The size of his palm felt like it could anchor me here to this spot with very little effort. God help me, part of me almost wanted him to try.
Latching onto what little bravado that remained, I ignored my heart rate upticking at an alarming rate. Also ignored the way his did the same.
“I’m flattered,” I let the sarcasm hang thick on the words. “But unlike you, I prefer to keep first impressions close to the chest.”
Corbin’s fingertips dipped beneath my sweater, tracing over my hip up until he found the waist of my jeans. One finger crooked, latching onto a belt loop where he gave it a playful tug. The action had me sway towards him, forcing my hands to brace against his torso.
The muscles concealed beneath the fabric of his hoodie tensed underneath my touch. Based on the wayhe sucked in a breath, the contact affected him more than he expected.
“Careful, Harlow,” he warned. “Keep putting your hands on me like that, and instead of first impressions, we’ll be talking about lasting ones.”
My tongue slipped between my lips, wetting them in one deliberately slow movement. Looking up at him through my lashes, there was more than lust in his dilated pupils. The golden irises possessed something genuine inside them, something that might be unfiltered honesty in his intentions.
Each downbeat of our hearts seemed to sync, the rhythm inching our mouths closer together until we could almost taste one another.
Conflicting instincts sent mixed signals to my brain. On one hand, I wanted to throw caution to the wind and pounce recklessly. On the other? A voice whispered that even predators could masquerade as prey when it suited them.
The tiny voice won out, for now.
Quick to find a suitable distraction, my hand dropped down to my side, slipping behind me. It batted a cardboard box of mini disco ball keychains off the shelf in one determined swipe. The reflective trinkets scattered and proved to be an effective aid in my getaway.
His grasp on me loosened as his gaze snapped to the dancing lights of the keychains rolling across the linoleum in multiple directions.
In that slip of a moment, I dropped my form into thatof an eight-pound cat. My clothes shimmered and vanished alongside my human form, typically to return from whatever realm they temporarily resided in when I regained my original form.
Slinking into the shadows between the crevices of the shelf, I silently padded away. Hearing Corbin’s muttered curse at my disappearing act, my ears twitched, and I stilled. The sound of his combined frustration and confusion prompted the whiskers on my cheeks to flutter, coming as close to a smile as I could get.
Aisle five—where you find something you didn’t realize you had come in for. Indeed, I had foundsomethingunexpected here.
Chapter
Five
There I sat in the back corner booth of Falston’s shit poor excuse for an all-in-one diner, newspaper stand, and host to the chess club on Tuesdays at two o’clock.
Full of Itwas the name of this place; the original owner apparently thought they had a sense of humor. The only thing this place was full of was dirty dishes and even filthier secrets when the Town Council came in for morning coffee and stale crumbcake.
My spoon dove back into the chili that Chef Joe swore came from a secret recipe that his great-granddaddy had perfected. The square of cornbread sat resting on the flat edge of the bowl as I shoveled more of the savory mixture of beans and meat into my mouth.
That’s when I saw Corbin finally show himself. He took a seat across from me, the cushion’s springs squeaking in a pathetic protest.
He dragged a palm over his face, looking like his feathers had been thoroughly ruffled.
“Took you long enough.” I paused mid-spoonful as I watched his fingers restlessly drum on the tabletop. “What’s gotten up your dickhole?”
His eyes stared at a chip on the edge of my bowl, his relentless rhythm continued against the formica surface. In one snap of a movement, his eyes jerked upward to meet mine, and his fingers stalled.
“She’s not normal.”
I snorted. “Girl’s a freakshow, could have told you that,” I said before dipping the spoon back into the chili.
Corbin’s gaze darkened, and I ignored it.
While I opened up a small plastic tab of peanut butter, my occasional glimpse across the table picked up on the way his jaw worked. It was almost like he was trying to grind his teeth down to dust.
Using a butter knife, I scraped out the creamy spread into the center of the chef’s pride and joy.
“You’re a fucking crime against humanity,” Corbin gritted out as he reached over and snatched the cornbread from the edge of the bowl while I stirred the nutty goodness into the beef and beans concoction.
