“Good morning, gentleman,” the waiter said, his gaze flicking over Kent before coming to rest on me. He smiled wide, his gaze raking over my body. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Coffee for both of us,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral even though I could feel Kent’s eyes on me.
The waiter, his nametag said Ryan, lingered a beat too long, his smile widening. “Great. I’ll be right back to take your order, handsome.” His fingers brushed against mine as he took the menus back, and I pulled my hand away quickly.
I didn’t miss the way Kent’s jaw tightened, or how his hand clenched into a fist on the table.
“So the pancakes are really good here,” I said, pretending I hadn’t noticed the interaction. “They do this thing with fresh blueberries and?—”
“He was flirting with you.”
I looked up to find Kent staring at me, his expression dark. “What?”
“That waiter. He was flirting with you.” His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the edge underneath.
“He was just being friendly?—”
“James.” Kent leaned forward slightly. “I know what flirting looks like. He was checking you out, and he touched your hand,andhe called you handsome.”
Something warm curled in my stomach at the possessiveness in his tone. “Are you jealous?”
“No.” But the word came out too quickly, and the muscle in his jaw was still twitching.
“You’re totally jealous.”
“I’m not—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe a little. Is that what you want to hear?”
I reached across the table, my hand covering his. “Kent, I’m not interested in him.”
“I know that.” He turned his hand over, threading our fingers together for just a moment before pulling away. “It’s just weird, you know? Watching someone else look at you like that. Knowing I can’t do anything about it.”
“You could,” I said quietly. “If you wanted to.”
His eyes met mine, something vulnerable flickering there. “I’m not ready for that yet. For people to know.”
“I know. And that’s okay.” I meant it, even though part of me wished things were different. “But you don’t need to worry about random waiters. I’m with you.”
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Ryan returned with our coffee, and I made a point of not looking at him directly as I ordered the blueberry pancakes. Kent ordered the same, his voice clipped and professional. When the waiter left, Kent took a long drink of his coffee, still watching the guy’s retreating back with suspicion.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” I said, unable to help myself.
“Shut up.” But he was fighting a smile.
“No, really. It’s hot. Very caveman of you.”
“I said shut up.” He kicked my foot under the table, but he was grinning now.
We fell into easy conversation after that, talking about nothing and everything. Kent told me about a project at work that was giving him trouble, and I told him about the rebrand I was trying to finish that the client kept changing their mind about. Normal stuff. The kind of stuff couples talked about over breakfast.
The thought made my chest tight. Were we a couple? We’d never actually defined what this was between us. We were sleeping together, spending all our time together, and I was pretty sure I was in love with him. But we’d never said the words. Never put a label on it.
“You’re doing it again,” Kent said, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Doing what?”
