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Yet.
But the hints of vanilla, orange, and sea salt along with the oddly familiar notes of lemongrass made the temptation almost unbearable, so I pulled away quickly. “Good morning, Bree.”
Her smile was only a little hesitant. “Good morning, Vinh.”
“Hurry up, will ya?!” a patron at the back of the line yelled—unwisely.
I glanced over in time to see Mom silence him with just a look.
I gestured to the menu mounted above the counter. “Do you know what you want?”
She smiled widely, her freckles dancing and eyes glimmering with the movement as she answered in a self-deprecating tone, “Never.”
Liem draped the top half of his body over the counter, making it seem like we were in some sort of team huddle. I pulled back, firmly separating myself from that kind of vibe.
“Can I choose for you, best friend?”
Bree flicked her gaze at Liem and frowned. “Don’t ever let Cody hear you say that.”
Liem's face took on a dopey look at the mention of the guy, and I made a mental note to ask them both about that later, only vaguely hearing Bree’s agreement and clocking back in when a short fight ensued when she tried to pay. I broke it up by grabbing Bree’s hand and pulling her out the side door to the small dining patio.
Liem’s muffled protests followed us all the way out.
He was getting quite possessive of her.
But so was I.
I’d been so focused on her face and worried about salvaging the morning that I hadn’t noticed what she was wearing until now.
And when I did, my possessive instincts roared to life, taking over all of my senses.
My sweater. She was wearing my sweater.
The one that had been missing for weeks.
Unaware of my internal dilemmas—all of them—Bree took a seat at the bar that lined the patio deck, situating herself to face the water on the high-backed wicker stool.
She was dressed casually and had her hair in a high ponytail with a purple bandana wrapped around it—must be her usual style—that contrasted beautifully with her red hair, making both seem even more vibrant. Through the loose knit of her—my— sweater on top, I could see that she wore a thin black tank top tucked into her jean shorts. My eyes danced over and down her freckled legs until I reached her shoes—the same glittery black ones she’d been wearing the last two times I’d seen her.
“It’s beautiful here. I can’t believe I’ve never been,” she commented in her raspy voice, eyes fixed on the bay. There was no sunshine to be found today, only an ominous-looking sky that brought a new, sharper chill from the water.
No one else was sitting on the deck, and I doubted any of the regulars would suddenly choose today to loiter out here. Most preferred grabbing their breakfasts to go. Satisfied with our privacy—which was better here than in a highly surveilled casino but maybe worse than on my houseboat—I grabbed the back of her stool and spun her around until we were face to face, keeping my hand on the back of her stool. My knuckles grazed the skin of her neck when she leaned back. The touch could’ve been played off as accidental if I hadn’t started moving my hand up and down her neck in a deliberate pattern.
My other hand landed lightly on her thigh and pushed with just enough pressure to make my intentions clear without being forceful. She allowed it and then some by opening both of her legs to make enough room for me to step between them.
If she wasn’t clear about what was happening here—what was and would be between us—by the end of this meal, then… well. That wouldn’t be ideal, but it wouldn’t be the end of the line. I still had my original plans in place, and nothing would change those.
“Good morning, Bree.”
We were only breaths apart as I watched, fascinated, as her pupils dilated as if a storm cloud had overtaken a gray, overcast sky, her eyes almost a mirror of the sky above.
“You’ve already said that,” she whispered, making no move to pull away.
I brushed my knuckles over the slope of her shoulder, following a line of freckles all the way to her jaw, before opening my hand and clasping her face. My thumb grazed her bottom lip, my heart-pounding like thunder and voice as hushed as rainfall on a shore as I asked, “May I say it another way?”
She blinked slowly once, then again, before nodding her consent. My hand tightened on her thigh as I brought my mouth to hers.
25
