“Didn’t ask.”
“Ouch.” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock injury, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Well, if you need a tour of Elmwood, I’m free. I’ve lived here my whole life, and I promise I know all the spots. Best pizza, best views, the spots nobody knows about, the?—”
“I’ll pass,” I interrupted. “I like to figure things out on my own. Independence and all.”
“So, you have a boyfriend,” he assumed, like he couldn’t fathom I’d turn him down. “He doesn’t need to know. I can be discreet.”
I scoffed, unable to believe this guy. “Discreet isn’t my style.” I took another bite, not correcting the fact that I definitely didn’t have a boyfriend, and licked a crumb off the corner of my lip.
His eyes lingered on my mouth, studying me in a way that made my skin prickle, not unpleasantly, which was annoying. Reaching across the table, he snatched my phone and began tapping on the screen.
“Hey!” I protested, trying to grab it back, but he evaded my hand.
“Give me just a second, Freckles.”
I instantly hated the nickname and that he felt he knew me well enough to give me one. We’d just met. Finally, sliding my phone back toward me, he said, “Text me if you change your mind or you and the boyfriend decide to call it quits.Orif you want that tour.” He winked as he stood.
“Don’t hold your breath,” I muttered, intending to immediately delete his number once he was gone.
“See you around, Freckles.”
I snorted.Hopefully, not.
Then he was gone, the bell above the door chiming as he disappeared down the sidewalk, and I watched him go until he was lost in the crowd. I exhaled slowly and gathered my stuff, shoving my phone into my bag. I had no plans to ever call Mason.
Gathering my stuff and my matcha, I headed toward the exit. I’d nearly made it out the door when I remembered Mom. I’d forgotten to get her a drink. I’d been so distracted by dimples. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath, pivoting sharply on the worn floorboards and slamming directly into something solid.
My nose smashed into a wall that hadn’t been there a second ago.
Not a wall.
A chest.
Hard. Warm. Definitely human.
The impact sent the iced coffee in his hand jerking upward. Liquid sloshed over the plastic lid, splashing cold across my forearm and the front of my tank top. Ice cubes launched themselves toward freedom, scattering across the floor around our feet.
“Oh—shit—” I gasped, stumbling back half a step, my tote bag sliding down my shoulder.
Liquid seeped through the thin fabric of my tank top, and I glanced down to see the dark stain spreading across my chest, which made my nipples more prominent. I slightly groaned, regretting the decision to leave the house without a bra.
“Fuck,” he muttered in a deep voice as a strong hand landed on my shoulder, steadying me, his other still clutching the half-gone drink.
I glanced up, breath catching in my throat. Not because the collision hurt. Because the universe had a deeply cruel sense of timing.
That face.
I knew that face. Sort of. The dark hair, the strong jaw, the build suggesting he did more than just exist in his body. He honed it. Athletic as fuck.
We’d only met minutes ago. Mason.
My brows drew together. How was he back already? Had he forgotten something? Was this town so small that leaving meant circling the block and returning thirty seconds later?
Except…
The longer I stared, and I was definitely staring, which was mortifying, the less it matched the memory I’d filed away three minutes ago. The eyes, for one. Yes, they were the same shade of light green but were far too serious instead of playful. No amused cockiness dancing at the corners. Not a speck of recognition gleamed.
His eyes darted from my face to my shirt and my obvious nipples. They hardened under his stare.
