“Because—” He stops. The smile softens. “Because I needed a do-over.”
Oh.
Ohhh.
And now my heart is doing extremely unauthorized things.
The contract said we weren’t supposed to talk about Barcelona outside of our official story. Section something-or-other. Prior romantic history remains confidential…We were supposed to pretend that some things from that night never happened.
“So this was”—I can barely get the words out—“intentional?”
“Completely intentional.” He’s still smiling that smile. Oh, he’s good. “Is that okay?”
Is it okay?
Is it okay that he remembered Barcelona enough to pick a restaurant with the same name?
Is it okay that he’s totally breaking the rules?
Is it okay that I really don’t care?
Absolutely not okay. Danger. Danger!
“Yeah, it’s okay.” Oh, I’m in trouble.
“Good.” He gets out of the car. Comes around to open my door. “Because I’m really hoping this night ends better than the last one.”
He offers his hand.
I take it, and we walk toward the restaurant entrance together. The winter air bites at my cheeks. Somewhere behind us, the Shelby’s engine ticks as it cools. Ahead of us, the restaurant glows with warm light and the promise of Spanish wine and tapas and conversation.
And second chances.
And rules that need breaking.
And I think: Maybe this isn’t such a terrible idea.
Maybe.
Nine
Brody
This might have been a bad idea.
Scratch that. It was definitely a bad idea.
Because sitting across from Chloe in the soft glow of Edison bulbs with a Spanish guitar playing somewhere in the background, the scent of olive oil and garlic wafting from the kitchen, it feels a little too much like Barcelona.
Only this time, I’m not running. Not on your life.
“The patatas bravas look good,” Chloe says, glancing up from the menu. “And the croquetas. Oh, and calamari. Is it weird to order all the appetizers?”
“Tapas, and not weird at all.” I close my menu. “Let’s do it.”
She smiles. That genuine smile that makes her whole face light up. “That was easy.”
This girl has no idea how devastating she is with that green dress that brings out flecks of gold in her brown eyes. Her hair falls in waves over her shoulders, catching the light every time she moves. She could ask for everything on the menu and I wouldn’t argue.
