Page 10 of Where It Begins

“No. I just need to get back to work. I have a meeting this afternoon.” At two, so I have oodles of time, but I’m freaking out.

We reach the crosswalk, but before I can press the button Sidney steps in front of me. “What just happened?” His voice is soft, eyes too. “It seemed like things were going well until I told you what I do for a living and now you’re bolting.”

I’m all discombobulated, and when that happens, sometimes my mouth works independently of my brain. “My daughter’s father was a professional hockey player, and she has no idea, and I don’t plan to tell her unless it’s absolutely necessary because he’s a douche canoe and I don’t want him in our lives.” I slap a hand over my mouth. “Oh my God, if you can just erase those words from your brain that would be great.” I glance toward the street. The crosswalk is counting down from twenty. “Thank you for the coffee. You’re kind and nice and really, really attractive, but this feels like six degrees of separation and I’m clearly a hot mess. You don’t want to date me.”

He cocks his head, a wry grin turning up the corner of his mouth. “I don’t?”

I shake my head. “I’m a lot to deal with on a good day, and this verbal diarrhea stuff happens more than I’d like.” I need to stop talking.

There are ten seconds left on the crosswalk. Nine. Eight…

I bite my lips together and make another terrible decision to distract Sidney and to keep myself from spewing more nonsense. I grab his tie and push up on my toes, mashing my lips against his.

For a moment, he stands there, unmoving and unresponsive. And then his palm settles on my lower back and he pulls me against him, the front of our bodies flush. His hand slides upwards, between my shoulder blades and then under my hair, gently cupping the back of my head as he angles his and parts his lips.

I do the same and his tongue slides against mine.

And I completely forget that this was supposed to be a distraction tactic. I release his tie and run my hand over his firm chest and grip his shoulder. I’m still holding my coffee in the other hand, which isn’t the most convenient, but it’s half full and dropping it so I can wrap myself fully around this man is both wasteful and littering. So, I keep holding it with one hand and him with the other.

Heat slams through my veins and desire makes everything below the waist tingle. I suck his bottom lip and he makes a low sound in the back of his throat when I follow with teeth.

The sound of horns blaring and someone calling out, “Get a room!” as they pass reminds me we’re on the sidewalk, across the street from my work.

I pull away and consider running across the street, but apparently, we’ve been making out so long the light has changed again.

I open my mouth, but for once, no words come out.

“I disagree.” Sidney’s eyes are hooded, and his gaze lingers on my lips.

“With what?”

“You said I don’t want to date you. And I disagree. I would very much like to see you again.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He arches a brow.

“Yes. Why?”

“Because judging from that kiss, we have chemistry. Because you’re honest and beautiful and I find you endlessly intriguing. I’m sorry your daughter’s father is a douche canoe, and that it’s better for you to keep him out of your life, but I’d hate for that one bad experience to be the reason you don’t say yes to another date with me.” He takes my hand and raises it to his lips. They’re soft and warm as they brush across my knuckles, and the contact sends another bolt of lust rocketing through my body. “Have dinner with me on Friday night.”

I bite my lip.

“Think about it. You have my number. Text if you want to take a chance on me.” He nods toward the crosswalk. “You can escape now. I hope I hear from you.”

CHAPTERFOUR

THE WAIT

Sidney

I wanted Skye to say yes right away. I’d hoped she would, especially after she laid that kiss on me. But based on her shocked expression, she hadn’t expected the spark that flared between us.

She’d blinked up at me, muttered a thanks and a sorry and rushed across the street, almost tripping on the curb when she stole one last look over her shoulder before she was swallowed by the crowd.

It’s been forty-eight hours.

I haven’t gone back to the café.

---