Page 10 of Old Flame

Pepper was studying me. “You aren’t leaving because they all came in, are you? I know they look, uh”—she glanced back at them—“dangerous, I guess, but I swear they aren’t. The blond one with the brunette he won’t let go of is my brother, Micah. He’s the VP of The Judgment, and I swear to you that nothing will happen to you.”

She pointed at the gorgeous man. Damn, that family had good genes.

I shook my head. “No, that’s not it. I’m tired, and I have the interview in the morning. But this place is great. Thanks so much for your hospitality.” I scanned for the restroom sign, trying not to look in the MC’s direction.

“Restrooms are right back there, behind you,” Pepper said. “And I’m glad you stopped by. I hope we were able to provide you with some distraction. If you end up getting the job and moving here, be sure to come back and see us.”

I nodded. I’d like that, but it wouldn’t be on a night when the MC might show up. Maybe a Monday would be safe. At four in the afternoon.

“Thanks. If I do get the job, The Urban Art Canvas is less than a mile from here. Are you open for lunch?”

“That’s an art gallery, isn’t it? The sky-blue building with the round windows and the columns out front that are covered ingraffiti? And, no, we aren’t open until four, but you could always stop by after work.”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Well, good luck,” she replied. “I’ll go ring you up.”

When she was headed back toward the bar, I went in the direction she had pointed, finding the sign over the doorway that led down a short hallway with gender-neutral rooms lining it. I went to the second door on the right since it was the only one with a green light above it. The others were all red, so I assumed that meant they were in use.

Stepping into the small, private room, I exhaled and stared at myself in the mirror.

How much had I changed?

Why did I care?

I reached up and touched the smile lines trying to form. Maybe it was time to try Botox. I’d mentioned it once to Eamon, and he’d kissed each side of my mouth, telling me that I wasn’t injecting my beautiful face with poison. He’d loved me unconditionally, and not one day had I deserved him.

I took a lock of my coal-black hair and let it slide over my fingers. It hadn’t changed much. Only shorter and hitting just a few inches below my shoulders. I’d had hair to my waist back then. It wasn’t rolled or styled in any way. Just straight. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken time to do more than brush it.

I still didn’t wear much makeup. With my pale complexion, I’d always felt like I resembled a clown when I tried the new trends. Moisturizer, some powder, a little dusting of bronzer, lip gloss, and if I was trying to really dress up, I might add some eyeshadow.

Why was I doing this? It wasn’t as if I could come in here and talk myself into not feeling intimidated by the woman on Rome’s lap. I didn’t want to be. I didn’t want to care. But…I’d be lying if Isaid I hadn’t imagined seeing him again a million different times in the past eighteen years. This was not the scenario I’d thought up though. Not even in the same ballpark.

For starters, I’d been all fixed up and dressed in something much…well, sexier than this. I glanced down at the Burberry skirt, knee-high black boots, and black turtleneck I was wearing. I looked like the boring thirty-seven-year-old woman I had become. Not some sex goddess who would make Rome regret losing me.

Groaning, I shook my head and turned from the mirror to use the restroom, wash my hands, and leave.

It seemed his taste in women hadn’t changed. Just like the day he’d caused me the most excruciating pain my heart had ever experienced, she’d been my exact opposite. Blonde, massive boobs, fake lashes, lots of makeup, and clothing that barely covered anything. Except that girl had been on her knees with his cock in her mouth.

Finishing up, I tried not to look in the mirror while I washed my hands just so I wouldn’t find any more faults. Eamon had hated it whenever I would point out a flaw about myself. He’d been good for my self-esteem.

We had walked into an event only a year and a half ago that his father’s finance firm was hosting, and he’d leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me when I enter a room, knowing the woman on my arm is the most ravishing female there?”

I’d blushed. I didn’t agree with him. There were stunning women everywhere. But he’d only ever seemed to see me.

My throat thickened, and tears prickled my eyes. I had to stop thinking about all that. It would only make this day more difficult than it already was.

“It has been eighteen years. You were both still kids. Nothing alike. You have lived other lives, become different people,” Iwhispered while giving my reflection a scolding frown.

Was it fair that he was still as sexy and rugged as he had been back then? No. But whatever.

I’d found that the bad boys with the charming smiles, dirty mouths, and tattoos weren’t my type after all. He was just the grown version of what he’d started becoming back then.

Turning, I took one more deep breath before leaving the restroom. With my head down to make sure I didn’t miss the small step up in the doorway, I didn’t see if anyone was waiting in line. However, it just so happened that I didn’t need to see. The scent—a combination of tobacco, mint, and the outdoors—assailed me. I knew that your sense of smell had a memory, but in eighteen years, I hadn’t been met with this one.

Until now.

As if he’d commanded it, my head snapped up, and I almost stumbled over the raised flooring as my eyes collided with a set of pale green pools that often still starred in my dreams at night. The instant adrenaline shot at being this close to him sent my heart rate up. I wondered what my Apple watch said it was right now. Ninety beats a minute. Maybe more. Was that dangerous?

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