She didn’t notice me at first. She was deep in her work, brow slightly furrowed, tongue poking out just a little in concentration. Adorable.
I cleared my throat gently.
Her pencil paused. She lifted her head.
And when she saw me, that smile.
That soft, startled, radiant smile that lit up her whole face.
I swear something in me just . . . melted.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked, trying and failing not to sound hopeful.
Her cheeks flushed just a little. She shook her head. “No. Not at all.”
“Good.”
I pulled out the chair, sitting across from her like it was exactly where I belonged.
Because, honestly? It felt like it was.
“Hi,” she said, voice warm.
“Hi,” I echoed, unable to stop the grin pulling at my mouth. “I, uh . . . hope it’s okay that I joined you.”
“It’s more than okay,” she said softly. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Her words went straight to my chest.
And sitting there across from her, watching her fingers curl around her pencil, and her eyes shine in the morning sunlight, I knew one thing for sure. I was already falling.
Up close, she was even more beautiful than I remembered.
Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, sunlight catching the pale gold strands like they were lit from within. Her cheeks were pink and her brow slightly furrowed in concentration. And her body . . .
God.
I tried not to stare. Ireallydid. But my eyes kept slipping to the curve of her waist, the soft roundness of her hips and thighs in those jeans, the way her tank top hugged her chest just enough that I had to force myself not to look directly at her cleavage.
She was . . . stunning. In the kind of way that knocked the breath out of you if you weren’t prepared for it.
And I absolutely wasn’t prepared.
I cleared my throat, dragging my gaze upward before I got caught.
“So,” I said, nodding toward the sketchbook, “what are you working on?”
She glanced down, almost bashful, like she’d forgotten it was there. “Oh. Um—just . . . something for fun.”
“For fun?” I leaned forward, intrigued. “Eleanor, this is?—”
I reached out, stopping myself before I actually touched the page. “—this is incredible.”
Her blush deepened. “Thank you. I haven’t really worked on anything new in a long time.”
I let myself actually take in the page. A little girl on roller skates. Wild hair. Scuffed knees. Determination radiating off the page.
“She’s fierce,” I said.
