Elijah nods, watching my every move with curious eyes.“Sure. I’ll call you when I’m off, okay?”
Leaning over his desk, I place a gentle, closed-mouth kiss on his lips. Elijah squeals quietly, face flushing even further as I pull away.
“Sounds good. Bye, Eli.”
“Uh, yeah. Bye.”
He watches my back as I retreat—I can feel him the entire time. I resist the urge to turn back and see what expression he’s making, in fear that I’ll see one of suspicionor extended curiosity I cannot answer to.
And as I jump into my truck and begin the twenty-minute drive home, I try to calm my racing heart.
Everything will be fine. Things will work out—they have to. It’s destiny.
The red string of fate that ties the two of us together is being pulled taut, and I believe with everything in me that I can keep it from snapping completely.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elijah
Elijah 4:12 p.m.
Meet me at TP at 5:15?
Rowan 4:15 p.m.
Sounds like a plan.
Ipush through the glass door of the diner, shaking the residual raindrops from my hair. The drizzle is light enough now that I’m not soaked, but I probably resemble a damp puppy. I should invest in an umbrella.
It’s 5:30 p.m., and I’m officially late for our second date. The oneIplanned. Go figure.
I spot Rowan in the back, sitting alone in a booth as he stares at his phone. I can’t tell from here if he’s waiting for my text or if he’s talking to someone else, but it doesn’t matter anyway.
After last night, I’m no longer concerned about outside influences on whatever it is that we’re doing.
I approach the booth, and Rowan looks up from his screen. He grins when he sees me, setting the device to the side to give me his full attention.
“Hey there, angel,” he greets, and my entire body warms at his words. Every time he says it, I want to be good. I want to prove him right.
I am an angel. I am soft and sweet.
“Hi.” I smile, dropping down on the seat across from him. “Have you ordered?”
“Of course not, I was waiting for you.”
I can feel myself blush, a common occurrence around this man, and I grab one of the menus just to have something to do with my hands.
“Oh, that’s good,” is all I say in response, and Rowan chuckles.
I spend so many evenings or lunches here that I definitely do not need a menu at this point, but my other option is staring directly at the hunk across from me, and hiding a boner in slacks is kind of impossible.
“You’re so much shyer now, Eli,” Rowan comments, and I groan. “What did I do to cause this? What’s making you so timid, hm?” He’s teasing me, and I find that completely unfair.
“You’re being mean,” I complain, and he only grins wider. “You just… make me nervous.”
“Do I?” Rowan leans over the table, and his fingertips find my sweater, right where it sits over the indentations of his teeth. The spot still aches, and I had to disinfect and bandage it this morning. He was right—it’ll scar. “I wonder why that is.”
He applies minimal pressure, but I hiss at the contact anyway. I’m reminded immediately of the way it felt when his teeth dug into me, when my blood soaked into his gums, and my skin split.
