Page 29 of Stolen Dreams

Light, whimsical laughter bursts from her lips as she lifts a hand to cover her mouth. “Sorry.” She continues to laugh as her neck and cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink.

I unabashedly stare at every inch of her flushed skin.

Soft. I bet her skin is so soft, so warm.

After a moment, she collects herself, her radiant smile still firmly in place. “Kid talk and keeping them in line,” she says in a teasing tone. With a subtle shake of her head, her hand falls away from her mouth. “I’ll do my best but won’t make any promises.”

My lips twitch and I bite the inside of my cheek. “Thanks.” The way this woman always makes me smile—or want to smile—she must’ve cast some hocus-pocus on me.

I lift my mug to my lips, and her eyes follow the action. Heat ripples over my skin like a skipped pebble. When I lower the mug and her gaze stays on my mouth a breath longer, I mentally groan. But it’s when those coppery-brown irises lift to mine that I lose it. Understated fire burns just beneath the surface, and I’ll be damned if I miss a single singe of that flame.

“Should’ve known it was you.”

I startle at the new, unexpected voice and look up to see Oliver Moss—a Stone Bay rock star and Tucker’s current idol—standing at our table with a loaded tray.

My brow furrows. “Sorry, what?”

Oliver grabs a bowl from the tray. “The smoked fish bowl. Only a few people order it. Should’ve known you’d be one of them.”

“Appreciate the flattery, man.” I shake my head and gesture to Kaya with my hand. “But I’m about to disappoint you.”

Bowl midway to my place mat, Oliver’s extended hand pauses as he shifts his attention to the other side of the table. “Really?” he asks, the single-word question loaded with disbelief and awe.

Kaya shrugs. “Guilty.”

Oliver sets a rice bowl piled high with smoked salmon, colorful vegetables, and a poached egg in front of her. “Huh.” His gaze darts between us a beat before he places the other dish in front of me.

I tilt my head at his blatant intrigue. “What?”

“Nothing.” He waves me off then nods to my mug. “More coffee?”

“Please.” I resist pushing him further.Another time.

“Kirsten’s making rounds. I’ll let her know.” And then he spins around and winds his way through the tables, checking in with guests on his way back to the server alley.

“He’s fascinated thatIordered the unconventional breakfast dish and not you.”

I bring my attention back to Kaya. “Yeah, I guess.” Unrolling my silverware, I set my napkin in my lap. “His tone,” I mutter as I spear a piece of potato. “Felt like he wanted to say something else.”

“He did.”

As I open my mouth to ask Kaya how she knows, a woman I’d seen several times when I worked at RJ’s with Dad sidles up to the table with a pot of coffee.

“Ollie said you need a refill.”

I nod and slide my mug toward her. “Thank you.”

Cup filled to the brim, her eyes dart between us. “Anything else you need?”

Kaya shakes her head as I say, “Good at the moment.”

A smile brightens her face. “Holler if you do.” As she turns away, the faintesthmmhits my ears.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to shout, “What’s so damn interesting?” But when I glance across the table, the humor in Kaya’s expression steals my attention.

Over breakfast, I share a little about myself, and Kaya does the same in return. I mention Tucker, and a softness takes over her features as she tells me she’s met him. As we get to know one another, I take small bites and chew slower than usual. Pause more often than necessary. Do whatever possible to drag out our time together.

Minutes feel like seconds as I squeeze in more personal questions. The restaurant fades away. The chatter around us morphs into a dull murmur. Without effort, I ignore everyone and everything except her. Absorb her every word. Bask in her charismatic aura. Get lost in her addictive copper-brown irises.

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