Page 49 of That One Heartbreak

When she went back downstairs Marley was in the hallway. He had his shoes on.

“Want a coffee before you leave?” she asked him. “To keep you alert for your drive?”

He looked at her for a moment before nodding. “Sure. Sounds good.”

It was warm in the kitchen. She opened up the back door to let the late evening breeze in, and grabbed two pods – a decaf one for her – and switched on the coffee machine.

Marley was leaning against the counter, his eyes on her. “So?”

“So what?” She turned to smile at him and their eyes connected. He’d been looking at her. The thought made her stomach feel fizzy, like she’d just swallowed a whole bottle of soda.

“So how was he?”

“My date?”

He lifted a brow. “Yeah.”

She slid the first pod into the top of the machine. “He was… not suitable.”

The machine started to hiss as the water heated up.

“Not suitable?” Marley repeated. “Not suitable for what?”

“Anything?”

He chuckled. There was a strange expression on his face.

“Is that funny?” she asked him, but she was still smiling.

“Yeah. Kinda. I was expecting more of a description. Like did he make you laugh?”

“No.”

“Cry?”

It was her turn to chuckle. “No, definitely not. He was just different. We didn’t have much in common. And he sounded like he doesn’t like kids a whole lot.”

“I thought you said he’s a teacher?” Marley said, his brows knitting.

“He is. I guess he doesn’t like dealing with them outside of school.”

“So that’s him out of the running, then.” Marley definitely looked pleased.

“I didn’t realize there was a race,” she murmured, removing the first cup and sliding the second under the spout. She poured cream into Marley’s cup and passed it to him, then turned back to the machine to grab her own coffee. This time when she turned back around, Marley was so close she bumped into him, her coffee swirling around her mug, almost spilling over the rim.

“Oh.” He didn’t move. The sheer size of him felt almost overwhelming. He was big. His body was hard. She was so aware of the smell of his cologne.

“There’s a race,” he said.

She looked up at him, her lips parted. What did he mean? There was a race for what?Her? She wasn’t exactly a prize. She was getting up the gumption to remind him of that when he puthis mug down on the counter beside her, then took hers out of her hands and placed it next to his.

Her heart was slamming against her ribcage as he leaned in even closer, sandwiching her body between his and the counter. But she didn’t feel caged in. Weirdly, she felt as free as a bird. Like she was soaring.

He reached out to cup her face. His touch was tender. Almost reverent. Her heart was racing. And slamming. Was it even tethered to the rest of her body?

“Who’s in the race?” she whispered.

A half-smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. She was mesmerized by it. Couldn’t help but reach out to touch the way his lips curled.

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