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Great, he could still read her mind, could home in on how she was feeling, and there was something about the way he looked at her, as if he could see right down to her soul and knew she was a phony.
For as much as she wanted him to walk right back out that door and never come back—he was good at that—a huge part of her clamored to know where he’d been, what he’d been doing, and why he’d ripped their perfect world apart.
“You don’t know what I want anymore,” she said, hating the flare of hurt in his eyes and how much her heart ached in response.
“I’d like to.”
She inhaled sharply, his poignantly-familiar, fresh outdoorsy scent reminiscent of crushed cedar leaves in a spring shower, the tantalizing trace filling her nose and lungs, making her want to lean into the soft, sensitive spot under his jaw and nuzzle him like she used to.
Ignoring the incredible yearning to do just that, she rattled the keys.
“I’m closing up.”
He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the lights she’d dimmed. “I can see that but we really need to talk.”
“Actually, we don’t.”
Because if she let him talk, let him explain why he’d run out on her all those years ago, she’d be compelled to relive the pain, and there was no way she’d go through that heartbreak again.
She’d built a new life in the years since he’d split, a better life, an independent life where she didn’t need anything or anyone and she’d like to keep it that way.
Leaning forward, he touched her cheek, the calluses on his finger-pads rasping against her skin and sending a tiny shiver of longing through her.
She remembered all too well how those work-roughened hands felt caressing her body, how gentle yet arousing they could be. How they used to circle her waist, lift her up, and spin her around until she was dizzy with the motion and the sheer joy of being with him. How strong and sure they’d been, stroking her that very first time, initiating her into pleasures she’d only ever dreamed about.
“I won’t take no for an answer.” His fingertips lingered an exquisite moment longer before he dropped his hand.
Shaking her head, she bit back the urge to laugh. There was nothing remotely funny about having the man she once loved badger her after all this time, but the young, impulsive guy she’d known back then had never been this determined.
“One coffee then you’re out of here. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Fine. Choose your poison and make it snappy.”
He grinned as he rocked back on his heels, hands thrust into pockets, confident he’d wear her down. As if.
“You sure have a way with customers.”
“You’re not a customer, you’re my…” she trailed off, not wanting to go there. She’d shut the door on the past, why open it and risk the future she’d worked so hard to build.
“Go on, say it. I’m your?”
“You know,” she bit out, sending him a withering glare that made little impact if his widening grin was any indication. “You better order that coffee before I renege and bundle you out of here right this very minute.”
He chuckled and rather than rile her, she could barely clamp down on the urge to join in. He’d always done this: made her laugh, made light of any situation, a genuine glass-half-full kind of guy. She’d loved that about him. She’d loved many things about him, which had made it all the harder to move on.
Gritting her teeth, she said, “Coffee?”
“The usual, please.”
“Coming right up.”
She swivelled on her heel, realizing her mistake a second too late. Now he’d know she remembered his favorite coffee and how he had it. Not a great advertisement for showing him that she’d moved on.
The gentle hand on her shoulder pulled her up, her body’s reaction to his innocuous touch totally flummoxing.
“I just want to say hello to some guys I know and I’ll be back in a moment to collect it.”
