"Then go before I drag you over there myself."
Hank stood before he could talk himself out of it. His legs carried him across the café on autopilot, weaving between tables while his brain scrambled to figure out what he was going to say. He'd faced enemy fire with more composure than this.
Bree's friend noticed him first. She glanced up, took in his approach and the way Bree was watching him, and her smile turned knowing.
"I think that's my cue," the woman said, standing smoothly. She touched Bree's shoulder as she passed. "I'll be at the counter. Take your time."
Then she was gone, and Hank was standing beside Bree's table with no backup plan and no idea what to say next.
"Hi," he managed.
"Hi." Bree's smile widened, genuine and warm. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Yeah, I," he gestured vaguely toward his own table, "breakfast."
"Me too." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Apparently, it's the place to be in Copper Moon."
"So I'm learning." He shifted his weight, suddenly aware of how public this was, how many people might be watching. "How are you today?"
"Fine. Only my pride is bruised." She tilted her head, studying him. "How's your conscience?"
"Still guilty."
"Don't be." She gestured to the empty chair across from her. "Do you want to sit?"
He should say no. Should go back to his table, where Brian and Colby were undoubtedly watching this entire interaction and planning new ways to torture him about it. But he found himself pulling out the chair and sitting before he'd consciously made the decision.
"I really am sorry about yesterday," he said. "I wasn't paying attention."
"To be fair, neither was I." She traced the rim of her coffee cup. "My friend Carmen says I have a habit of getting lost in my own head."
"Carmen, that's," he nodded toward the counter where the dark-haired woman was now chatting with the cashier, "your friend?"
"I met her this morning, actually. We shared a table at the hotel because the restaurant was packed." Bree's expression softened. "She's nice. Easy to talk to."
"Unlike me?"
"I didn't say that." But her smile suggested she was teasing. "Though you do have a habit of nearly killing people and then brooding about it."
"I don't brood."
"You absolutely brood. You have the posture for it. Very," she waved her hand, "stoic and intense."
Hank felt his lips twitch despite himself. "Stoic and intense?"
"It's not a criticism. It's," she paused, "actually kind of attractive, if I'm being honest."
The words hung between them, unexpected and charged. Bree's cheeks flushed pink, as if she hadn't meant to say that out loud, but she didn't take it back.
"You ride like a bat out of hell," she added quickly, clearly trying to redirect. "Is that a racing thing, or just your natural state?"
"A little of both." He relaxed slightly, grateful for the change in subject. "Though yesterday I was just distracted."
"By?"
You, he thought. By green eyes and blonde hair and the way you looked standing on that beach like you belonged there.
"The race," he said instead. "Big week coming up."
