Page 61 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

“Soooo…why are you drinking ginger tea?”

“I force it down when I think I might get sick. You know…with being shoved into a pond.”

His eyes narrow briefly. “Shoved is a bit extreme, wouldn’t you say?”

“Is it?” The water begins to boil, so I take it off the cradle and pour the hot water into a mug. “What would you call it?” I ask.

“I’d say we bothfellinto the pond.”

I snort and grab a second mug for Thatcher. “I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t barreled into me.”

“But you might have slammed into a tree or something worse.”

I stifle my smile as I hold out the various teas for Thatcher to choose one. Annoyingly, he picks peppermint and I’m left again to sit in the discomfort of my poor choices.

“Very well,” I say. “Wefellinto the pond. Together. Forcefully.”

I rip open my tea and dip it into the hot water while Thatcher does the same with his peppermint sachet. Already, the smell of ginger wafting out of my mug has my stomach turning.

Thatcher takes my mug and hands me his. “Don’t drink the ginger tea,” he says quietly. “I can’t stand to see you make that face for a whole beverage.”

I laugh, but I don’t fight him on the peppermint tea, taking a sip. “I didn’t realize my face was that hideous.” Then, teasing, I smack the back of my hand against Thatcher’s arm. “Maybe that’s why we’re having such a hard time matching me up with my soulmate.”

Thatcher stares into the ginger tea he traded with me. “Nothing in this world makes sense if I can’t find a match for Allie Larsen.”

The compliment hits me like an arrow to the heart. I stare at him, speechless, because there it is again. That faint feeling that Thatcher Bryant is maybe interested in me.

Is it possible that this gruff, hardened man is…is hitting on me? Or am I imagining it? All this talk of soulmates and happily ever afters has possibly infiltrated my brain. Like method acting…but instead, method investigative reporting. Yeah, that’s what’s happening here.

But then that I notice how closely we’re standing. I see the five-o’clock shadow peppering his jaw. The faint scar at his chin. And as he glances up at me from over the rim of his mug, the light catches the little flecks of gold spattered in his green eyes.

His gaze drops to my mouth once more and I inhale a sharp breath as he adds, “And your face is far from hideous. But I think you know that.”

Setting his tea down, he reaches up, gently tucking a stray hair behind my ear. The pads of his fingers are extra warm from the mug and my heart pounds so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. He leans in slowly, eyes searching mine for any hesitation.

Finding none, his lips meet mine in a soft, tentative kiss. The rush of heat and electricity is instantaneous. My eyes flutter closed as I lean into him, my free hand coming to rest on his muscular chest. The kiss deepens, his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer. I can feel the longing and desire that’s been simmering under the surface for so long finally reaching a boil.

Just then, the office door bursts open and we spring apart. Duke comes barreling in, followed closely by Griffin. “Dad, I had the best day!” Duke shouts excitedly, bounding into the office, an unstoppable force of childlike joy that swirls around the room like a mini tornado.

Thatcher clears his throat and steps away from me, though his eyes linger. I quickly busy myself, grabbing a packet of sugar and dumping it into my tea, hoping the flush in my cheeks isn’t too obvious.

“Special delivery,” Griffin announces with a theatrical flare that could brighten the gloomiest day. But his steps slow as he approaches us and Griffin gives us a knowinglook, one eyebrow raised. Thankfully, he says nothing, even though I’m sure my cheeks are ten shades of scarlet.

“Allie!” Duke shrieks in delight when he sees me and throws himself into my legs, hugging me. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

From a few feet away, Biscuit gives a little bark and I’m practically forgotten when Duke sees my dog. He slides across the floor to pet Biscuit.

“I didn’t either,” Griffin says, folding his arms. His eyes trail over my oversized T-shirt and sweatpants. “And with both of you in our spare office clothing, too.Huh.”

“It’s not how it looks,” I say quickly at the exact same time Thatcher blurts out, “There was a mishap in the park.”

“Sure, sure,” Griffin says with a playful grin.

“I fell in the pond!” I say, my voice a little too shrill. A little too loud.

“We both did,” Thatcher adds.

A moment of recognition glides over Griffin’s face. “Is that what that smell is? I figured it was the dog.”

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