“Small towns have their disadvantages,” I admit, “but I don’t know if I’d want to live anywhere else. Unless I inherited a tropical island.” I slow my steps as we approach the coffee shop. “Then I’d be on the first flight out.”
He chuckles, holding the door for me.
Inside, the scent of espresso wraps around us. I smile at a few familiar faces but keep moving toward the counter.
“So is that your dream?” Declan asks as we join the line. “Moving to a tropical island?”
“More of a fantasy. I’d miss my mom and sister too much. Plus, I’m about to become an aunt.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks. What about you? Where wouldyoulive if you could go anywhere?”
He shrugs. “I like where I?—”
“And you can’t say where you live now,” I cut in. “Anywhereelsein the world. Where would you choose?”
His eyes find mine. “This place is growing on me. Especially the people. Especiallyoneperson in particular.”
I swallow. That’s the kind of thing people say when they’re in a relationship. When they have feelings for each other. We’re just two people who happen to have amazing sex.
Nothing more.
But before I can remind him of this, an annoyed voice calls my name. I tear my gaze from Declan to see the line in front of us has disappeared. I give the barista, Tilly, an apologetic smile and hurry up to the counter.
“A ginger tea and an Americano with steamed milk.”
“Make that two Americanos,” Declan says from behind me, leaning in and handing Tilly a twenty, his body brushing against mine.
“You don’t have to pay for my coffee. Or my sister’s tea.”
“Tis the season of giving,” he says with a mischievous grin. “And I really like giving.”
Tilly looks from me to Declan, and I can see her brain spinning, which is never a good thing. I’ve known her for most of my life. She was voted biggest gossip of our high school graduating class, which is saying something, considering we live in a small town full of gossips. The last thing I need is for Tilly to spread baseless rumors about seeing me and Joshua’s dad getting all cozy at the coffee shop.
“Thanks.”
As Tilly counts out his change, I move to the far end of the counter to put some space between us. I keep my eyes fixed on the baristas preparing espresso and steaming milk, as if it’s themost fascinating thing I’ve ever seen. Anything to help me ignore the fluttering in my stomach, especially when I sense Declan approach from behind, the tiny hairs all over my body standing on end.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he murmurs after several seconds, his voice low, almost a growl. “Doesn’t help that my bed still smells like you. And not just your body wash, either. It still smells like your cunt.”
I close my eyes. “Declan…”
“I know.” His breath is warm against my ear. “I know I shouldn’t think about you like this. It’s wrong on so many levels. Part of me thought last night would be enough. That I could get you out of my system.”
“And did you?”
He huffs a laugh. “We both know the answer to that. We both know it’s impossible.”
I turn, meeting his gaze. “But this?—”
“Can’t go anywhere.” He curves toward me. “But knowing that doesn’t make me want you any less. Doesn’t make?—”
“Declan!” the barista calls out. “Two Americanos and a ginger tea.”
I quickly turn away, grateful for the welcome distraction, and approach the counter. I hand Declan his Americano before grabbing my two drinks, then start for the door.
I only make it a few steps before a hand on my forearm stops me.
