A brief pause floats between us. The air turns into a giddy awkwardness, but I’m not sure what I was expecting. I only know pieces of him; he’s a mystery in some way still.
“I’m staying at the Dizzy Duck…”
A smile forms on my lips. “You mentioned when you had me writing a card that apparently I’m going to send to you.”
My eyes narrow in on him, and I cross my arms over my chest. I wait for him to further explain, because I have no idea what he’s up to. I mean, there are many reasons why he mentioned where he is staying, but none of them are good for me.
“I really should apologize.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s fine. I mean, you have your protocol, and you’re the one who is a pro at these kinds of things.”
“Violet, you’re not just anyone.” He sounds near adamant.
Frustration fills me to the brim. “Yeah, I know. I’m Ford Spears’s little sister and have been branded as off-limits to any guy who plays any sport for a career.”
The corner of Declan’s mouth hitches up. “That, and you are… memorable.”
It’s impossible trying to interpret his words without feeling a twinge of hope. But I’m going to run in circles, and I’m positive Jolly Joe’s has maple pecan ice cream today that is calling my name. Untangling from my untied apron, I hang it on the hook behind me.
“So why do you have me sending you flowers with a card?”
“I haven’t decided yet, but it’ll be good.”
My eyes go bold at his suggestion. “Trouble?”
“Maybe.” He’s playing coy.
I huff a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to answer to that,” I say firmly.
“Yet,” he adds.
“If we’re done here, then I think we made our peace and can move on.”
I grab my purse and circle around my counter, only to find that Declan hasn’t moved an inch. In fact, he gets even more comfortable in his lean against my property, with one foot crossed over his ankle.
“We’re all good for your brother’s BBQ? You’re not going to look at me and think of my cock inside of you?” The words flow off his talented tongue so casually.
I feel my cheeks burn. “Really, you’re off the hook. We had a night of fun, it is what it is. I’m sure you’ve enjoyed many parties since then.” I motion with my arm to the door and hold my keys with my other hand.
He propels off my counter, following my cues. “I really appreciate your attitude with all of this, especially since I haven’t been to any parties since.” His tone is flippant.
My eyelids flutter as I look at him with disbelief.
He hooks his finger and glides it along my cheek in passing, touching me as if he is catching a distant memory. He smirks smugly, proud that he caught me off guard.
“You leave an impression and know the score—”
He’s hinting at something, and I scoff a sound between my stretched lips, stopping his sentence. “You’re kind of unbelievable. Gutsy, at that. Goodbye, Declan.” I walk to the door and open it, with the bell making a noise, and wait for him to get a clue.
I’m not sure how I feel about the last few minutes, nor do I particularly want to question why my thighs feel tense in a good way or why on earth the mere touch of his finger against the curve of my face still feels like it may haunt me the rest of the day.
I don’t dare look up at him as he leaves, and I think his swaggered walk out of my shop is from accomplishment.
He wants to occupy my thoughts, have a sense of hold over me, and simply feel like it’s his doing that I toss and turn later.
But the joke is on him.
Because he didn’t need to put in the effort.
