One of his brow’s spikes, and a chuckle leaks out of his mouth. “I thought you wanted to get away from the morbid?”
“It’s not morbid. It’s a serious question.” I cup my hands around my mug, soaking in the warm glow that seeps to my hands, and plunge into all my options. “So, all-you-can-eat pizza would be top on my list, because why limit volume if you’re on your way out. If calories aren’t a concern, how about just like a whole chocolate cake? Or maybe it’s better to try something new? Something exotic that I’ve never tried. It’s a lot to thinkabout.” I gesture forward. “Your turn—and beware there are wrong answers.”
“Wrong answers?” He starts to say something and then stops, tipping his chin up, all while the mischievous smile pulls on the corners of his lips. “There cannot be wrong answers if it’s death row.”
“Oh, yeah, there are,” I barrel on. “Anything people eat for the sake of health. Like salad. That’s a wrong answer.”
His bottom lip pushes out a tad farther than the top one, making it look extra plump while he thinks. I wait; my brain is ready to calculate if we are compatible. He raises his coffee mug, pressing the edge to his lips, and says, "mac and cheese,” before taking a sip.
“What?” I exclaim, feigning outrage. “Of all the things you could have. You could have a giant steak, and you pick macaroni and cheese?”
He bops his head and takes another sip of his coffee before setting it down. “Yeah, it’s the ultimate comfort food. Of course, I wouldn’t just accept the one from the box. I want my mother’s homemade recipe—the one with real cheese.”
He’s got me there. Food mixed with family traditions and comfort. “Alright,” I groan. “You pass.”
“My turn to ask a question.” He raises his mug, gesturing with it. His eyes narrow. Then, with the poutiest of lips, he declares, “First kiss.”
“Kiss?” Sputtering, I narrowly miss choking on my coffee. “We’re talking about kissing?” Those full lips of his hit me like a truck. That’s it. I’m done. He could ask for my social security number and my birth certificate, and I’d gladly hand them over. “Ah, would you believe me if I said it was you?” I squawk out, hoping my joke will mask how cowardly I feel.
Instead of laughing, he arches an eyebrow in a suggestive slant. “Did that kiss make you uncomfortable?”
“Uncomfortable?” I echo while a bomb explodes in my chest.
That’s the last word I would use to describe what happened.
That kiss made me feel a lot of things but not discomfort. Wanted. Beautiful. Cared for. All amazing feelings I haven’t experienced in years, but there’s no way I can admit that.
While I ponder what to say, he drags his teeth slowly over the perfect bottom lip while his gaze roves over my face, moving from my lips to my eyes. I clench my hands into fists, resisting the urge to point at him and scream how that’s not fair.
This whole thing is a setup!
He can’t come waltzing over here all hours of the night and return my daughter’s most prized possession—that he raised from the dead—and act as if it’s not a big deal to sit here and talk kissing with me casually while looking like that! I hold in all my words but manage a sharp shake of my head. Eventually, “I didn’t say uncomfortable,” tumbles out of my mouth.
“Well, at least you’re not salty about it.” A flirty laugh drips from those perfect lips. “I couldn’t help but think I ruined my chance with you because I pushed too fast.” His tone is pure seriousness, as he goes on, “But you have to know I was nervous about not getting another chance to see you.”
The deep ache that hits my gut way down in the pit, causes me to place my hand on my stomach. I’m not cut out for this flirting stuff.
The last of my defensive line makes its stand: I’m too fragile. It’s too risky. I will run over hot glass Legos, before I trust another man. It’s one thing if it was just me, but Bella has already suffered enough from my terrible choices.
Frankly, I already explained this to him the other day. A single bubble of anger blooms in my gut. Before I can overthink it, I blurt out, “Who do you think you are?
“You won’t even find out if you won’t let me in.”
Every fold of my brain absorbs his words, and it sends a shockwave directly to my heart. “How can you be so sure about this when we only just met?”
“It’s just a vibe. Sure, we haven’t known each other long, but this feels different. I like everything about you so far.” He shrugs, casually, shifting the angle of his broad shoulders closer to me, while his gaze softens. “Earlier at the store, Rigsby showed me this perfume you had wanted. He told me I should get it for you, but it was honestly the most absurd thing to me. I wouldn’t ever want to change the way you smell.”
“Say what?” My bottom lip quivers. How am I having another conversation about my smell? Locking my jaws together, I refuse to show my anxiety. I get it. I’m not perfect, but it’s not for lack of trying. I’m maxed out. My breathing is unsteady when I ask, “You noticed my smell?”
His nod is instant, unapologetic, and it sends a dagger to my heart until he tacks on, “Yeah, I told you that you smelled great.”
I slant my head, unsure I heard that correctly. A warm glow seeps into my chest, as if it’s healing an open wound. I draw in a breath, press my lips together, and look at him. I really look at him, raking my gaze over his deep-set eyes, all the way down to that superior jaw line. It’s a face I have memorized, but it feels different to look at him now. Like I’ve unlocked another layer—a soft one.One that I’m compelled to explore.
I blink and then blink again. He has one little wispy strand of hair that dangles in front of his eyes. It’s likely caused by a cowlick, but the way it shadows his gaze makes him extra dreamy. I don't know how long I can keep making excuses, especially if he’s going to keep coming back stronger.
“It’s just the little things like that.” He stretches an arm over his head and slouches back in his chair, an impish smile on his face.
Does he know what he’s doing when he hits me with that smile? It’s like the brightest light that I’ve been missing for so long, after wandering through darkness for years.
