The world stops.
Tucker Stag stands in the doorway, sunglasses pushed up into his tousled blond hair, wearing a Pittsburgh Fury t-shirt that stretches across his broad, muscled shoulders. He looks tired, irritated, and unfairly gorgeous.
Our eyes meet, and his entire demeanor changes. The scowl vanishes, replaced by genuine surprise that quickly transforms into a smile that could power the whole city.
Oh no.
"Isn't that..." Mel starts, following my gaze.
"Shh," I hiss, ducking my head as if that could somehow make me invisible.
Too late. He's already weaving through the tables toward us, his face lit with a kind of boyish excitement that makes my stomach flip.
"Sloane," he says, stopping at our table. "Hey."
I manage a smile that I hope doesn't betray the riot happening in my chest. "Hi, Tucker."
He turns to Mel, extending his hand. "We met at Stelly’s party.”
"I remember," Mel says, shaking his hand with an amused expression I know all too well. "I'm Mel."
"Right, Mel. Tucker.” He nods, then turns back to me, his eyes so intensely blue I have to look away. “Whatcha doing here, Sloane?”
"Just studying," I say, gesturing lamely at the open textbook. "First day of class."
"You're in school?" He sounds genuinely interested, which is... unexpected.
"Just started. Public health." I'm painfully aware of how awkward I sound, like I've forgotten how to form complete sentences.
"That's awesome," he says, and he seems to mean it. He shifts his weight, looking like he wants to say more but is holding back. "Actually, I've been trying to find a way to contact you. You left something at the house.”
My hand flies instinctively to my throat. "My necklace? You found it?"
His smile broadens. "Yeah. It was wedged between the bed and the wall. I've got it at my place."
"Oh my God, thank you." The relief in my voice must be palpable. "It was a gift."
"I figured it was important." He glances at the counter where a barista is calling out an order number, then back to me. "I should let you get back to studying, but..."
He pulls his phone from his pocket and slides it across the table to me. "Will you type your number? So we can figure out how to get your necklace back to you."
"Thanks," I say, taking the device. Our fingers brush, and I try to ignore the small jolt that runs through me as I quickly add my number to his contacts.
He grins and texts me a smiley face, smiling even bigger when my phone vibrates with the incoming message. "I'm grabbing a green smoothie," he gestures toward the counter. “Gotta ramp up my nutrition…anyway, I'll let you get back to it," he says, backing away, clearly reluctant to leave. My heart pounds, probably because he found my treasured gift. "But text me, okay? About the necklace."
"I will," I promise, and he flashes that smile again before turning toward the counter.
The moment he's out of earshot, Mel leans forward. "Holy shit," she whispers. “He is, like, fully in love with you.”
I feel my face heat up. "Keep your voice down!"
"He's gorgeous," she continues, unabashed. People actually approach him in line, and he snaps selfies. Because he’s a famous hockey player who works with my ex-husband. "And he was looking at you like you hung the moon."
"It was one night," I mutter, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my chest. "It doesn't mean anything."
"That man did not look like someone who thinks it meant nothing," Mel says, gesturing with her pen toward Tucker, who's now waiting for his order, sneaking glances in our direction. "And he found your necklace. That's basically the plot of a rom-com."
“I would have had the necklace days ago if you actually texted your friend, the host, about it.” I roll my eyes, but my heart isn't in it.
