Page 28 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

“You think that’s a better choice?” he asks.

I blink, snapped out of my swoon. “Contemporary romance? Definitely. At least, for the purpose of exploring how modern-day flirting and romance can play out.” I grin up at him. “Unless you plan on wooing your future wife by waltzing in ballrooms and taking her on courtly carriage rides through the countryside.”

Will peers down at me, his eyes crinkling. I can’t tell if there’s a smile beneath that thick beard, but it feels like a win all the same.

The barista shouts our names, breaking the moment. In two long strides, Will steps into the throng of people waiting for their orders, grabbing both our drinks and pastry bags with one smooth swipe of his big hands. I manage to slip my way through the crowd, Will close behind me, until we’re finally outside, greeted by birdsong and the hum of Saturday morning traffic.

“There are some café tables across the street in the park,” I tell him. “Want to head over there?”

Will frowns down at the pigeons starting to hop around us. He doesn’t answer me.

“Will?”

“I’ll eat wherever,” he says, still watching the pigeons. “As long as these flying rats aren’t nearby.”

“Flying rats!” I gasp. “They are notflying rats. Pigeons are adorable.”

“Adorable,” he grumbles, shimmying past me as a pigeon waddles toward him.

“Will, are you…afraidof pigeons?”

“No,” he barks, before hopping back as another pigeon waddles toward him.

“Shoo!” I say to the pigeons, waving them away. They flutter upinto the air and land farther down the sidewalk. “See? All taken care of.”

Will gives me a narrow-eyed look. “I had it in hand.”

“Sure you did.” I step closer to him, smiling wide as I loop my arm through his. “Now, let’s go claim that empty table across the street. I promise, I’ll keep the pigeons at bay.”

•Eight•

Will

I’ve never done this before, outside of business at least—sat across the table from a woman besides my sisters and mother and talked with her, one-on-one.

I’ve had my share of experience with women over the years, women whoweren’tlooking for romance, who wanted physicality and nothing else. But this is different. I’m physically attracted to Juliet, and that is familiar, but…the longer I sit here, the more I feel this attraction snowballing as it rolls down the hill of minutes passing while we talk. This is how I’ve experienced attraction, and yet it isn’tjustthat. It’s more.

I find myself breathing in not just Juliet’s faint floral scent but the sound of her laugh, mingling with the warm July wind; counting every point of contact between our bodies, knees bumping under the table, her hand brushing mine as she picks up the pencil and tries her hand at my sudoku, yet the number that stands out is how many times she’s smiled since we sat down.

Six times. Each of them bigger and brighter.

“That has to be eight!” she yells, jabbing at the paper.

“You’re rushing,” I tell her. “Itcouldbe eight. You’ve got to rule out all the other numbers that could be in that box, too. You only know eight goes there when you’ve figured out nothing else does. It’s process of elimination. Takes patience.”

She chucks the pencil on the table and harrumphs. “Patience is not my strong suit.”

I set a hand over my mouth so I won’t laugh. She’s too damn cute. “Sudoku is not an ideal first-date game. Noted.”

A pigeon hops toward us, and Juliet leans off her chair, shooing it away. “At least not with me.”

Another pigeon waddles toward us, on her other side. Juliet turns and shoos that one away, too.

I grimace. “They’re surrounding us.”

Juliet turns back to me and sighs. “Yeah, they kind of are. Want to move on? Take a walk?”

I shoot out of my seat, slipping the pencil in my shirt pocket, folding the sudoku in half and stuffing it in my jeans. “Ready when you are.”

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