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As soon as our waitress—a pink-cheeked woman in a green dirndl dress with flowers embroidered across the chest—takes our order for two coffees and a plate of the lemon souffle pancakes to share, I collect my fork from my cloth napkin and point it at Gideon’s chest. “Spill. What’s going on? I have to know. Now.”
He eyes the fork. “I’ve never been held at fork-point before. Should I be worried?”
“Not as long as you didn’t do something horrible,” I say, my worst fear bursting from my lips before I can stop it. “You’re married, aren’t you? You’re married and your wife was at that party and that’s why you were running out of there as fast as you could. Before you both ran into me, and you had to explain how we know each other.”
He frowns. “Why would you think that?”
“You weren’t surprised to see me,” I say in a softer voice. “When you turned around in the alley. You weren’t surprised. You already knew I was there.”
He threads his fingers together on top of the table. “I did. But I’m not married, and I wasn’t there with anyone. Everything I told you in Maine was true. I promise.”
I set the fork back on my napkin and drop my hands to my lap so Gideon can’t see me wring them as I add, “Then what’s wrong? You look like someone died.”
He winces. “Not someone, but maybe something.” He shakes his head. “I know we said seeing each other again was too complicated, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I guess some part of me thought… Hoped…”
“That we’d see each other again,” I whisper, my heart soaring when he nods. “Me, too. I know long-distance relationships are horrible, but…I’ve never felt this way about someone before, Gideon.”
Before I can work up the gumption to suggest dating might be worth trying, he stuns me into silence by asking, “Even with Adrian?”
I blink, my jaw dropping.
Mercifully, the waitress arrives with our coffees and two glasses of water, giving me a moment to pull myself together before I ask, “How? How did you know I dated Adrian?”
“Dated?” he asks, his gaze guarded “Past tense? Because it didn’t look very past tense when you two were together on the red carpet.”
Suddenly, it all makes sense. What he saw, what he must have thought. And of course, he knows Adrian in some way. He was at Adrian’s party.
I exhale, relief making my voice breathy as I say, “Oh God, yes. Totally past tense. We dated in college but broke up months before I left for Maine. I wasn’t even supposed to be at the party, but Adrian’s girlfriend broke up with him last night and he needed a last-minute replacement. His best friend is dating my best friend, so he was over at my place with them and asked if I’d be his plus-one. I said yes, but only as a favor to a friend.”
“So, that kiss…” Gideon trails off, but some of the stress finally leaves his jaw.
“He was just messing with me,” I say. “Teasing. He doesn’t want to be anything more than friends again, and neither do I. He’s a good guy, deep down, but Adrian is…” I hesitate, not wanting to speak too plainly until I know the nature of Gideon and Adrian’s relationship. “He can be a lot. And not always the most thoughtful person. By the time we broke up, it was pretty clear that we didn’t have much in common.”
“I can imagine,” Gideon mutters.
My brow furrows. “How do you know him?”
He pulls in a breath, but our waitress appears again at that exact moment, setting a plate of steaming, lemon-and-sugar-scented pancakes between us. “Here you go. A stack of lemon souffle pancakes. Can I get you two anything else? Would you like another plate? Extra napkins?”
“No, we’re fine,” Gideon says, before glancing my way. “I mean, I’m okay with eating off the same plate if you are.”
“Yes, that’s fine.” I twitch my lips in the server’s direction but abandon my attempt at a smile as soon as she turns away. “So?”
“Let’s eat first,” he says, collecting his fork and knife and laying his napkin on his lap. “I want you to try these. They really are fantastic. The secret to the perfect bite is to get some of the pancake, some of the gooey lemon stuff, some whipped cream, and a hint of powdered sugar, all in the same bite.”
I start to insist that I’m not hungry, but then I catch another whiff of the pancakes and my mouth starts to water. “It does smell really good.”
“Tastes even better.” He finishes compiling the perfect bite and reaches across the table, offering it to me.
I open my mouth, gaze locked with his as he sets it on my tongue. I close my lips around it, thinking about other things I’d like to close my lips around. Then the explosion of lemon and vanilla hits my taste buds and I moan, my lashes fluttering as I swallow.
“Wow.” My tongue slips out to collect the powdered sugar from my bottom lip. I moan again and reach for my coffee, taking a slow sip, relishing the way the slightly bitter liquid somehow makes the sweetness of the pancake even more delicious.
Gideon curses beneath his breath. “Stop.”
I lift innocent eyes to his. “Stop what?”
“I’m already hard beneath the table,” he says in a voice too soft for any of the couples around us to hear.
