Chloe exhaled. “I’m starving. I’ve been roaming town and put off eating specifically for this event. Fish and chips sounds amazing, Dylan.”
Liam waved his hand in the air to get the attention of the waitress and when she approached the table he ordered fish and chips. “Would you like something to drink? Beer, wine, or perhaps you’d prefer some of the awesome pink ale, like my lightweight of a wife?”
“Pink ale, it is,” Chloe said, with a girl-power wink to Samantha.
Lights overhead flicked off and on as the waitress told Chloe her order would be dropped off soon.
“Lights off and on…that’s our cue,” yelped Sam and Liam in a freakish,we are one of those couples that do everything the same,unison. The two shot up from their seats (in unison), took one last sip of their drinks (again, in unison), and excused themselves so they could change into costume.
“They’re cute.” Chloe giggled.
“Yeah, they are…cute.”
“So, what sent you knocking on my door this time? In need of moreabblepie muffins?” Dylan couldn’t resist bringing upincident-abbleagain, Chloe’s cheeks growing a hotter shade of pink than yesterday when he opened the door, wearing only a towel.
“Um”—she paused as the waitress dropped off her pink ale—“I left something on your kitchen counter.”
Dylan crossed his arms over his chest, a mirthful twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, did you now?”
“Come on,” Chloe scoffed, “I know you saw it.”
Thing is, he had no clue what she was talking about, but something in him thought it would be fun as heck to make her squirm.
Just a little.
“Saw what, exactly?” The corner of his mouth tugged into a slow, half-smirky, smile. Just this morning he wanted to avoid her for the next few months; now in the back of his mind, he was conjuring up ways to spend every second with her.
Perhaps it was just that vanilla-scented perfume.
Chloe traced the rim of the pink ale bottle with the tip of her index finger, her accusatory set of eyes stuck on Dylan. “I left the first chapter of my manuscript on your counter.”
“Oh?” That amused him. A pen. A cell phone. Maybe even a wallet. But the first chapter of her manuscript? He never would have guessed that. “So, you want it back?”
Safe to say the answer to that question was as obvious as the slack, opened-mouth expression on Chloe’s face.
“Well, of course I want it back.” She took a sip of pale ale, swallowed, surveyed Dylan. “Did you read it?”
“Nope.” He lifted his handcrafted beer, the mouth of the bottle barely brushing his. “But I’m pretty sure I will now.”
