Page 86 of The Score We Never Settled

“No,” he replies slowly. “The only sweet thing I like is my wife.” One of his palms rests along the edge of the countertop as he looms closer. “And I don’t drink weird coffee wannabes.”

Well, it is coffee.

Just made with espresso and a large amount of steamed milk with foam and whatever else you mix it with, but I don’t tell him that.

I can’t.

Because my mouth just dried up, and I can’t seem to snap out of it.

I went after him fine at Maple & Main, but I don’t know, right now, with him in my space, in front of the town, I feel weirdly shy and comfortable about it.

“You wanna walk me through it?” he prompts, yanking me back into reality, because he asked me a question.

“No,” I quickly reply with a clear of my throat. “I can…get it.”

“Sure?” His gaze wanders to the countertop and the multiple machines I have there. “Can’t be that hard.”

“It is when this town has standards.”

His lips coil upward. “They seem pretty happy today.” His pine green eyes flick back to me, and I fight through a flight and fight scenario in my head where this man is going to emotionally wreck me into a million pieces again. “I didn’t expect them to love that I married you so much.”

Okay, I think I want him to leave now.

I wring out my hands and try, with everything in my power, to relax. “I think they’re happy to seeyou.”

His brows knit a little bit. “Did you not hear Mrs. Warner when she said she’s expectin’ kids in the next two years?”

My chest tightens as I struggle to take a full breath of oxygen.

Kids.

Have I ever thought about it?

Absolutely.

Do I ponder and dream about it now?

Absolutely not.

Briggs has a full-blown career going. He’s at the height of his career, and I don’t want to take away from that in any capacity.

And we’re not even together like that.

“Freakin’ out?”

“No,” I quickly knock down. “That’s just…not in the cards for us.”

“Why not? You love kids.”

Briggs Kerrigan, I am not doing this with you right now.

“Can we talk about this later?” I fling back. “I need to make you that drink order.”

“You can talk and work, can’t you?”

Not when you’re in my personal space, no.

“Move,” I order with zero authority behind it. “You’re in the way.”