Page 24 of Love Like Lightning

I whip my head around and find Henry jogging over to me.

The instinct to scurry away and disappear erupts out of nowhere. It scares me a little at how comfortable I am around him. It’s innate and based on so little that it feels impossible. How do I reconcile that I barely know him but feel like I do? What do I do with that? I take a small step back, not quite ready for another Henry interaction.

And yet I’m already smiling…

What is wrong with me?

“Hi, Henry. How are you?”

“I’m amazing. Just on my way to grab dinner. Do you want to join?”

“Uh, I don’t think so.” Of course the moment the words leave my mouth, my body completely betrays me. My stomach growls loudly enough that there’s no chance I can deny my hunger.

“You sure? My treat.” He whips out his megawatt charming grin, and I don’t think I can say no.

Against my better judgment, sharing a meal with him actually sounds really nice. “I guess dinner would be nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure, why not? I’ve been trying to figure out where I should grab food.”

“What’re you in the mood for?” He quirks an eyebrow and steps into my space to allow the two people walking toward us to pass.

The question is clearly meant to be innocent, but something about his delivery has the need that’s been ever present since we slept together curling low in my stomach.

This is why I shouldn’t be getting dinner with him. This is why I should be steering clear altogether. I’m here for a job, and there’s no reason for me to get into some kind of entanglement with a local.

Even if he’s the nicest man I’ve ever met and also the best sex I’ve ever had.

Those things actually make my commitment to not dating or doing anything with him more important.

It would be so simple to fall into something with him. I just know it. Have a little fun, have some good sex while I’m in town working.

But no. It’s not in the cards. It’s not happening.

I just have to get through dinner, and after that I can try to avoid him. I can just stay in my room at the bed and breakfast most of the time. Which, because most of my work can be done on a computer, is doable but potentially miserable. “I’m game for anything,” I say.

His face lights up like the Fourth of July, and I cringe internally, thinking he’s going to steer this conversation somewhere sexual.

It’s what most other guys I’ve known would do. It’s like a knee-jerk reaction for them. It’s also annoying when you never intended the conversation to be anywhere near sexual in nature.

When he doesn’t, I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Let’s head to Daisy’s. Their Thursday special is incredible.” He sweeps his hand in front of him, and we start off in the direction of the diner.

We’re only a few blocks away, and neither of us seems to need to fill in the quiet with small talk. I try to focus on the feel of the sidewalk under my thin flats and the brisk wind that’s cutting through my coat. Anything that’s not the brush of Henry’s arm against mine or the subtle scent of spice that always seems to cling to him.

But with every deep breath I take of the clean, fresh air, I draw in his scent. It’s intoxicating. And every step I take, I gravitate closer and closer to him as if there’s an invisible pull I can’t fight.

Luckily for me, we’re finally in front of Daisy’s Diner. Henry reaches around me, pulling the door open and waiting for me to walk ahead.

The tinkling of the small bell on the door rings around us as I step into the diner and somehow back in time. One step inside and I remember exactly why I loved this place so much.

It’s the classic black and white checked floor, the antique jukebox in the corner playing Brown-Eyed Girl, the bright red stools at the counter, and the booths where people are having their meals.

And I’d be lying if I said the smell of fried foods and pancakes and bacon doesn’t completely reel me in.

“Where do you want to sit?” Henry places a hand softly at the small of my back and despite how thick my jacket is, my skin tingles under his touch.

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