“Nice tables.” His voice is smooth and unhurried. "All done…" he says, his gaze lingering on mine. "For now." He shoots me a wink as he places the rack of balls on the counter with deliberate care.
I reach for them, our fingers almost touching. "Thanks."
He slowly takes a seat on one of the stools. The pause before he speaks is noticeable, like he's measuring each word. “I love what they’ve done with the place."
I notice his long fingers, perfect for shooting over a ball—or playing an instrument, maybe.
“Thanks.” My voice comes out softer than intended. "My husband and I own it. His dad retired a few years back and passed it down to us.”
"Husband," he repeats, a slight smile playing at his lips.
Liza materializes beside me, practically vibrating with energy. "And I'm Liza, the single one." She reaches across the bar, grasping his hand. "Where have you been all my life?"
Caine laughs—a warm sound that fills the quiet bar. "Originally from around here," he tells us. "Relocated to Portland for a development project quite a few years back."
"Developer, huh?" Liza leans forward. "What kind of development?"
"Mixed-use properties." He turns his attention back to me. "This building has wonderful bones. Historic textile factory, isn't it?"
I nod, surprised by his knowledge. "How did you know?"
"The architectural details." He gestures toward the exposed beams. "I notice these things."
Liza jumps in with more questions, and Caine answers each one with unhurried charm. They chat about Portland, his move, and how he discovered ourlittle pool hall a long time ago. He's a little evasive, but playful with Liza, yet his eyes keep finding their way back to me.
When he finally prepares to leave, he pulls out his wallet and leaves a generous tip.
"Will we see you again?" Liza asks boldly.
Caine's gaze shifts to me, lingering long enough that I feel warmth creep into my cheeks.
"Most definitely." He speaks directly to me, though the question came from Liza. "I've found something worth coming back for."
Damn.
After he leaves, I stand frozen, feeling the ghost of his gaze like a physical touch.
"Well," Liza whispers, fanning herself dramatically. "That man is trouble with a capital T."
I nod silently, knowing she's right—and knowing, somehow, that Caine Hall is about to become a regular fixture in my life.
CHAPTER TWO
Dinner at the kitchen table is always a mix of chaos and warmth. It’s pitch-dark outside tonight, and it makes the kitchen’s warm glow feel even cozier. My famous breaded lemon chicken sits on flowery plates, steaming and golden, with lemon linguini twirled beside it. Liam picks at his harvest salad, his little fingers meticulously removing each caramelized pecan like they might jump out at him.
Reeves laughs, his deep voice resonating through the room. “Buddy, those nuts aren’t going to bite you.”
Liam looks up, a serious expression on his face. “But they look scary, like tiny brains.”
Reeves smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah… that's exactly what they look like… I agree."
I watch him across the table, admiring how his darkhair falls just past his shoulders. Even after seven years, he still makes my pulse quicken. Tonight, after Liam is in bed...
"So this guy at the conference," Reeves continues between bites of chicken, "Dave something-or-other, wouldn't stop talking about his new POS system."
"Mmhmm." I push food around my plate, my appetite fading. He always gets to attend those conferences while I'm stuck here juggling everything.
"And Sarah from The Homemaker kept trying to sell everyone on her homemade muffins. Like anyone cares."
