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What the hell is he doing?

And why am I not stopping him?

“Here,” he says, handing the phone back to me. “My number is in there now. Call if you need me.”

I nod, my brain still not firing on all cylinders. “Okay.”

With that damn smirk on his face, he goes back over to his table and sits down, grabbing his coffee and taking a sip as he continues watching me out of the corner of his eyes.

Sweet fucking Jesus.

I need a minute.

Turning on my toes, I head back into the kitchen way too damn fast to try and play it cool but I don’t even care anymore. My body feels things I’ve never fucking felt before.

I feel…achy.

Needy.

Borderline fucking desperate.

Holy hell.

I’ve never wanted a kiss that badly in my entire life.

Never even experienced chemistry like that.

Oh, this is bad.

This is so so bad.

I can’t do this.

I’m not ready.

Not in a place to even try something with a man like Dalton.

Kiss a man if you feel like it.

The way Morgan said it was so…simple. Could it be simple? With Dalton? I’ve never been the kind of girl to have casual relationships but maybe… maybe I could try? Could we keep things casual and I could explore in all the ways I suddenly very much want to explore the man sitting in the dining room.

I go to the kitchen door window and peek out.

But he’s gone.

My heart drops.

Stepping out into the dining room, I eye the table he was just sitting at and frown. He cleaned it. His coffee cup and plate that the cinnamon roll was sitting on are stacked neatly on the counter and the table is wet like it’s been freshly wiped down.

Where the hell did I leave that rag?

I find it sitting on the counter next to his dishes and I blow out a breath. Usually, customers just leave their dishes on the table and then me or one of the other employees go clean them up. It’s just part of the job.

But he didn’t.

He cleaned up after himself and I can’t help but wonder if he did it, just so I wouldn’t have to.

Chapter Eleven