Page 63 of The Secret to a Southern Wedding

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “Are you driving home tonight?”

“I planned on it.”

He shook his head. “Then no, you can’t have another one if you’re driving.”

“Well, what if you drive me home. Then can I have another one?” The words formed in her brain and flew out of her mouth before she could process their ramifications.

“I won’t be getting out of here until around one,” he said.

“I can wait. What I said was true. I kind of don’t want to be the third wheel back home.”

This wasn’t flirting. She was trying to do better and properly thank him for being nice to her the other night. That was all. She wasn’t just sitting at the bar, waiting for the sexy bartender to get off. She needed to talk to him, and she didn’t want to do it while everyone was around or force him to take a break when he was busy working. She could wait.

He watched her for several long seconds before grabbing a glass and filling it with the strawberry ale she’d been drinking. He slid the glass in front of her. “Give me your keys.”

She didn’t know why she wanted to smile so much, but she suppressed the urge as she pulled her keys out of her bag and slid them across the bar. His eyes remained glued to hers as he took them and put them into his pocket.

“You leave with me tonight,” he said firmly.

Imani’s breathing became shallow, and her heart skipped. He was just giving her a ride. Nothing else. Still, she nodded and sipped her beer before the grin tickling her mouth burst through.

twenty-four

Cyril looked down at Imani walking next to him and raised a brow. “You good?”

They were crossing Main Street toward the public parking area behind the buildings across the street. Even if he could snag a spot on Main Street, he tended to park in the lot so customers could have easier access to the bar. It was after 1:00 a.m. and the street was nearly empty. Though there were one or two other restaurants on Main Street who closed around midnight many of them closed before ten or eleven. A Couple of Beers was one of the few open until midnight and the limited crowd who’d still been there were already in their cars and on their way home.

Just like she’d done in the bar right before she’d handed over her keys, her lips lifted in a cute little half smile. “I’m good.”

“I’m just saying. You had three of those strawberry ales.”

The third she’d nursed at the bar for over an hour while she’d sat and watched him work. Even though she’d handed over her keys, there were no signs of her being drunk or unable to handle herself. He’d known that even when he’d asked for her keys. When she’d actually given them to him, he’d been surprised and a small bit pleased. No, more than a small bit. When she’d turned down Brian’s offer to take her to the dessert bar in town because she wanted to talk to him he’d felt like doing some type of victory dance.

A juvenile reaction? Maybe. But even though he knew he couldn’t get his hopes up with Imani, the part in him that was attracted to her wouldn’t let go.

“Do you want me to walk in a straight line and prove it?” she asked with a laugh.

“No need. If you say you’re good, I believe you.”

“You don’t sound like you believe me. I think you think I’m a lightweight.”

“Come on now. I never said that.”

She moved until she blocked his way in the middle of the street. She pointed a finger. “But your tone implies I am one.” She waved her hand for him to move back. “Watch. I can do it.”

“Are you seriously about to try and walk a straight line?” He raised a brow, amused by her joking with him. He much preferred her joking with him than crying. He also liked seeing her like this. Carefree and lighthearted. He didn’t know if she was like this often, but when she was occasionally like this with him, he felt good knowing she was comfortable with him.

She wagged a finger. “See, you said ‘about to try.’ I knew you didn’t believe in me.” The sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her lips made him want to reach for her and kiss her.

The streetlights played across her features. The long thin sweater she wore had an oversized neckline and constantly drooped over her shoulder, revealing a black tank top beneath. The smooth brown skin of her neck and chest had drawn his attention all night. Her pants didn’t hug her full hips, but the way the soft, loose material flowed across her curves was worse. His hands itched to cup her bottom and pull her close.

“I take your silence as proof of your guilt.”

Cyril blinked, her words breaking him out of the mesmerizing effect her smile had on him. “You want to prove it, fine. Although, for the record, I believe you.” He took several steps back.

She pointed to the double lines in the middle of the road. “You’ll believe me after I walk this line.”

“You want to walk this line. I didn’t tell you to do it.” He crossed his arms and watched her.

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