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I squeezed the table even harder, and somehow that moved me closer, his scent taunting the tips of my nostrils.
I already knew the smell. This wasn’t the first time I’d inhaled it.
But like the first time, it hit me.
Nagged at me.
Almost tore at me.
The breeze of citrus was equally balanced with notes of amber, as if the freshness of a spring sky met the center of the woods, where the trees were the thickest.
That was Grayson’s scent.
Full of confidence.
Sex.
And dominance.
“Believe it or not, I don’t make it a habit to raise my middle finger unless the situation absolutely requires it, like that night.” I tried not to label the color of his green eyes, because it shouldn’t matter—no, it didn’t matter. “Tonight, you’re a customer, and my parents raised me to respect others. So my middle finger has stayed put unless it’s raising to give you a drink.” I laughed, the uncomfortableness tugging at all my edges. “Would I like to tell you just how you made me feel? Yes. Do I think it would make a difference?” I shook my head. “No.”
He glanced at my hands. This was the first time he’d broken eye contact since I’d been standing here.
“I have a question for you.” I took another breath, waiting for his gaze to reach me. I wasn’t sure why I wanted it, why I missed the attention, but once I had it, I said, “Why does Laura want to speak with me?”
He studied my face. Looked at me as though he were counting my freckles and taking an inventory of each pore. And when he leaned to the side, I wasn’t sure what had prompted the movement until I realized he was freeing up a pocket to remove his wallet. He slipped a card from one of the slits and held it out to me.
“What’s this for?” I paused, waiting for a response. “Do you want me to bring you a check?”
“No.”
“You just want me to run it for the full amount of tonight’s bill?”
No one had paid before they left, so I assumed they were sticking him with the tab.
His eyes narrowed as he said, “That’s why I’m giving you the card, Jovana.”
There was my name again.
Just as coarse as it had been last time, with a touch of sarcasm, which I was learning that Grayson embedded into almost everything he said.
When I reached for the card, our fingers grazed.
Just that small movement, those few seconds of contact, and I was sucking in a mouthful of air, holding it, my pulse instantly hammering away.
The tingles now like tiny flames, licking me from the inside.
“I’ll be back—”
“Add four hundred.”
I blinked several times. “Excuse me?”
“Two hundred that you never charged me from before. Two hundred for this evening.”
“But—”
“Four hundred.” He nodded toward the bar. “Go.”
