Page 25 of Surrender
Still, his mind started spinning—candied pecans, maybe? Or warm goat cheese, the kind that melted just enough to coat everything in creamy goodness? He could toast the croutons in garlic butter, stack it all like a tower, drizzle the vinaigrette like it was art.
He grinned, already reaching for the ingredients.
If he was going to make her a salad, he’d make her the salad.
The kind a girl didn’t forget.
Keefe stepped through the kitchen door, balancing the extra special salad—a salad he nearly dropped when he saw the woman at the bar.
Jesus. Sophie hadn’t been exaggerating.
Something hit him square in the chest. Not a jolt—more like a slow, deep ache that came out of nowhere and refused to be ignored.
She sat with the kind of stillness that drew the eye, unaware or maybe just unbothered by how she lit up the space around her. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, lifted her glass, and took a sip—casual, graceful, completely unaware that she was knocking the breath out of him.
He crossed the room on autopilot, set the plate down—and then she looked up.
Their eyes met.
And the world just… vanished.
It wasn’t just attraction. It was something else entirely. Something rare. Like a current humming in the air between them. Like the moment before lightning strikes.
Her lips parted slightly, as if she’d forgotten what she was about to say—or maybe how to breathe. She blinked once, then stilled.
She felt it too.
He could see it in her eyes—the same shock, the same wonder. The way her gaze locked with his, not in challenge, but in recognition.
And despite the city polish she wore like armor, there was something softer just beneath the surface. Something real.
It reached into him, sudden and unexpected, like a note struck deep inside his chest.
Not lust. Not even longing.
Recognition.
Like he’d been waiting for her without even knowing it.
And somehow, she had too.
Gwen blinked but didn’t look away.
She definitely hadn’t expected him—tall, broad-shouldered, with pool-blue eyes that didn’t hide a thing and didn’t miss much either.
Her polite thank-you caught in her throat.
Heat rose under her skin, blooming outward as something electric sparked between them.
Electricity and water. That’s what it felt like.
Dangerous.
Inevitable.
And just like that, Gwen McKenna—liar, polished to perfection, always in control—forgot what she’d meant to say.
Words slipped from reach, her thoughts slowing like honey in a jar.
