Page 181 of Sin

Then she lifts one brow. “You’re early.”

My laugh is quiet. Rough. “No, I’m not.”

“You’ve been here at least fifteen minutes.”

“Ten.”

“Liar.”

“Twenty.”

Her mouth curves. It’s small and the sight of it nearly brings me to my knees.

I open the passenger door for her. She pauses before climbing in, looking up at me. Close enough that I can smell her perfume.

“Hi,” she says.

Such a simple word. It hits like touch.

“Hi.”

Her gaze drops to my mouth. Then back to my eyes. I feel that look everywhere. But I don’t reach for her. Not yet.

She gets into the truck, and I close the door like the smallest sound might break whatever fragile thing this is.

Dinner is at a quiet restaurant near the river. Private enough that no one looks twice at us. Public enough that this is not a secret. That matters.

I requested a corner table anyway because I’m still myself and I have no interest in strangers earning the right to watch her face.

“Corner table,” she says as we sit.

“I thought you’d prefer it.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

She studies me over the top of the menu. “You look tired.”

“So do you.”

The server comes by. We order wine neither of us touches at first and food I doubt either of us will taste. The moment we’re alone again, she folds her hands on the table.

“I read your letter.”

My throat tightens. “I know.”

“It was…” She looks down. “A lot.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes lift. “Don’t apologize for the letter.”

“I have plenty else to apologize for.”

“That’s true.”

The honesty stings, but I deserve it.