His eyes drop down briefly, his body instantly uncomfortable. Then he looks up. “I wasn’t particularly curious.”
I laugh as I lead us toward a side street that is quieter, with less foot traffic. “That’s only something a young person would say.”
There’s an entrance to a small café tucked into an ivy-covered brick wall. We enter when he finally says, “I’m twenty-eight.”
I almost snap my neck looking up at him. He grins. “Too old for you?”
This guy. “I have no age limits on friends.”Keep it breezy, Cass.
The smile stays on his face, his eyes never leaving mine. “Oh, good. Good to know. I’ll bring my three-year-old nephew around for the next wine night.” I laugh, feeling a familiar lightness float through me.Crushlightness. Oh boy. But I have to admit, it’s the lightest I’ve felt all week—a particularly heavy week.
We’re seated at a bistro table out in the brick-paved alley, tucked behind potted olive trees and shaded by a yellow-and-white striped umbrella. I order an iced latte, and he gets a black coffee and about eight different pastries. When they arrive, they’re spread out in front of us like a buffet.
“Are you secretly a coffee-shop-pastry critic?” I ask, taking a sip of my creamy ice-cold drink.
He breaks off a piece of cheese-filled Danish and holds it to mequestioningly. I take it even though I’ve already had breakfast and I’m pretty disciplined about snacks and sugar and all that as I get older. But there’s something about him. I can’t say no, and that lightness guides me.
“I just like sampling things,” he says. This sends a zing straight into my belly.
“Are you actually able to eat all this?”
He nods. “Probably. But I won’t, I’ll save some for later.”
“Well, you’re a growing boy, after all. Need those calories.”
He shakes his head and laughs while taking off his deep-blue chore coat. He’s wearing a light blue T-shirt underneath, worn thin and fitting him like a freaking dream. There’s that glimpse of his silver necklace again. I resist reaching out and touching it. His long, tanned forearms brace the table as he leans forward. “So, how do you like biking with that group?” Ellis asks.
“I love it.” I can feel myself light up as I say it. “I only started doing it a few years ago. I’ve never been very athletic or particularly outdoorsy, so I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. It was just…” My gaze shifts to a spot behind Ellis, my mind wandering. “It was like finding this other part of myself that was lying dormant for four decades, you know?”
Shit. Cat’s out of the bag.
Ellis doesn’t bat an eye. “That’s incredible. I haven’t had that in my life yet.”
I wink. “Just give it another fifteen years, sonny.”
He sits back. “Okay, enough. So, you’re what—forty?”
“How dare you. I’m thirty-nine.”
“Thirty-nine. What’s the big deal?”
“When you turn thirty-nine, come back and tell me.”
“I will.” His voice is even, and his gaze is serious. It’s pretty hot and I bet people fall over themselves when confronted with this face.
“Ellis, what’s going on?” I ask, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “This feels like more than a casual check-in on an injured biker you saved.”
His high cheekbones turn slightly flushed and he takes a sip of his coffee. Then he levels his gaze back on me. “Yeah, well, um, I’d like to hang out.”
“We are hanging out.” Is this how the youth describe fucking?Hanging out?
“This doesn’t…I mean, it’s nice. But, like, I’d like to take you out. On a date.”
I take a sip of my drink to give myself a beat. “I’m really…you seem great. But—”
“But I’m too young?”
“Yes!” I exclaim, laughing a little. “Eleven! Years!”
