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See, your grandmother was trying to make her best friend jealous and she agreed to have a meal with me even though she wasn’t really interested in meeting a guy that night.
Maybe it was supposed to be the start of something grand.
But we’ll never know.
The suit’s chances got obliterated the moment Kastle bought a drink for me. It disappeared like dew in the morning when he sent over my favorite meal.
I ate. I tasted. I drank. And I thought of Kastle. Of the fact that he was sitting there in a navy button-down with his tattoo sleeve peeking out of the hem. His hair brushed back to reveal his strong jaw and cheekbones. His big hands gracefully clutching a glass of what? Brandy? No. Scotch.
It has to be scotch.
Smooth and easy.
Like him.
Like his voice in my ear.
Like his hands down my thighs.
Kastle mercilessly obliterated the game that I was supposed to be winning. He took over. He showed me my place. That he knows me. That he won’t fall for my ploy.
And it pisses me off.
How dare he so effortlessly thwart my plans? How dare he remind me that no one will ever compare to him no matter how hard I search? How dare he make me long for him?
My fingers tremble on the fork and, when I notice him passing by with his date, I make it a point to stare at him. To let the anger rushing through my veins snap in my eyes and lash against his back.
He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even glance in my direction. The woman catches my eye. She slants me a disdainful look as she clutches Kastle, gluing herself to his side like she’s afraid he’ll run off if she gives him an inch to breathe.
My blood boils.
I know one thing for sure.
Kastle was smiling before he disappeared. I saw the smirk on his lips. The victory in his eyes.
My heart thuds so hard and fast I’m about to faint.
No way is this done here.
I stand abruptly.
The suit glances up. “What’s wrong?”
“This was fun.” I grab my purse. “I’d say thanks for the drink, but you’re not paying for it.”
His eyebrows shoot up. Mottled red spreads on his cheeks.
I scoot out of the booth and stomp to the exits. My eyes are on the road ahead. There isn’t much traffic. What are the odds of me catching a taxi?
I’m about to pull out my phone and call an Uber when a deep voice rumbles in my ear, “Let me take you home.”
Awareness sends a shot of adrenaline through my body. I’m familiar with that voice. With every version of it. When it deepens with need. When it lightens in happiness. When it’s stiff and forced in an interview. When it’s commanding a boardroom.
I feel his presence. Smell his spicy fragrance.
Before I even turn around, I know that it’s Kastle behind me.
My eyes zip from him to the empty space by his side. “Where’s your date?”
