Page 17 of Gone for You

He chews on his bottom lip and I can see he’s fighting back emotion. I want to get out of my chair, go sit on his lap and make the pain go away. It’s so heartbreaking. Then he wipes his eyes and I can’t take it any longer.

As soon as I’m situated on the chair next to him, I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck. We barely know each other but it feels so very right to comfort him.

We sit together for several minutes, neither of us seeming to be in a rush to separate. But we’re in the middle of a diner and no doubt people are wondering what the world is going on. I’m just about to move when he shifts. His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me onto his lap, squeezing me tightly. I wonder if he feels this. The undeniable connection that pulses between us. I look at him closely, my gaze tracing his sexy face, I reach up, cup his neck, letting my thumb follow the strong line of his jaw. His fingers flex against my soft curves. Something passes between us as we stare into each other’s eyes. It’s intense and a bit overwhelming. My heart is beating wildly in my chest.

“As much as I love having you in my lap, and Ireally,really do like having you here, I can’t be held responsible for my next actions if we don’t move.”

I shudder, thinking I might want every one of those actions he’swarning meof.

“Not helping,” he growls when I shift on his lap.

“Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh.” He pats me on the butt. “Thank you, Liv. For listening and knowing what I needed and not looking at me like a weirdo when I got choked up. But, up you go. Back to your chair. You’re tempting enough with the table between us.”

I giggle and obey, moving back to my seat.

“Man, this date got heavy fast.”

“Is that what this is?” I ask him, joking. Testing. Gah, I’m being such agirl. Wanting affirmation from the guy I’m seriously crushing on but I just can’t help it.

“Our first date? Yes.”

I blush and he winks. I really didn’t need him adding in a sexy wink. I was already attracted to him enough as it was. “Okay, so tell me. How long have you owned The Flying Goat?”

“I bought The Goat about four years ago. I worked there through college. After graduation, I thought I’d try to have arespectable,” he uses finger quotes around the word respectable making me laugh, “job in an office. You know, the whole nine to five thing. I was slowly dying. When the opportunity came up to buy it, I jumped at the chance.”

“I can’t picture you sitting behind a desk every day.” It’s a truth I don’t understand how I know so strongly, but I do.

“Like I said, I was dying a little every day. I was working in a marketing department for a big corporation, and it just wasn’t me. I like not knowing what to expect my day to be like every day, being on my feet and moving around, meeting new people.” He says the last one with a nod in my direction and wide smile, sliding his hand across the table.

I raise my right eyebrow and don’t give him my hand. “You meet a lot of new people, huh?”

“Mm hmm. All sorts of ‘em. But just so you know, so you can stop whatever line of thinking that’s rolling through that gorgeous head of yours, you’re not one of many. I don’t meet women at my bar and ask them to breakfast. I’m not a saint and a few of my nights have been spent with someone for only that — a night. But this?” His hand inches closer, our fingertips brushing much like they did last night at The Flying Goat. “It’s different. I felt it the moment you walked up to my bar. We don’t know each other but that’s what I’m trying to change. You don’t have reason to trust me. Yet. But when I tell you that’s not who I am, you need to believe me.”

“How do you know that’s what I was thinking?”

“Because you have an expressive face to anyone paying the least bit of attention.” His fingers thread through mine, playing with the creases between each. He played with my fingers last night, too. It felt more intimate than simple hand holding at the time, just like it does now.

“And you’re paying attention?”

“Damn right I am.”

Amber drops off three Styrofoam containers and with the hand not holding mine, Ethan moves them out of our way.

“What is the other nickname?”

I pop a grape into my mouth, the juice explodes as I bite down, chew, swallow then breathe out a laugh. “You’re freaking relentless.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Always?”

He shakes his head, dimple showing. “Special occasion.” I raise my eyebrows, hoping he’ll elaborate. Finally, he adds, “I’m only relentless when it matters. When it’s something I really want to know more about, that is. And in case it wasn’t clear, Liv, I want to know more about you. You fascinate me and it’s not just because you’re beautiful.”

The air whooshes out of my lungs. “I want to know more about you, too.” I admit.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he kids.

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