Because this didn’t feel temporary.
This felt like the beginning of something I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk away from.
And that terrified me more than anything else.
Chapter 14
DEX
The knock on my door came at exactly noon.
I’d been watching the clock for the past twenty minutes, cleaning counters that were already clean, rearranging the dish towel three times, checking my reflection in the microwave door like some kind of lunatic.
This was ridiculous. I was supposed to be one of those rare things called an adult. I ran my own business. I could rebuild an engine blindfolded. I should not be this nervous about a woman coming over for lunch.
But this wasn’t just any woman. This was Leigh.
And this wasn’t just lunch. This was the first time she’d been here since that first perfect night. And the morning when she’dleft wearing last night’s dress and I’d watched her cab disappear down my street with a stupid smile on my face.
Twenty-four hours. It had been twenty-four hours and I’d thought about her approximately seven hundred times.
I was in so much trouble.
The knock came again, and I forced myself to walk to the door like a normal person. Not too fast. Not too eager.
I opened it, and every reasonable thought in my head evaporated.
She stood on my porch in jeans that hugged her curves and a simple t-shirt that somehow made her look more beautiful than any dress could. Her hair was up in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She held a paper bag from the deli in one hand and a cardboard carrier with two cups in the other.
And she was smiling at me like I was the best thing she’d seen all day.
My heart did something stupid and I swear to God I swooned like some old timey princess.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.” The word came out rougher than I intended. I cleared my throat. “You didn’t have to bring food. I could have cooked.”
She raised an eyebrow as she stepped past me, the scent of her perfume making my head spin. “You can cook?”
“I can make about three things without setting off the smoke alarm.”
“Three? That’s very specific.”
“Scrambled eggs. Grilled cheese. And spaghetti. But only if I don’t get distracted, and I’ll admit I cheat and use jarred sauce.”
She laughed, that full-throated sound that I was quickly becoming addicted to. “Then I definitely made the right choice bringing sandwiches.” She set the bag and drinks on my kitchen counter, then turned to face me. “Plus coffee. I know how you take it now.”
Something about those words hit me square in the chest. She wasn’t the only person in the world who knew how I took my coffee, but she’d paid attention. We had coffee once and she thought enough to remember it, because it mattered to her. BecauseImattered to her.
When had that happened? When had we gone from strangers to this. To knowing each other’s coffee orders, to her moving around my kitchen like she belonged there?
I watched as she opened cabinets with confident familiarity, pulling out plates without asking where they were. She knew I kept the cups by the sink. Knew which drawer held the silverware. Knew I liked my water with ice but not too much because it watered down the drink too fast. All of these were details she’d seen only once, but she’d remembered.
“Earth to Dex?” She was watching me, head tilted, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You okay? You’re staring.”
“Yeah. Just...” I moved closer, couldn’t help myself. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Something soft crossed her face, vulnerability I was starting to recognize. “Me too. I’ve been thinking about being here since I left yesterday.”
