The guy she almost fell in love with.
Love. Ha. I’m completely delusional.
I shake my head and grab a glass, violently pushing open the ice container and grabbing the scoop, shoving a bunch of ice inside the glass before I fill it with water. I grab a couple of Pale Ales, a Bud Light, three chilled glasses and set them all on a tray.
My fingers are trembling and I take a deep breath. All because I just saw Gabe. I’ve lost it. Seriously, how can I let this guy rattle me like this? It should be no big deal. I can move on and so can he. He’s already going on a date with another girl—a really pretty girl—so he’s definitely moved on.
But why did he look at me like that? Act like…he still cares or something? No, more like he seemed angry and that sucks. I don’t want to feel his wrath. Yeah, I haven’t handled this situation between us in the best way but I don’t know how else to do this.
Avoiding my problems seemed like a good idea at the time.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I grab my tray and make my way back to their table. Gabe’s date watches me with assessing eyes as I hand out their drinks, then whip my notepad back out of my apron and ask if they’re ready to order.
They are. Everyone orders first, Gabe waiting to be last and when I hear him finally speak, his deep voice rumbles across my nerve endings, making my legs quake. I try not to look at him but I do. Like I can’t help myself. He’s watching me too, that same intense look he gets right before he pounces. I used to like it when he pounced. It meant he was going to jump me, kiss me senseless, take off my clothes and have his deliciously wicked way with me.
But he doesn’t look like he wants to pounce on me in the good way. More like in the, I’m so pissed at you, I’m going to take you out, extremely bad way.
Not that he wants to hurt me…jeez. My thoughts are a total jumble. I’m not making any sense anymore, if I ever really did.
I smile at all of them when Gabe finishes, gathering their menus and taking them with me as I scurry away. I place their order in the kitchen and then catch my boss’s eye.
“I need some air. Give me a couple of minutes?” I ask.
“Of course,” Barb says, waving me toward the back door that leads outside. She’s so nice. She owns the place and has been running it for years, acting as the official hostess and surveyor of…everything. I don’t know how she does it all. She has to be at least sixty-five. “Take a short break. If any of your tables need anything, I’ll cover for you.”
Relief nearly overwhelms me. “Thank you,” I say wearily as I shed my apron, hang it on the hook by the back door and head outside.
The moment I step out into the warm, breezy night air I let my shoulders sag as I hit the back of the building. I lean against the wall and stare at the ocean, shivering a little when the breeze comes at me more intensely. I hear the waves crash against the surf, see the flicker of a bonfire in the near distance and I wrap my arms around myself, warding off the sudden chill that’s come over me.
It has nothing to do with the weather either. More like it’s all about Gabe and his chilly vibe.
He hates me. And I don’t like that, though I brought it on myself. I just need to deal. He’s moved on, he’s found someone new, so I shouldn’t be all freaked out over the fact that we share a class. What does it even matter? Maybe eventually we could be…friends. That would be, um, nice. Then we could get together on occasion and have coffee. Talk about his new girlfriends all while I fantasize about being with him again. Oh, that would totally suck but I’d get over it.
Eventually.
“Lucy.”
I freeze. Close my eyes. Lord help me, now I’m fantasizing that he’s actually out here with me, calling my name. Maybe I’ve gone crazy. That could be a valid conclusion. Things have been coming at me from all sides ever since I moved to this stupid town and now I’ve finally lost my mind completely.
“Luce. Look at me.”
I hear the crunch of his shoes on the gravel walkway and I realize that I’m not hallucinating. He’s really here, standing only mere feet away from me and he doesn’t sound mad. He sounds…
Tortured.
Chancing a glance at him, I see that yep, there he is. He doesn’t look mad either. No, more like he appears…devastated. Did I do that to him? Me? Do I really matter that much?
“Luce, please. Talk to me. You owe me an explanation at least, don’t you think?”
I face him head on and he steps closer, the light that’s right next to the back door casting him in an unnatural glow. The black polo shirt he has on—rich boy clothes, of course—fits him perfectly, straining across his chest, the sleeves tight around his biceps. His hair is longer on top, shorn close on the sides and he’s wearing jeans that mold to his legs perfectly.
I’ve touched that body. I’ve had my hands and mouth and tongue over all his warm, firm skin. And he’s done the same thing to me. I shouldn’t think these types of thoughts. I should tell him to go back to his date and forget we ever saw each other.
But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I take a step toward him. Then another. And still another, until I’m standing so close I can feel his body heat radiate toward me. I rest my hands on his chest, lift up on tiptoe and press my mouth to his.
Holy shit, I’m kissing Lucy. Her soft, damp lips move with mine, the familiar taste of her sending a shot of adrenaline through my blood. That she came to me willingly instead of pushing me away is such a tangible relief I feel weak. And she feels so damn good in my arms, her mouth fused with mine, our tongues tangling, I swear my brain short circuits.