I feel the presence of someone as they slide into the seat next to me. The way the man’s presence settles around me while still feeling electric in the most dangerous of ways makes me think I know who has sat down without even looking over.
“Hi, Sheriff,” Honey greets the man who I can’t help but peek at.
He’s so close and I have to tilt my head back in order to see him properly. He’s looking down at me with affection and amusement dancing in his eyes. My thighs clench and I’m suddenly very aware of the outfit I have on today which is somewhere between librarian and schoolmarm.
“Rhodes,” I breathe out his name, more a puff of air than something to latch onto.
But he doesn’t miss it and his mouth stretches into a boyish grin. It’s devastating in a way I’m not used to.
I was used to Thad with his practiced lines and his expected frozen moment photo ops which had more to do with his image and his career than me or our relationship. But I also knew what I was getting with a guy like him. Because he was far too much like my father, but I realized too late to save me from heartbreak and humiliation.
“Hey, Sweetheart,” the way the endearment rolls off his tongue, like it’s more natural than breathing, has me wishing for things beyond my reach.
“Can I get you something to eat?” Honey asks while sitting a soda in front of him. There’s a tease in her voice as she asks, “How about some cake?”
He mentioned he’s become addicted to the cake here and I can’t say I blame him. The notes of citrus I’ve been smelling are absolutely from the Orange Creamsicle Moonshine Cake and it has my mouth watering.
The look Rhodes shoots Honey is sheepish and adorable. “I’m sure I’ll grab a slice,” he glances my way, “or two to take back with me.” He rubs the back of his neck, his grey eyes holding me captive. “How about a burger for now?”
“You got it, Sheriff,” Honey chirps before ripping the paper from her pad, clipping it where it belongs and moving away to help the other customers.
The silence between us isn’t awkward, but it is charged. I can’t seem to look away from him, and he appears to be just as stuck. What is going on?
I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a man, not even Thad and I dated him for a few years. The thought of my ex has a shiver working up my spine, but not in a good way. No, that feeling is disgust and barely hidden revulsion.
While pushing thoughts of my ex away, I offer Rhodes a small smile. The one he gives me back is bright and bold in a way that has my heart racing in my chest.
“I hope you don’t mind eating lunch with me, Helen,” he drawls, the words feeling like a caress against my skin.
“Oh,” I exclaim softly, “I didn’t even realize. If you’d rather go and eat at a booth, I totally get it. I just popped in on my lunch break, and I find eating at the counter helps keep me on track instead of relaxing too much.”
I press my lips together, part of me mortified because I said so much and the hidden implications in my words. About how I don’t have anyone to eat lunch with. About how I’ve gotten used to being alone in this life.
The softness in Rhodes grey eyes tells me he sees all those layers. I blow out a thankful breath because he’s too good of a guy to call me out on the words left unsaid.
“I’m good at the counter if you are, Sweetheart.”
I blink at him a few times. There’s that pet name again. It should not have me wondering what it would sound like on his lips while my head his resting against his chest. His shirtless chest because if I’m going to fantasize, then I’m going to do it right.
Would the endearment sound like a rumble then? Would I feel it more than hear it?
As I clear my throat, I push aside the very real reaction my body is having with him this close to me.
“Are you sure you aren’t following me?” I playfully ask the question with narrowed eyes as I take in the man next to me, not registering the soft sounds in the diner around us because I’m so focused on him.
The man takes up all the space in the room and he’s not even aware of it. It should be annoying, but it’s endearing in a way I don’t fully understand.
Rhodes leans closer to me, his voice dropping an octave as he asks, “And what if I were, Helen?”
I freeze as his words filter through my mind and I try to make sense of them. When laughter bubbles out of me, I go with it and shake my head like he’s being silly.
Even though he smiles, I can see the seriousness in his eyes. Well, okay then.
“I think it would be kind of strange considering you’re you and I’m me,” I tell him honestly, my words flippant and past my lips before I can really give them a second thought.
He stiffens slightly and I replay the words in my head and grimace. Self-deprecation isn’t all that sexy, confidence is. But here we are. It’s not like I can take the words back now.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” his words are slow and measured, like he’s talking to someone he’s afraid of bolting at any moment—which isn’t too far off—while he keeps his face soft and open, “the part about you being you and me being me?”
