Page 76 of Just Ten Seconds

In the three years since my life imploded, I’ve never once felt like I was headed in the right direction until the moment Dean flicks his gaze up to mine and holds it there.

“That is so not the type of thing you say on the worst first date,” I say.

“This is the best first date I’ve ever been on, and we haven’t even had our dinner.”

His finger draws small circles in my palm as his other hand lifts up to my face and pushes my hair behind my ear. With his hand cupped along my cheek, he pulls me in ever so gently as his lips caress mine.

I hesitate for a moment, knowing I shouldn’t be kissing this man, and yet as his warmth envelops me, one hand gently caressing my cheek and the other gripping mine ever so powerfully, I feel compelled to kiss him back.

Our kiss on the dance floor was urgent and powerful. This kiss is soulful and deep. For a woman who doesn’t like to draw attention to herself, I certainly have found myself abandoning my principles as his tongue glides against mine, pulling me deeper into the kiss.

Breathing deeply, Dean pulls away, as still as a child who is worried he has done something wrong. “Shit. I ruined it for real.”

I pull him toward me before he settles back into his chair. “You did. But you didn’t.”

“You’re not ready.”

“I’m not, but I really like this good-bad date. It makes me feel. You make me feel.”

“Feel what?” He moves in closer again.

“Like me. The old me. The new me. I’m not quite sure.”

He smiles. “I know the feeling.”

This time, it’s me who leans in for the kiss again. I might not be ready, but I’ve lost the ability to stay away from him.

“Ahem,” the waitress clears her throat as she stands at our table with two plates of spaghetti in her hands.

Dean and I separate at the sight of her. She only grins.

“You two are having some first date. I should recommend that wine more often.”

As she walks away, we laugh into each other’s hands and enjoy our dishes of spaghetti.

“Mara, table six!” Nick bellows from the kitchen window that now bares the new A-rating the café received this week.

With a bounce to my step, I walk over to my customers and get their refills, as they requested.

The morning has been going quickly. I work the room, filling orders, and serving drinks. While it’s taken a while for some older members of the town to get used to the new menu, the breakfast has been a hit with the millennials. Pancetta pancakes, stuffed challah French toast, steel cut oatmeal, and artisan omelet dishes have everyone holding up their iPhones to take pictures before posting on social media.

Connie, the weekend waitress, walks up to me with her long, dark hair and red fingernails. “Looks like it’s gonna rain again.”

She sidles up next to me at the coffee bar. I peer out the window at the darkening sky.

“Hopefully, it holds out until we close. Any good plans today?” I ask.

“Just hanging out with my son. If it rains, I’ll probably take him to the movies.”

“How is Brandon?”

“Good. Not making a ton of friends. I blame his deadbeat father for his lack of confidence. If that fucker didn’t leave, I swear, he’d be a different kid.”

I place a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll find his calling.” I start to walk away when a thought dawns on me. “Hey, why don’t you bring him by the children’s theater? We’re putting on a performance of The Little Mermaid. He won’t get a main role because they’re already cast, but I can make him one of the sailors. It’d be a great place for him to meet other kids.”

She scrunches her face. “I don’t think so. Theater isn’t really his thing. He’s more of a gamer. He loves his video games.”

“Well, no one has ever learned social skills from watching video games. Bring him by tomorrow. He’ll love it.”