Page 51 of Spicy Ever After
I turn around and find her frowning in distraction.
“You okay?”
She blinks at me.
God, she’s so beautiful. I think I’m crushing over her frown.
“You’re not a mutant with crow’s feet,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s not what I meant.”
I step back to her, closing the distance between us, realizing she’s worried. She’s actually worried.
“Hey—” I lift my free hand, aiming to caress her cheek, but I drop it when she flinches. So I squeeze the hand I’m holding instead. “Griffin was joking around. Neither one of us thought you said that.”
But her brows only cinch tighter. “But I do that.”
“Do what?”
“Blurt things that are true but that people don’t want spoken. Say exactly what I’m thinking.”
“I like that about you.” When I smile, I notice that her focus drifts to my mouth. I like that too. “I like knowing what you’re thinking.”
She blinks in triple time, meeting my eyes again. “You do?”
“Yeah, of course.” I step in a little closer but make no move to touch her anywhere else but the hand I’m already holding. “It’s… it’s like a gift. I don’t have to guess. I know what I get from you is real. No masking.”
Hattie scoffs. “I mask all the time.” For a moment, a look of exasperation flickers over her face, there and gone in a flash, but I see it. I see the toll it must take on her to… to…
Be what others expect?
I shake my head. “I never want you to do that with me.”
She stares at me wide-eyed. The moment stretches, and then she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to that.”
“To what? Someone telling you not to mask?”
Hattie nods. “Yeah. It’s like hearing you don’t have to wear clothes.” She flings out her free hand. “Like you could peel everything off and go naked.”
The mental image of Hattie shedding her clothes has me clearing my throat and shifting my weight.
I give a slow nod. “I’d… be okay with that too.”
Her surprised laughter is like firecrackers. “You are naughty, Beck Olivier!” She shouts this to the whole park.
All I can do is laugh.
We’re only a couple of stalls from my booth, close enough for me to see Griffin shoot me an intrigued look over a customer’s head. He’s not the only one staring, and I couldn’t care less.
“C’mon.” I tug her hand gently. “Let’s get some coffee.”
Hunt’s Roasters is on the last row of the market, but the way the aroma of roasting coffee hangs in the air, I could find their stall blindfolded.
Naturally, the line is long.
Which is fine because I’m in no hurry. I want to pack as much into this morning with Hattie as I can.
“That smells really good,” she says, stepping out of line to get a glimpse of our destination.
“Best coffee I’ve ever had,” I swear. “I buy a bag from them every week.”
