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I ball my fist in front of my mouth while I finish chewing the last bite of popcorn. Part of me wants to say I’d like her hair if it were short, long, red, pink, purple, or buzzed as short as mine, but I keep that to myself. Instead, I wash down that bite with the last of my beer and lean over the table toward her.
“People change, Josie. I was a teenager when I said that.” I gesture between us. “I’m pretty sure neither of us are the same as we were then.” I straighten up on the stool and look around the bar before flashing her an apologetic smile. “Anyway, all of that to say, I wasn’t lying.”
Her nose scrunches, bunching up her freckles as she regards me with curiosity before she catches me off guard by leaning over the table.
She cups my jaw in her small, soft hand and swipes her thumb over my beard. I suck in a breath when the pad of her thumb lingers over the hollow of my cheek, and I swear my heart ceases to function.
“What are you doing?” I choke out.
“You have popcorn in your beard, you big goof.”
The charged contact—just like when our hands touched at the diner—threatens to unleash ten years of pent-up longing. The only reason I know my heart is still functioning is because when her breasts press against my arm, blood rushes to my cock.
Joggers might have been a comfortable choice for a low-key night, but now I’m probably stuck sitting on this barstool for the foreseeable future unless I want everyone here to get a good look at my throbbing erection.
Looking into her irises, I see that glimmer of mischief that’s burned into my psyche lurking below those deep honey pools.
“Did you get it?” I ask, my voice hoarse and barely holding together.
“Yeah, there’s no more popcorn.”
“Then why are you still touching my face?”
“Just checking if they’re still there.” She lets out a curious little hum as her thumb traces my dimple. “Glad you didn’t grow out of those, even if you’re still a dumbass.”
“Why am I dumbass?” I manage to whisper, feeling like no one else exists in the noisy bar except for the two of us.
Every breath I take is filled with her. She smells… tropical, maybe? It’s like some fruity cocktail with maybe even a hint of rum, not the tequila we’ve been tossing back for hours. The scent is perfectly her—wild, exotic, and unpredictable.
“For hiding those dimples with that beard.” She lets go of my jaw before patting my cheek and sitting back on her stool.
My eyes roll back, and a gruff laugh rumbles up my chest. I let out the breath I was holding to avoid breathing in her scent that’s more intoxicating than any drink. Finally, I feel like I can breathe again.
Part of me wants to say that’s why I keep a beard—to cover my dimples—because every time someone mentions them, it reminds me of how she would gush about them. I don’t want to say anything heavy tonight, because for the first time in ages, I feel light. I feel good—like some semblance of my old self still exists.
“I knew they always were your favorite thing about me.” I feel the trace of a smug grin cross my face.
“Awww,” she coos sarcastically. “That’s funny.”
I cock my head. “What’s funny?”
“Josie! Get over here.” My cousin’s voice cuts across the loud bar. We both look toward the pool table to see Cat and Sisi waving enthusiastically for her to join them.
Josie holds up a finger to say ‘one second’ and hops off the barstool. Her eyes meet mine, and I see that mischievous glint in them again. “It’s funny you still think there was only one thing I liked about you. Don’t let that go to your head, Big Guy.”
Her tone is indecently sultry and frustratingly sexy given the situation in my pants that’s keeping me from following her. There’s something else about her tone that’s so familiar, but I can’t place it.
Either way, what she said and how close she was to me, I’m fucking back to malfunctioning like the teen that was helplessly in love with her. She glances down at my joggers and smirks back at me before heading over to the girls.
Goddammit.
She fucking knows what she still does to me.
CHAPTER 10
JOSIE
Demise
