“Desiree. My ex.”
Cue the fake smile. False happy head nod. “She probably realized what a mistake she made. I certainly would if I was your ex.”
Pushing back from the table, I stand and gather my trash. “Ready?” I ask, locating a trash can and depositing the empty coffee and muffin wrapper.
I don’t want to talk any more about Desiree. Jane might be right, some plans are limiting, but not this one. If Connor’s ex wants him back, I should bow out. Maybe this is a sign I need to hop back onto my path.
Connor tosses his containers in the trash and strides over to where I stand beside the door. His mouth is set in an unhappy line. The drive home will be a lot less fun than the drive here.
“Brynn?” Jane calls from behind the counter, making Connor and I both look over. “You said you’re from Phoenix. I know this is a long shot, but you wouldn’t happen to know someone named Aubrey Reynolds, would you?”
“No.” I shake my head.
I did know an Aubrey Cordova. She wrote the insurance policy for my parents’ fishing business. I handled it for them because they were out of the country. She was professional and jaw-droppingly gorgeous. At the time I thought she would’ve made a great club promoter if she weren’t so buttoned-up, although I wouldn’t recommend that job to anybody now.
“Sorry,” I add when I see my answer has disappointed Jane. That name must have something to do with her advice to me.
“It’s okay. Good luck,” she waves.
“You’re very different from the person I thought you were when we first met,” Connor says quietly on our walk back to his truck. He opens the door for me and I climb in, sitting sideways and letting my feet dangle.
“Maybe you should be open to Desiree, Connor.”
His jaw flexes, tense again. “And why is that?”
“My basket is flimsy. Don’t put your heart into it.”
“I thought that saying was about eggs.”
“Whatever the content of the basket, it has the same ending. Splat.” My hands slice sideways through the air.
He reaches up, gripping the top of the doorframe, and leans in so we’re less than a foot apart. I can’t help but stare at him as his shirt rides up, his arms and muscles flexing with the grip of his fingers. “Sometimes, with you, it’s like I’m in combat.”
Despite the seriousness of our conversation, I grin. “Be careful, I fight with a baseball bat.”
“Until I have you on your back, and then you mewl like a cat.” Connor winks. “I’m done rhyming. Kiss me and don’t tell me to be open to anyone else again.”
“Connor…”
“Do as I say for once, Brynn.”
Fuck it.For now, anyway.
I reach up. His cheeks are rough with tiny, stiff hairs, and I love the tingle it puts on my palms. I know I shouldn’t let Connor have his way, but I can’t help it. His lips are soft against mine, and he gives just as much as he takes. I thought the blueberry muffins were the best taste in the world, but I was wrong.
The sweetness of their aftertaste on Connor’s tongue is even better.
18
Connor
The old man’swords sit in the back of my mind every damn day. Ignoring them is nearly impossible. They lurk like a creepy shadow, hovering over every thought.
Might be best to let her go then.
I can’t think of Brynn or the future without the approaching darkness of his words.
Walt wants to protect Brynn, I get that, but I want to protect her too. I don’t want her to make a choice that will haunt us. Somehow, someway, I’m going to find a way out of this for her.
