Page 16 of One Night Flame

Cord Gaffney stood there in a button-down the color of thunderclouds and dark jeans that fit like they’d been made just for him. One hand in his pocket. That lazy smile that was half smirk, half warm invitation.

“Hey.” His gaze moved over me, slow but not invasive, and then settled on my face again like he’d landed exactly where he meant to.

I forgot how to breathe for a second, because all I could think was,Oh no. He’s hot. Like adult hot. Grown man, ruin-your-life, this-could-be-something hot.

And I had no idea what to do with that.

“Hey,” I managed. “Right on time.”

“Figured you were the kind of woman who’d notice.” Cord smiled, and there was no teasing or judgment in the look. He glanced behind me like he was half-expecting someone else to pop out. “You ready?”

As ready as I’d ever be.

I grabbed my purse and stepped outside, locking the door behind me with a quick glance at the empty driveway. No scooter. No chalk drawings. No signs of the kid-shaped whirlwind who usually defined my evenings.

It felt weird.

Cord opened the passenger door for me—of course he did—and I slid into his truck, forcing myself to remember how to breathe like a normal human woman who’d done this before.

Spoiler: I hadn’t.

Not really.

Cord climbed in on the driver’s side and shot me a sidelong glance that made my stomach flutter.

“You look great, by the way,” he said. “Like… unfairly great. I feel underdressed just sitting next to you.”

I laughed, a startled, awkward thing that probably sounded like a duck trying to flirt. Which was better than a duck trying to fart. Oh my God, why was I thinking about duck farts? This was what came of spending my days with six-year-olds. “Please. I changed my outfit three times. You’re lucky I didn’t show up in yoga pants and regret.”

He grinned. “Honestly? That would’ve still been intimidating.”

I turned toward him, eyebrows raised. “How exactly is that intimidating?”

“I’ve seen women chase grease fires in five-inch heels and give CPR while wearing scrubs covered in Elmo stickers,” he said. “You’re all terrifying. In a good way.”

That made me laugh for real. One of those warm, involuntary bursts that loosened my shoulders and made my brain back off for a second. “You’re not so bad at this, you know.”

“At what?”

“First dates,” I said.

He glanced over as he pulled out of my driveway, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Good. I was worried I peaked during the part where your grandma bought me.”

Another laugh escaped me, and just like that, the tension that had coiled tight around my spine started to let go.

This wasn’t a setup anymore. It wasn’t a joke. It was a man I didn’t know yet. But maybe… wanted to.

Once he was behind the wheel, and we were cruising down Maple, I glanced over. “So, where are we headed?”

“Mario’s.”

I blinked. “I’ve never actually been.”

That earned me a look. “You’ve lived in Huckleberry Creek how long?”

“A year.”

“And you’ve never been to Mario’s?”

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