Page 193 of Game Night: Truth or Dare

“Are you okay?” Leading him to a chair I keep by the cash for older customers, he sits and drops his head in his hands.

“I’m fine. Just dying of embarrassment. Mortified to my grave. I’m not a stalker, honest.”

Everything about this guy screams sweet and romantic. Of course, he’s not a stalker, but if he’s been watching me like I watch him…

“I’m not a stalker either, but I know every day between 9 and 9:15 A.M. you place the patio chairs and tables outside—even when it’s winter and I could never understand that. You place the lunch special board last and you always wear t-shirts, which is why I asked if you work out. You have a lot of muscles.”

Ridiculously blue eyes stare at me and colour returns to his skin.

“Because it invites people in.”

“What does?”

“You asked why I put the chairs out in the winter. It’s because it invites people in. It’s a sign for them to come in without having an open sign. And people with dogs appreciate it.”

He continues to stare up at me, blue eyes blinking, and I ask the most logical question in this situation.

“Are you a dog man?”

As dumb as that question was, it puts a smile on his entire face.

“I love all animals. Dogs, horses, cats, squirrels. If it’s on four legs and furry, I’ll probably stop to talk to it.”

One side of his mouth lifts in a bashful grin.

Oh my. He’s even better up close and personal. And he loves animals?

“Do they ever talk back?”

“Ha, no. Could you imagine!? I used to have a cat when I was a teenager and it would just watch me whenever I–,” he snaps his mouth shut and the pink rushes back to his cheeks. Something tells me there’s a story there. A sexy story.

“Sounds like something you might want to tell me after a drink?”

Might as well shoot my shot here. He did bring me food, after all.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

His hand goes to his chest, and he wheezes out the words. I’m grateful he’s already sitting down.

“Uh, yes? If you’re free, I have two tickets to the party for the grand re-opening of the sugar shack on Saturday night.”

He bolts to his feet and shoots his arm out so fast I stumble backward.

“Caleb. I’d love to.”

Again, his face betrays him and I wonder if he’s just nervous. But I slide my palm next to his and make sure he holds my gaze.

“Malcolm.” His breath hitches and I bite my lip. He can’t possibly look like he does and be this innocent. Although I won’t lie, it sure feels nice to have someone swoon over me.

Not that I have much to offer, but there’s someone out there for everyone, right? Maybe mine is sweet, innocent Caleb with the bluest of eyes and the pinkest of blushes.

“I think you’re cute,” he breathes, dropping my hand like it’s a live grenade.

The bell above the door jingles announcing a customer, and our little pocket of time is broken.

“Would you like to discuss the details tomorrow?”

“I would!” he lowers his voice, “I mean, yes, I would.” Caleb stuffs his hands in his pockets and I don’t think it’s possible for me to crush any harder. He’s sexy and shy, awkward, and did I mention sexy? How do you not appreciate a man in a tight t-shirt, with a great ass, and brings you sweet things to eat?

---