Page 103 of One Touch

“I’ll call you back,” I said and hung up.

I opened the door, the bell jingling merrily above my head.

“Hey,” Ethan said, holding out the flowers. “You, uh, probably picked up on the fact that I’m feeling a little confused right now.”

I took the bouquet. He must have gathered these flowers himself. There was honeysuckle and jasmine, as well as ox-eye daisies and scruffy dandelions. It was a little messy but very colorful. And I didn’t want to bring it up, but itwaskinda romantic.

“Those are some of the flowers you said you liked while we were walking down to the beach yesterday,” he said. “Thought they might make working in the store a little more cheerful for you today.”

I nodded, surprised by how touched I was.

“Come in,” I said, trying to regain control as I led him into the store. For some reason, out of habit, I guess, I stood behind the counter. Maybe I was trying to put some distance between us. I slipped the flowers into a coffee mug that said, “My book boyfriend is better than yours” on the front. “Macchiato?”

He smiled. “Not really a fan. But a simple coffee would be great.”

I nodded. “All right. Two simple coffees, coming up.” I was using my business voice. Why was I using my business voice?

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “A lot. Not just this morning, but in the night, too. It’s why I was so weird at breakfast. Which was fucking delicious, by the way. Did I thank you?”

I eyed the flowers suspiciously. Were they break-up flowers? “You did. Is everything okay?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out what to do. About this. About us.”

I switched on the coffee grinder, and we both stayed silent while the machine whirred and crunched beside us. “It’s okay,” I said when the machine stopped. “I get it. This was never meant to be more than a bit of fun.”

He didn’t pause. “I was wondering . . . are you free for dinner tonight? I thought maybe we could talk. Figure some things out.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What about Ava?”

“Cole said he’d pick her up and watch her again.” He paused, studying my face. “When I explained what I needed the time for, he was irritatingly accommodating.”

“Does he . . . know what’s going on with us?”

“Mmhmm. Hope you don’t mind me talking to him.”

“Course not. We all need a sounding board.”

“Right.”

Despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach, I couldn’t help but smile. “Well, yes. The answer’s yes. I’d love to have dinner with you.”

“Great,” he said, taking the coffee cup I was holding out for him. “I’ll head to yours at seven. Oh, and dress fancy. We’re heading to Goldharbor Bay.”

“Not burgers on the beach?”

“Not this time.” He looked deep into my eyes. “Oh, and by the way, this will most definitely be a date.”

***

For the rest of the workday, I had such crazy nerves that they could have hooked my jiggling leg up to a generator and powered the whole town.

It was ridiculous, really. I’d been on more dates than anyone in Bluehaven Bay. I’d done blind dates, speed dates, internet dates,and even one-time sexy hookup dates. And yet, dating Ethan McCoy, the man I already lived with, already had slept with multiple times, felt scariest of all.

For some reason, it felt like there was a lot at stake. I guess it was because we were doing things backward. If the date went badly, it would make it hard—maybe impossible—to move back to all that sex again. And if the date went well . . . If the date went well, then that was even scarier.

So of course, I planned the whole thing out. I wrote out a list of first-date questions for Ethan on the back of a receipt.

What’s your favorite car?

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