"Morning," I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended.
"Morning," she manages, already blushing.
I hold out her coffee mug, and when our fingers brush, the contact goes through me like electricity. Her pupils dilate, and I see her throat work as she swallows.
Yeah. She feels it too.
"Sleep okay?" I ask, unable to help myself.
"Fine," she lies.
"You?"
My mouth tips up despite everything. "About as well as you, I'd guess."
Her face is bright red, and I take pity on her.
"Coffee's strong this morning," I say, keeping my voice neutral even though there's nothing neutral about what I'm feeling. "Figured we could both use it."
"Thanks," she whispers.
We stand there in her tiny kitchen with about three feet of space between us that might as well be a canyon. The air feels thick, charged with everything we're not saying. Fear prevents us from reaching for everything we both want.
I take a sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of the mug.
This is killing me.
"Steph," I say quietly. "We need to talk."
Her eyes go wide. "About what?"
"About this." I gesture between us. "About what's happening here."
"Nothing's happening—"
"Don't." The word comes out harder than I mean it to, and I soften my voice. "Don't lie to me. And don't lie to yourself."
She opens her mouth. Closes it. I can see her thinking, weighing, trying to figure out how much to admit.
I'm about to push—to tell her I know she feels this too, that I've been waiting for months and I'll wait as long as she needs but I need to know there's something here worth waiting for—when my phone rings.
Martinez.
Of course.
I glance at Steph apologetically and answer. "Dawes."
"Hey, got something you need to know." Martinez's voice is tight. "Elliott's been asking around town about Steph."
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. "What?"
"Yeah. Lottie called it in this morning—said some guy matching Elliott's description was at the diner yesterday asking questions. Where Steph lives, whether she has a boyfriend, how long you two have been together."
Ice floods my veins. "He's violating the restraining order."
"Questions can be a violation, but it’s tough to prove intent. He hasn't approached her or The Lucky Tap." Martinez sounds as frustrated as I feel. "But it's escalating, Dawes. Guy's obsessed."
"I want to know every time he's spotted in town," I say, my voice hard. "Every single time."
