Page 3 of Until Then

“Hmm,” he says. “Looks like it might’ve been a tie.”

My stomach swoops. He’s flirting. And half-holding my hand. Part of me wants to run, the other part wants to step a little closer.

I take too much pleasure in the way his brows arch higher when I squeeze his fingers. One slight tilt to my head causes my long, red braid to fall off my shoulder. “Well, obviously we’ll need to have a tie breaker before this gets resolved.”

His grin widens. “Agreed. Whoever has the best reasons to take scone. It means we need to confess what happened today to send us both on a scone binger. I’ll go first. These scones taste just like something my grandma used to make and she passed away yesterday, so . . .”

I swallow. All at once my scumbag fiancé doesn’t seem as drastic. I’d be devastated if my Nan passed. “Oh. You . . . you take it then.”

I slowly ease my hand away, but he tightens his grip around my fingers. “Sorry, I can’t. Gram would kill me and toss me into the Bayou if she knew I faked her death again.”

I let out a gasp of surprise. “You faked your grandma’s demise for a scone?”

He pops one shoulder. “I had a really,reallybad craving.”

I don’t know if this is a red flag for lying about something so dreary, or a green flag that he fessed up straightaway.

I’ll settle on beige. He’s a man who knows what he wants and toes the line of morally gray to get it, but at least he’s honest.

I shake my head. “I’m probably going to regret this, but why don’t we split it?”

For a moment he doesn’t speak, then he carefully lifts the lid off the tray. “Deal. But only if you sit with me.”

This is happening. A sexy man is asking me on an impromptu date. I ought to be wise and remember I was here mourning the loss of my relationship, but Greer’s squawking voice is blaring in my skull to live like the world will spin off its axis in the morning.

She’s dramatic.

“Deal. You pay since you lied about dead grandmas, and I’ll wait for your apology at the table.” I step back, slightly concerned he’s going to take the scone and beeline it out of the café.

He doesn’t, merely smiles and lifts his sunglasses to rest on the top of his head. I’m captivated all over again. He has one brilliant brown eye and one that’s soft blue.

“Fair enough. You make the rules.”

“I’m liking you more already.” I spin on my heel and stride back toward my table in the corner, only pausing to look over myshoulder. “Hope you’re looking forward to groveling and giving me all the blueberries.”

He picks up the scone, a look in his unique eyes like he knows something I don’t. All he says before he steps to the cash register is, “Until then.”

TWO

Noah

“All the blueberries.” I nudge a small plate over to Hayley.

Hayley Last Name Unknown. Equine therapist and scone enthusiast who enjoys a nice cozy romance on an overcast day.

That’s all I know about her—oh, except the reason she’s here for my favorite scone. Turns out her douche of a fiancé got caught with his pants down with Red Valentine, a social media model who loves to love.

I’ve met Red twice at different events. She’s not a bad person, and if she’d known the idiot was engaged, Red would never have given him the time of day.

Of course, I don’t share with Hayley I know the other woman who spent a night with her ex. It would give up that I run in the same circles as the Hollywood types. Then, no doubt, my good luck of going unrecognized might shatter.

“You deserve the blueberries,” I repeat. “Sounds like you barely survived a complete maniac. If he could cheat on you, he’s not right in the head.”

The last half spilled out like vomit. It’s a thing my twin brother, Rees, loves to bring up. Rambling Noah. My thoughts move faster than my tongue, and I speak before I think.

Hayley’s cheeks flush in a bit of pink that deepens her freckles. “Well, thank you. That’s sweet. I’m not a model, though.” She makes a gesture to the brown espresso stain on her white T-Shirt.

“I don’t believe you.”

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