He puts it down on the table. I reach across and pick it up. “More for me.”
That amused look is back in his eyes, which glints with copper tones in the sunlight shining down on us. "Are you done now? Can I speak?"
I nod and then immediately shake my head. “Nope. I’m not done. You can date Shelby if you want to date Shelby. She’ll never leave Silver Bay. She’s very happy and has a great job. But maybe that distance makes dating easier for a self-proclaimed commitment-phobe like you.”
“When did I proclaim myself commitmentphobic?”
“You said you don’t want anything after your ex,” I remind him and he averts his eyes. Yup. I nailed it. “I remember everything. Anyway, I can forget this ever happened and you go be with… whoever. Even if it’s Shelby. My cousin. A direct blood relative in a family that’s closer than peas in a pod. But yeah. Whatever.”
I stare off at Laurel Canyon Boulevard where there's a constant stream of cars zipping to and from the San Fernando Valley. I'm trying to look cool and unaffected. I sip my tea. I bite off a piece of my shortbread. But he stays silent so long that I have to steal a glance at him.
Crew is staring at me with the most deliciously intense gaze. Like he's trying to peel off my clothes using telepathic superpowers. And it’s so hot that I find myself wishing he had those powers. I bite my lip. He leans forward, big forearm covering almost the whole top of the table, and with his free hand he presses his thumb to my chin and tugs my lip free from my teeth. “You can’t forget our time together.”
“No. I can’t. But I can pretend I forgot.”
“What if I don’t want you to.”
“If you tell Shelby we… did it… she won’t date you,” I warn him.
“That would be a tragedy if I wanted to date Shelby,” he replies and leans back in his seat, finally unwrapping his shortbread. I’m already halfway through mine. “I don’t. I have never had a single ounce of interest in Shelby Garrison.”
"Why not?" I demand. "Shelby is gorgeous and she's smart. She's got a great career and big heart and an incredible sense of humor. She's also sporty. Loves hiking in the summer and skating in the winter. She and Harlow were state figure skating champions you know. Who doesn't want a champion?"
He chuckles. It’s such a deep, satisfying sound. “So you’re not just okay with me dating Shelby, you want me to.”
“What? No!”
“Then stop shaming me for not being interested. FYI I went into the lounge to find you that night, but Tenley saw me and I couldn’t tell her that so I stupidly asked to meet your cousin and she took it the wrong way.” He bites into the shortbread and after chewing a second he moans and I feel it like he just licked my clit. Sweet Lord, this man. I have never been this physically reactive to someone. How does he do this to me? “This is incredible! What’s it called again?”
"Millionaire's shortbread," I say and smile at his praise. "Rosie makes it herself. Not hockey diet-friendly though. It's got a whole pound of butter in it, which is probably why Bobby McGee hates Rosie. He loves butter and always wants to steal a bar from behind the counter and she has to shoo him off because of the chocolate layer. He can’t have chocolate.”
“Who the hell is this Bobby McGee?”
I scan the area and find him in one of his favorite haunts, under a potted palm in the far corner of the porch. I point. Crew’s eyes land on the long-haired tabby cat. “A stray that showed up at the store as a kitten. They lock him in at night so he doesn’t get eaten by coyotes or smoked by a car.”
He nods. “The name is because of the history of the store?”
“Yes. But more specifically Rosie thinks his meowing sounds like Janis Joplin singing.” I lean forward and whisper the next part because I know it sounds crazy but I don’t not believe it. “Rosie swears the cat is Janis reincarnated.”
Crew’s eyes widen and he slides them back to the cat. Then back to me. He is trying so hard not to laugh. “Who are we to say no?”
“Exactly.” I break first, giggling, and he lets his laughter fly.
We giggle so long and hard that I have to wipe tears from my eyes. He finishes the last of his shortbread in one big bite and after he swallows he says, “How can something that feels so easy be so complicated?”
I blink, the cup of chai against my lips. “Huh?”
He motions to me and then to himself. "We're easy. Together. This…. isn't work. It's easy. I've never had an easy relationship."
I don’t want to say anything to that because I don’t want to ruin the feeling that’s washing over me. It’s warm, sweet, happy. I smile and sip the last of my tea.
"But it's also fucking complicated as fuck," he announces and balls up the shortbread wrapper. "If we go public with this then I have to explain to Tate and the team, I broke the teammate policy. And I mean… there are other factors."
He pauses and doesn't tell me what those other factors are. Instead, he tosses the wrapper through the air and it swishes into a garbage can across the patio. Pleased with himself he grins and then stands and gives me his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
I take his hand and stand. He yanks me to his chest so unexpectedly I squeak but then his lips are brushing mine and I sigh, tip my head, and kiss him. He softly cups my cheek and kisses me back, long and hard and like no one is watching. But someone is watching—Bobby McGee. I catch his judgy glare as we break apart.
Hand-in-hand we walk back to the bike. "So Inky, are you saying you want to go public with this one-night stand?"
