Page 120 of Flirting with 40

“Impressive,” he murmurs. “Your car break down?”

“Nope.” I take another sip. “I told my ex off the other day. That was a bright spot in the week.”

I feel his body jolt beside me, but I keep looking ahead, keep playing this game because there is so much I need to say to him, but I know the minute I turn to him all that’s going to come out is I’ve fallen in love with him . . . and he deserves to hear it all.

“He probably deserved it.”

“He did, but he isn’t worth wasting my breath on.”

“Smart lady.” He hangs his head and chuckles. I see him in my periphery, and my fingers itch to reach out and touch him. “So, it isn’t the job or the car or the ex . . . may I ask what it is that made your week so rough?”

“You see, I met this guy.” I finally turn to face him, and what I thought would happen, happens. My words slip away—hell, the world slips away—when our eyes meet just like that first night. Back then, my loss of words was because he was strikingly handsome and I wondered why in the hell he was talking to me. Now I know there is so much more to him than his looks, and I don’t want him to stop talking to me.

He offers me a lopsided smile. “Lucky guy.”

“That depends how you look at it,” I murmur, afraid to look away and miss one more second of everything about him.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I met this guy. He was pushy and handsome and so goddamn nice that I couldn’t say no to him when he insisted he spend time with me. He was unexpected and not even on my radar. He brought out sides of me I never knew I had, and . . . and now, I’m not sure what to do about him.”

“What’s there to worry about if you like him?” He angles his head to the side as he braces his hand on the back of my barstool. His thumb rubs up and down over my bare shoulder, sending electric currents through my every nerve.

“There’s everything to worry about.” I chuckle when all I want to do is reach out and touch him in turn.

“Like?”

“Like how I tell him I like him more than I should. Like how I keep thinking about him and how much fun we have and wondering if that’s what it would always be like. Then I worry if our connection was so strong simply because we were removed from reality and now that we’re back, it wouldn’t be the same.” I suck in a breath of air and continue before I lose my nerve. “Then there’s the fact that he’s such a genuinely good guy that I wonder every day if I deserve to have someone like him—I mean if he were to want to have me, that is. Add to that he makes me boil-bunny crazy with how much I want him, but I’m afraid to tell him or put my heart on the line because I’ve been told in the past he doesn’t typically stay with one woman for very long—”

And before I can finish the litany of things I want to say, Slade’s lips are on mine. I try to keep talking, to keep explaining, to plead with him, but he just puts his hands on both sides of my face and slips his tongue between my lips to stop me.

I’ve never been told to shut up so perfectly.

I don’t care that we’re in the middle of this trendy bar where people are probably thinking how tacky we are because they don’t matter. Not a single person or any of their opinions do. The only thing that matters is him and this moment and the hope that is surging through me.

He ends the kiss with a brush of his lips and then pulls back ever so slightly with his hands still framing my face. “Boil-bunny crazy?” He quirks an eyebrow. “Something tells me that should concern me.”

“Okay, Ted Bundy.”

His grin is as wide as mine as we stare at each other like teenagers, drinking in the moment.

“Touché.” His thumb runs over my bottom lip. “So, about this guy?”

I laugh. It’s loud and rich and carefree and feels so damn good after the stress of the past week.

“I think maybe my fear was preventing me from accepting how I felt about him and I think he felt about me.” Hope resonates through my voice and the little boy look on his face has me melting.

“Love is sometimes hard to accept,” he says.

“And sometimes it’s so effortless it’s scary.”

“Maybe that’s when you know it’s right.” He brushes his lips against mine again.

“Wait. Love?” I ask trying to pull back, but he holds me in place as his lips smile against mine.

“Yes, love.”

This time he leans back, our eyes locked as our hearts beat in synch.