But here I am.
Wanting a long drive. Or to sit here in the dark, talking about anything but the cats I already miss and how this night somehow became way more than I expected.
And then, as if Knox heard something I was too damn chicken to say, he shifts in his seat, onyx eyes finding mine. “You hungry?”
CHAPTER 6
Knox
Grabbing a bite with my cat-rescuing partner-in-crime is something I told myself a decent guy’d do after the chaos we’d been through tonight.
But honestly, I’m not ready to take her home yet. Not when this gentle pull between us feels like the first real spark I’ve experienced since my divorce.
True, we’reonly neighbors. Barely even that.
Yet, here we are.
Pier 24.
Because eating greasy diner food at midnight is easier than saying goodnight.
Bells chime as we step in, neither of us pulling away as our shoulders brush.
Scents of freshly brewed coffee and bacon curl through the air while wide booths line curtain-draped bay windows, polished floors catching the glow of low fluorescent lighting from above.
A bright-eyed hostess waves us toward a row of open seats, the wordsBest Buttermilk Pancakes on the Covestamped across her teal Pier 24 shirt.
“Cozy corner booths are pretty popular here…especiallyfor two,” she says, already buzzing back toward the counter.
Cami tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, pink blooming across her cheeks.
“We must be giving incrediblecouple energy,” she says, amusement dancing across her face. “First vet tech guy and now pancake girl.”
I laugh because, truthfully, their assumption hasn’t made me cringe.
Cami bumps my shoulder on her way past, a half smile lingering as she sinks into a corner booth.
I hesitate for a beat, then slide in across from her like that playful shoulder bump didn’t shake something loose in my chest.
Our server—Vera, according to her name tag, bejeweled with coffee and pancake flair—drops off menus and two glasses of water before slipping away toward the kitchen.
As Cami and I peruse our menus, an awkward silence hovers between us. Airy but fully charged.
Maybe I should say something. Crack a joke? Anything to keep this quiet from stretching into something neither of us knows what to do with.
What’s an attic cat’s favorite game? Hide and squeak.
Jesus. No.
Instead, I bury my nose in the menu and try to pretend Goddess Cami isn’t already messing with my head more than I’d care to admit.
“I’m getting pancakes,” Cami says, breaking the silence. “Best on the Cove, at least according to their shirts.” She closes her menu and takes a sip of water. “You?”
“Not sure.” I rub the scruff on my chin, still pretending to study the menu though I haven’t read a single word. “Scrambled eggs and wheat toast for me.”
Cami snorts out a laugh. “You literally rescued a feral cat and her newborns from a stranger’s attic like it’s your side hustle. You deserve more than boring eggs and toast.”
I glance up and catch her half smile, the one that makes my chest tighten in ways I wish it wouldn’t.
