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“I’m game.” He turns fully, feet on the rungs of his stool. His knees open in a relaxed way that seems like an invitation to crawl between them.
Fine.He wants to play and won’t ply me with any more alcohol. I guess it’s time to scare him into bringing me back to Evie. I shouldn’t have stayed.
“If you know Evie, then you must have heard about her brother. He was my husband.”
I don’t know what I expected. A tick of an eyebrow or the downturn of lips. His face reveals nothing. The lack of reaction means he’s not surprised by this information.
“I did, yeah. I’m sorry for your loss.” The genuine sentiment strikes my heart where all the others reside. “It never gets easier. The distance just gets longer.”
The hand holding my glass freezes halfway to my mouth. I slowly lower it back down without taking a sip. “That’s right. God, I’m so tired of hearing that time makes it easier. The only thing time does is keep moving when I want nothing more than for it to just stop.”
Dane reaches over the bar for the soda gun and refills my glass with water. “You can’t stop time, and you can’t move around it. The only way to beat grief is to go through it. Face it head-on.”
“You sound like you have experience.” I appraise him from the corner of my eye and jab the straw between my dry lips.
“I’ve grieved both of my parents. They aren’t dead, but…they aren’t coming back.”
“I’m sorry.” The warmth of his forearm leaches into the palm I lay on him. Realizing my mistake, I quickly draw it back.
Dane’s eyes lock on my appendage as if he either wants to drag it closer or throw it off. His wary gaze reveals nothing once more.
“I suppose I should be grateful it’s just me. Eric and I didn’t have kids, and at first, that hurt, knowing I’d never have a piece of him to live on, but now…I couldn’t imagine having to care for someone else for the past six months. I barely took care of myself. I don’t see myself ever having them.” The notion is severely understated. Somedays, I still feel on the brink of death. Grief is a horrible process.
“Agreed.” Dane tips his bottle in the air in a mock salute. A smile tugs free from my lips at the first sign of playfulness.
“Oh, really?” I use the levity to chase away the perpetual fog inside me.
“I won’t have them. Don’t want them,” he says with a lip of distaste. “This bar and other responsibilities are more than enough to keep me fulfilled and occupied. I don’t have the time. Not to mention that raising kids is fucking hard. My childhood…” He trails off with a wince and a hearty laugh. “My poor mother.”
His amused rumble infects me with mirth. “But you seem so polite and respectful.”
He laughs harder, swiping his beer from the bar to down another pull. “Time and maturity can fix a lot of things. I think the world would be an even bigger mess if nobody grew out of their childhood antics.”
My faux shudder could deliver me an award. “I don’t even want to think about what I thought was cool and acceptable as a teenager.”
The way his gaze roams my face feels physical. “You? I don’t believe for a second you were anything other than as beautiful and collected as you are now.”
“I was the nerd with big, thick glasses and frizzy hair who thought wearing patterned pajama pants to school made me cool.” I deflect from his beautiful comment.
“You did not.” Dane leans forward on his stool again, his face near mine.
“I swear.”
“I can’t picture it.”
I dig my fingertips into my roots and mess up my sleek, glossy locks. A big grin slides across my face when I meet his disbelieving gawk. “Can you now?”
Heat suffuses his gaze. “You look more like you just finished in the bedroom than a high school nerd.” He bites his lower lip.
“You…you…” I sputter, leaning forward to smack him on the arm. My foot slips from the bottom rung, sending me headlong straight into Dane’s lap.
“Whoa.” His hands catch my shoulders, one in each strong grip, and haul me upright directly between his spread thighs. Mere inches span the distance between our faces. His ardent gaze roams over my face. “You okay?”
“I think so.” Just centimeters below his fingertips, my heart gallops. I swallow past the knot blocking my throat. His left hand drops from my shoulder to settle at the curve of my waist, and the saliva leaves my mouth parched, begging for a sip of water.
“You should be careful,” he susurrates, close enough his breath wafts warmly against my parted lips. His attention fixates there.
I lower my eyelids, my heart racing, and my thoughts call out to him to just do it.
Kiss me. Please.
For a moment in time, I don’t want to be the young, sad widow everyone regards with pity. I just want to be a young woman kissed in a bar.
Make me forget I’m supposed to be sad. I’m tired of the heartbreak.
Dane edges closer, and I pause my breath.
“Caiti.”
My lashes flutter before opening fully to meet his heated gaze, and my brows pinch together.
“I’m going to kiss you now.” His index finger brushes a wayward strand from my cheek.
A gasp, and then he’s there. Warm lips connect with mine, gentle and soft and slow. He inhales sharply through his nose before increasing the pressure. His top lip fits flawlessly between mine. Heat crawls up my torso, spreading the length of me. When he hauls me against his sturdy chest, I throw my hands to his shoulders for balance, not caring how we might appear to onlookers as I stand between his spread thighs. He snakes an arm around my upper back to hold me steady as his lips devour mine. Tentatively, I open my mouth to let him in, wanting to take this further.
A grated groan scrapes up his throat.
