Page 42 of Long Story Short

Before I can ask him what’s on his mind, our server returns to the table. “I’ve got a bottle of sparkling water for you both and the orange juice for you.” He places the orange juice in front of me before opening the bottle of sparkling water and pouring it into both of our glasses.

“Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?” the server asks.

My eyes immediately find Tyson’s as I wonder if he’s really going to do it. He watches me closely for a moment before his attention moves to the server. “Yes, we are. We’ll actually order one of each item from the Chef’s Menu.”

The server doesn’t seem fazed at all by Tyson’s order. If anything, he jots it down on his notepad as if it’s the most normal thing in the world for someone to order as much as Tyson just did for only two people.

“Would you like anything else?” The server’s attention moves to me, and I swear I hear Tyson let out an annoyed sigh.

I give him a polite smile. “I think that’ll be plenty.” I hand him my menu before glancing back at Tyson.

His gaze slides past me and settles on our server. “That’ll be it for us,” he says evenly. “Thank you.”

His words come out polite, but there’s still something about his tone that makes my lips twitch.

Is he jealous? Even if he is, I love that he wasn’t rude to the server.

Tyson watches the server all the way until he disappears inside the club before looking at me once again. The moment our gazes meet, his jaw seems to slacken as he leans back in his chair. “So,” he begins, clearing his throat, “now that we’ve ordered, tell me about how writing went last night.”

I lift my glass of water, hiding my smile behind the rim as I take a sip. “I already told you it went well. I was feeling inspired.”

Tyson nods, shifting in his chair. His knee bumps into mine underneath the table in the process. For a moment, neither of us moves as our gazes stay locked on each other.

It takes me a few moments to catch on, but I realize he isn’t pulling away.

His leg stays there, pressed lightly against mine, like it belongs there.

Heat spreads up my neck at the contact, my skin suddenly far too aware of the connection between us.

If he notices the new flush to my cheeks, he doesn’t say anything. He stares at me as if his knee pressed against mine is the most normal thing in the world.

“Tell me more. Was I the source of this inspiration?”

My blush only intensifies. I could try to blame the redness staining my cheeks on the sun that’s beating down on me, but we both know it isn’t the truth. It’s because of him. “You already know you helped inspire me.”

The smirk he gives me is lethal. “I wanted to hear you say it out loud,” he rasps.

The sound of his voice does dangerous things to my pulse.

I rub my lips together in an attempt to hide my smile, but it’s no use. I know he can see it, and I don’t even care if he does. “Well, now you know.”

“Are you going to let me inspire you more?” he asks, his voice completely composed.

Meanwhile, my pulse has spiked just by a simple question. I squeeze my thighs together, still all too aware of the place where his leg presses against mine.

“I do think my first kiss scene could use some work. I didn’t make it there yet. I was so focused on all the tension before the kiss last night and this morning that I didn’t have a chance to get that far before you showed up for breakfast.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“I’m not.”

He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle. Only the sound of clattering silverware a few tables down reminds me that we’re in public.

“So…you need inspiration for a kiss, then?” he asks, his voice lowered. There’s a huskiness to it that sends shivers down my spine.

This man. I don’t know how he manages to have such an effect on me just by asking simple questions, and yet my entire body is lit with desire. I almost wish we weren’t in public so I could take matters into my own hands and finally kiss him myself.

“I might,” I respond, my voice barely above a whisper.