I stop dead.
My heel snags on a stone, again, and Sin steadies me, but all I can see when I glance over my shoulder is Sam Beaulieu.
He jogs toward us, and under the glow of the moon, every stride is smooth and confident. The sight of him burns away every irritation, every thought, every single molecule of composure I had left.
Why had I run out of the restaurant? I was willing to turn my back on this guy? What am I, insane?
“Eek.” Erin bumps into my back, giddy like a toddler hopped up on candy. How did she get back here so fast?
We three wobble like dominos before catching ourselves, teetering beneath a vintage streetlight as he approaches. I shouldn’t speak for my friends, but I’m pretty sure our little trio is mesmerized by the tall, lean man with a slow, sexy curve to his magnificent mouth.
Erin’s gaze widens, her disbelief evident and only confirmed in her cutting tone. “I seriously don’t believe this.”
I roll my eyes. It’s not like Isummonedhim.
“Ladies.” Mock wounded, he presses a hand over his chest. “You left without saying goodbye.” His tone is playful, voice rough velvet.
“We’re so sorry,” Erin all but purrs, sliding forward to rest her hand on his arm.
His eyes flick to her, briefly, before pinning me with his impossible green stare. The shimmer in them is alive with an unspeakable heat or hunger.
“Olivia.” My name rolls off his tongue, soft and rough all at once. “Can we talk for a moment?”
My friends dissolve into fits of giggles, like teenagers at a boy-band concert. I hang my head, embarrassed, and a littlebit jealous of their freedom to act this ridiculous. I really can’t blame them. What I would do to let loose and squeal right now. I can hardly believe he came after me,— left his restaurant, in the middle of a full house, for me.
I stare at my friends, and it takes a few seconds for them to acknowledge me. “Give us a minute?”
They grumble but retreat a few steps away. At the same time, Sam closes the distance between us. The awareness of him—his height, his energy, the scent of something earthy and clean—hits me all at once.
I step out of the streetlight’s circle, still trying to get my bearings, and Sam moves into it, the glow hitting his features like a spotlight on the main act.
If I didn’t know he was a chef, I’d swear he was a model.
“I don’t do this.” He’s suddenly serious in a quiet, sincere way.
“Do what?” My heart somersaults.
“Chase women.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” I quirk an eyebrow and he nods, smile still in place. “Well, actually,come to think of it, of course you don’t. They usually fall at your feet.”
Flashes of tonight’s revolving door of women in his kitchen come to mind. I bet tonight was an average turnout for him.
“Fall at my feet?” His chuckle is low and sexy, his mouth curving on one side. “Can’t say I remember that. Pretty sure I wouldn’t have forgotten a woman at my feet.”
“I guess we see things differently.” I place my hand on my hip. “What do you want, Sam?”
“You to go out with me.”
Didn’t he get the hint? I shot him down in the restaurant. Though something deep inside of me wavers.
He’s beautiful. Young. Confident. He could have anyone. So why me? I’m not chopped liver, but I’m not twenty-five.Although they say forty is the new thirty, whoever the hell “they” are. I’ve got two children, stretch marks, and gravity isn’t kind.
I take a deep breath.I am enough. I am beautiful.
“I live in Toronto.” It’s a lame rebuttal and causes my insides to quiver.
“You’ve already said that.” Smiling, his voice is a low rumble, stirring sensations deep in my core. “But you’re still here tomorrow. Have dinner with me.”
