me.
The curl of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. It’s not a cocky grin you’d expect from someone with his credentials. There’s softness underneath it. Yet, the gleam in his eyes betrays him. He wants to kiss me more.
And maybe I do too?
He shifts, sloping a fraction closer, and my breath hitches. His scent, clean and fresh and something totallyhim,wraps around me like a shield I didn’t ask for. I press my back into my seat, trying to create distance between us when there’s nowhere to go.
Because he’s not touching me, but I can’t ignore him while he's this close. “Do you always look at people with that smirk?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even as my breath shortens.
“Not people. Only you.” He arches a brow, languid and self-assured.
Oh.
I don't even know what to say. If he wasn’t standing in my way, I should slam my door shut and just leave before this gets out of hand.
I don't.
Instead, my mouth parts.
Nothing comes out.
Just a breath.
He leans in slightly, voice low and smooth, his voice rough at the edges. “Tell me to leave.”
“Leave.” It comes out quickly, and we both chuckle.
As if to test me, he shifts his weight away from me, as if he’s ready to leave. I don’t say anything. I need him to leave. “It’s just that we’re in public. Someone could see us, and Noah. This is going to be weird for him.”
His lips purse out, as he backs away a small step. “Got it. I’ll walk away, but I’m going to call you later.”
I open my mouth to tell him no, but my body betrays me. I don’t get a word out. So, he shuts my door and stands back as he flashes his palm up to wave goodbye.
I crank the engine with urgency, yelling at myself for ever going on a non-date with Bill Baker.
Who knew a non-date would turn out to be the best date?
fifteen
Bill
The warmth of the diner hits me first, calling me inside. It’s hard to believe I’ve lived in this town for most of my life and never experienced this place before meeting Ruth. Now I’m fastbecoming addicted to the sweet scent of maple syrup and their delicious pancakes, and well, to be honest, Ruth.
She’s wearing a messy ponytail and a white apron over a pink dress. Pink is just her color, and it does something to me. She doesn’t notice when I seat myself in my usual counter stool. I wait patiently, trying to ignore the pounding in my head. It’s one of those migraines that has burrowed deep with slow throbs behind my left eye. The pain is nothing new, as I’ve suffered from migraines since my career-ending head concussion, but it never gets easier. Crazy, yet, after all of these years, I still never have a clue of when they will hit. I went to bed on cloud nine, high from our date, and woke up feeling like a truck hit me. I tug off my Granite Ice beanie and lean onto the counter for support as I breathe into the migraine.
Out of my peripheral, I see Ruth turn toward me, a flicker of surprise landing on her lips before she arches a playful brow at me. “You again?”
“Don’t sound so disappointed.” It’s easy to smile, even though my face feels like cement with more pressure building by the minute.
“Are you here for food or to try to relentlessly flirt with me?” The angle of her smile tells me she’s open to some banter, and my heart flutters hard.
Wagging my eyebrows, I say, “How about a big helping of both?”
She tries to mock being unimpressed but her lips twitch. She goes on, pretending to be professional, “So, Mr. Baker, pancakes, coffee, and bacon?”
