“Wow.” She studies me again, but not with disgust or disappointment—more like fascination. “You definitely don’tlook it. I mean, you do with the bits of gray hair, but in a good way. Like… seasoned. Experienced.”
“Seasoned?” I can’t help but laugh. “That’s what we’re calling old now?”
“You’re not old!” She’s blushing again, and it’s adorable. “I just meant… you’ve lived, you know? There’s something about you that feels solid. Grounded.”
“How old are you?” I ask because fair is fair, and because I need to know if this age gap is a dealbreaker for her.
“Twenty-nine. Well, I will be thirty soon, so practically thirty.”
Fourteen years.
Not insurmountable, but not nothing either.
“That bother you?” I ask carefully. “The age difference?”
She considers this, taking another bite of the muffin. “Honestly? No. I’ve dated guys my age. They were…” she waves her hand dismissively, “… boys. You’re a man. There’s a difference.”
Something warm and dangerous blooms in my chest. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean… look at Derek.” Her eyes meet mine, and there’s heat there that makes my pulse kick up. “Plus, you bought me a burger and sang with me when I was at my lowest. That counts for a lot more than a birthday.”
I smile at her like a damn idiot, and I don’t care. Let the whole coffee shop see. Let them know that this incredible woman is sitting here with me, looking at me as if I’m her favorite person, and I’m the luckiest bastard in Las Vegas.
“Listen,” I say, pulling out my phone before I lose my nerve. “I know this might sound forward, but… if you ever need a ride. Like, an actual ride, not just Uber. You can call me directly. I’ll come get you. Doesn’t matter when or where.”
I’m offering her more than transportation, and we both know it. I’m offering her a lifeline. A connection. A promise that I’mnot going to disappear into the night like some random she’ll never see again.
She takes my phone, and I watch her fingers move across the screen, adding her number and then calling herself so she has mine. When she hands it back, she’s saved herself as ‘Marley Wren’ with a little red heart emoji.
My chest does something complicated at the sight of that heart.
“For the record,” she says, saving my contact in her phone. “I’m putting you down as ‘Nitro the Nice Uber Guy.’”
I laugh, loud and genuine. “Fair enough.”
She glances at her phone and winces. “Shit. I really do need to get to work. Derek will be even more of an insufferable jerk if I’m late.”
“Fuck Derek,” I say automatically, and she laughs.
“Yeah.Fuck Derek.I feel like that’s our motto.”
With a slight chuckle, we stand, and there’s this awkward moment where neither of us quite knows how to end this. A handshake seems wrong. A hug seems presumptuous. But then she leans in and kisses my cheek, quick, soft, and over before I can even process it, but my entire world fucking tilts.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For the muffin. Fuck… for everything.”
“Anytime, Small Town.”
The nickname slips out without permission, and I brace myself for her to hate it, but instead, her eyes light up. “Small Town?” The recognition of the lyrics from when we sang in the Uber, hitting her.
“Just a small-town girl… you walked into my life in tears and still managed to sing. You’ve got fight in you. You’ve got soul. And you’ve gotno ideahow unforgettable that makes you. It’s not about size, Marley. It’s about heart. You’ve got that small-town fire, the kind the world doesn’t see coming till it’s already lit them up.”
“I love it,” she says quickly.
There’s something so honest about the way she says it, as if this small thing means more to her than I could possibly understand. And maybe it does. Perhaps this woman has spent so long being told she’s not enough that every gesture of affection feels like a revelation.
“Then Small Town it is.”
She smiles as she walks toward the door, and I’m still standing here like an idiot, watching her leave. She glances back once, giving me a little wave, and then she’s gone, disappearing into the Vegas morning.
