Page 22 of When the Fake Snow Falls

A humorless laugh leaves me. “Oh, I made the soup. Then I dated him for two years until he proposed.”

Chase freezes mid sip before slowly setting his glass on the table. Sitting up straight to face me head on, he gives me an incredulous look. “You didn’t.”

I’m not proud of my relationship with Greg. It was at a time in my life when I was lost and trying to figure out who I was. As it turns out, I didn’t find her until I was on my own.

He holds up both hands. “Wait, wait, wait. He proposed, and you turned him down?”

“Yup.”

He blinks. “Don’t most couples talk about getting married before it happens?”

I shrug. “He didn’t.”

He’s looking at me like he’s just unlocked some type of secret code, and it’s a little unnerving. “Why did you say no?”

Now it’s my turn to give him an incredulous look. “Because I didn’t want to marry him.”

He scrunches his nose playfully. “Were you nice about it? Did he take it hard?”

“Of course, I was nice,” I say with a laugh. What happened between Greg and me was years ago. He’s long since found a girl to marry him, and I’m pretty sure they have multiple children together.

He appraises me again with a smug look on his face.

“What?” I ask with another huff of laughter. “Don’t look at me like that.”

His smile warms. “You’re different than I thought.”

I raise an eyebrow as I bring the glass to my lips. “And how’s that?”

Wiggling his fingers in my direction, he says, “Less prickly.”

“Oh, don’t be fooled.” I give him a pointed stare. “I can be very prickly.”

His smile stretches, and it’s impossible to keep my own atbay. Nothing feels small sitting across from this man. Everything about him is significant. Like just his presence somehow makes the wine sweeter, the music better, and the atmosphere more electric.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.” He holds my gaze, like he has full intentions of getting on that side just to see what it entails.

But that look.

He looks like he’s delighted by the sheer fact I’m sitting across from him. Like nothing could make him happier than watching me sip wine. I thought I had encountered looks like this before, but now that I’m sitting here with Chase, I’m not sure. He looks like he has at least a thousand thoughts floating around in his head but reveals none of them. And I’m dying to know what they are.

“What about you?” I ask.

Something sparks in those brown eyes. “What about me?”

I gesture toward his overall physique. “This is all very put together.” I eye him shamelessly. “Neat.” A slow smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, so I keep going. “What’s it hiding? Are you secretly a hoarder? Or is your car just filled with garbage?”

His deep laugh warms my chest more than the wine, but his only other response is a swift shake of his head as he looks down at his drink on the table. His thumb wipes away some of the condensation, and he simply says, “No.”

“No to which?” I rest my chin on my hand as I stare at him, perfectly aware of the wine’s effect on me. “I might be able to look past the car, but I need to know if I’m signing up to be friends with a hoarder.”

His eyes flick upward to meet mine on the word “friends,” and his stare unnervingly pins me in place. It only lasts a second before he lifts his head and casually says, “You could be friends with a hoarder. Just don’t go to their house. But couldyou date a hoarder?” He tilts his head from side to side. “Probably not.”

I swallow hard, but manage to choke out, “All I’m saying is that this . . .”—I gesture toward him again—“is very suspicious.”

He grins. “Well, I give you full permission to scope out both my car and apartment any time you’d like.”

I’m more tempted than I should be. I doubt Chase and I will become real friends. We’ll probably stay light acquaintances that get together for drinks occasionally at best, but considering the effect he has, even that might be too much for me.

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