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“What would you recommend?” he asked. “Or are you even old enough to drink?”
“I’m old enough,” she said.Did he not even remember her? How embarrassing.“I’m Sammi.”
“I know who you are,” he said, his eyes never wavering from hers.
“You do?” she asked dumbly.
“Of course, I do. I wouldn’t forget the girl who wrote to me every week for years,” he said. “Only in my head, that little girl was still a teenager.”
So, hehadgotten her letters, and read them. She didn’t know why that information ratcheted her heart rate up even more, but it did. She couldn’t think of anything more smart to say than, “I guess I grew up.”
“I guess you did,” he answered. His eyes traveled from her head to her toes. She had never before felt that her skin was about to combust from just the weight of a man’s gaze, hadn’t even known it was possible outside of romance books, but goodness, she felt it now.
“I didn’t know you read the letters,” she said.
His eyes returned to hers. “I read every one.”
“But you stopped responding,” she said, then almost wished she could take it back when she saw his grimace. “I mean–you didn’t have to write back or anything. I figured you were busy. Saving the world and all that.”
His expression darkened further and she inwardly cursed, wishing she knew what the right words were to say, because she was clearly messing it up.
“I wasn’t saving the world,” he said, his voice almost a growl.
“Okay.” She fiddled with her notepad, trying to find a safer subject. “Um, what drink did you want?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his attitude immediately changing. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t,” she said, pushing her hair behind her ear.
“I didn’t?”
She smiled slightly. “I could never be scared of you.”
His gaze softened. “No? Why’s that?”
She couldn’t even hear the normal sounds of the restaurant, couldn’t hear any other people around them. It was as though they were the only two people in the building. “Because it’s you. You would never hurt me.”
His eyes widened like she had struck him. He looked at her in a way that she had only imagined–like he was awed at her beauty, like she was the most precious thing he had ever seen. He stood up, leaning over the bar to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered on her face, caressing the side of her cheek.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she looked up at him. She couldn’t have moved away if the restaurant had been set on fire. She could only see the man in front of her, as breathtakingly handsome and sweet as he had ever been.Oh my word. Derrick. Is. Touching. Me.
So many times, she had dreamt of this very moment, imagined how it would feel for the heat of his body against hers, to wrap her arms around him and never let go. She wanted to feel his lips against hers with the force of a thousand heartsick teenage wishes.
When he tilted his head down, she was more than ready to meet him halfway. She pressed against the bar, lifting her face to his, and finally felt what she had been waiting all her life for: the soft press of his mouth against hers. She could have happily died on the spot that this man, the one that she had longed for, was finally wanting her back.
The kiss was brief–nothing more than the gentle press of his lips on hers–and then he was moving back and away. It took her a moment to open her eyes, to stare dreamily at him even as she wanted more.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For reminding me of something I thought I had lost.” With those cryptic words, he turned and left.
Titters of laughter followed and she was sure this kiss would be the subject of town gossip, but Sammi didn’t mind.Derrick had kissed her. Surely that had meant something. Surely he would be back to see her again, or ask her brother for her number. She went to bed that night, certain that their kiss was resounding like a bell in his heart like it was in hers. He would call her. He had to.
Only he didn’t. And it broke her heart a thousand times worse, that the kiss had been earth-shaking for her, and meant nothing to him.
