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I clear my throat. “Good luck with that.So, tell me, did you get some weirdos or was it just me?”
He leans in and gestures for me to as well.I’m a hairbreadth away from his lips and his eyes up close swallow me whole—they’re so… expansive, like the ocean, stretching for miles and miles, drowning anyone nearby. I should look away…
“The lady with the Marge Simpson hair propositioned me… I think,” he whispers, his face animated.“She said she had the sweetest pie I could taste.Swear to God, Scar, I don’t know if she meant actual pastry or you know what.I almost asked for clarification, but thought better of giving her the wrong impression.”
I stifle a giggle in my hand.“No way.”
We both glance over at her—hard to miss the blazing cerulean hair stacked high atop her head—and snicker, his breath mingling with mine,the bold scent of coffee and peppermint between us.Wiping our eyes from the tears brought on by laughter, we sit back in our chairs, gazes locked on each other, smiles still dancing on our lips.It’s always been this easy with him.No pretenses, no games, just a cozy friendship—that’s growing fuzzy in my mind, the lines blurring, unsettling me.
“I don’t know. I kinda like the blue hair. It’s understated. She fits in, like the barista,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at Mikey pouring milk into the cappuccino machine, his bright orange hair styled in short spikes on his head. “Opposites on the color wheel, it’s cheery.”
“She’s like eighty. I’m thinking she was more like ‘I’m old and don’t give a fuck,’” he says with a laugh.
“If Theo wanted to color his hair something crazy, would you let him?”
Picking up a stray crumb, he tosses it at my face. “Of course. I don’t care what he does as long as he’s a good person. Why the random question?”
I shrug, flicking the crumb away. “Don’t know. We’re usually on the same page with him and I guess the phone call I had earlier this week with my mom rattled me. She goes on and on about Theo and the sports he likes, and I want to make sure we’re giving him the freedom he deserves to choose what and who he wants to be.”
Grey looks down at the table, examining his fingers, and I realize I may have hit too close to home. “Listen, I’m sorry if—”
He lays a warm hand on top of mine. “No, stop. It’s okay. You’re a great mom and I don’t think I’m too shabby of a dad. Theo’s good, and if he wasn’t, he’d probably complain about it.”
The chair scrapes against the floor as he darts up and goes to the counter. Plucking something saran-wrapped from a basket, he pulls out his wallet and pays.
He slides back into his seat and pushes the lemon bar toward me. “Before they run out.”
I smile and open it, splitting it in half, offering him a piece. “Eat up. I know this is your weakness.”
His lips twitches before he takes a bite, licking the powdered sugar into his mouth. Now, I really have to look away because the flutter in my stomach worries me.
“Anyway, you look beautiful tonight.Blue isyourcolor. All these guys would be lucky to catch a spark for you.” Grey swallows and glances away before piercing me with his intense stare.“Just be careful, okay?”
I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him call me beautiful before, except after I had Theo, and that was surely more out of obligation for pushing his big baby out of me.This hits differently, like he really means it.
To distract myself from the heat flooding my cheeks, I crumple the food wrap and swipe at the speed-dating flyer I brought in. White hot pain slices through my finger and I hiss.
“What happened?” Greyson asks, the groove deep between his brows.
Clutching my finger, I wince. “Papercut.”
“Here, lemme see.” He gently takes my finger as blood pools up from the deep cut. “Those hurt like a bitch.” He looks around for a napkin but the dispenser at our table is empty.
Without warning, he lifts my hand to his mouth and slides his lips over my finger. I inhale sharply as he sucks on it and slowly pulls it out, licking to soothe the ache. However, another ache within my body flares and his electric blue eyes sizzle before he realizes what he’s done.
His chair lets out a loud screech as he slides back and jumps up. Apologizing to the couple at the next table, he snags a napkin and hands it to me, his eyes wide and worried.
“Uh, I’m so sorry. That was out of line. I was only trying to help,” he stutters, plopping back down in the chair and running his hands through his hair, sending tendrils into spikes.
I press the napkin to my cut and shake my head. “It’s okay, really.” I put on my cheery voice because inside I’m quaking and confused. Before I can analyze it further, a stunning woman floats up beside him and lays a hand on his forearm.
“Greyson, a participant dropped out, and I volunteered to take her spot.Lucky you, you get to hang out with me for another three minutes.”
It didn’t register that the buzzer went off, and now I wishshewould buzz off.The only time I’ve felt comfortable the entire night has been sitting with him, even with the whole finger mouth thing I’ll have to unpack later.
Why can’t I find that comfort in anyone else?What’s wrong with me? Date after date I’ve been on since I’ve moved to Montana and none of them have made it past three.Something is always lacking and I’m thinking it’s me.Maybe my mother is right, and I’m meant to only be a career woman, not tied down to anyone.
“Oh, hey Row.” He sheepishly slides his eyes in my direction, and I arch a brow.“Uh, okay, yeah, so yep.” He pushes out from his chair and hesitates a second before leaning into me to brush a kiss on my head. “I’ll talk to you later,” he murmurs and turns away.
