Page 18 of Bittersweet

I don’t miss the way my sister glares at me. I know. She wants me to hurry the hell up and make a move. I look over at Romy again. Fuck, she's beautiful. Ever since she walked through the doors to my café, I've wanted her beneathme.

I wipe my hands on my jeans and move away from the counter. I need to talk to Romy. I can’t say everything I need to with B and Nico here, but I can’t stay away from hereither.

“Where the hell are you going?” Nicoasks.

“Shut up, idiot,” Bsays.

“Ow, ow! What the fuck, B? Let go of myballs.”

“If you ruin this for them,” my sister whispers in an angry hush, “I will personally castrate you. With a spatula. Leave Romy and Elioalone.”

I leave the two of them to their games. One day they’ll figure out that they’re attracted to one another, and God help all of humanity when my sister learns that the reason she hates him so much is because she really likes him. She’s always been a little on the mean side when it comes tomen.

Romy watches me with a sweet smile as I walk toward her and stop by the couch. I sit and lean forward with my elbows on my knees. She yawns and sits upright, setting her laptop to the side. It’s pretty unusual for her to occupy this area. She’s normally all business from the second she gets her coffee until the time sheleaves.

“Hey,” Isay.

“Hey.” Shesmiles.

Fuck. It’s brutal. Beautiful and bittersweet, all atonce.

“You okay over here? Want me to bring you a pillow?” I don’t mean for that to come out as flirtatious as itsounds.

Romy laughs. “Would you? And a blanket, too. That would begreat.”

“What’s going on with you? You have a hot date last night?” I grin because we both know she was with me, but as soon as the words are out, I regret them. What if she hooked up with someone else afterward? I don’t want to know if some other guy is keeping her up late. Then again, I don’t have the balls to ask her out so why shouldn’t some other guy be the lucky one to takeher?

“Ha! You’re funny. I didn't have a date, hot orotherwise.”

“Why is thatfunny?”

“Because,” she says breathlessly, as if she meant to laugh but caught sight of my expression and it gave her pause. There’s nothing funny about her dating anyone. Romy clears her throat. “I . . . no. I didn’t have a hot date. In order to date, you have to have someone to go outwith.”

Me. I’ll go wherever you want.Do whatever you want. God damn it. I can’t even do that because asking her out means I have to be 100 percent honest about what dating a single dad means. I have to be vulnerable and open to the idea that this stunning woman, who I’ve wanted to fuck since the first day she walked into my shop, might not be ready to take on motherhood so suddenly. Yeah, that would go over really well:“So, hey, thanks for a great first date. You wanna come home with me, do my laundry, and tell my kid to eat hervegetables?”

“Right. Well, you’ll forgive me for having trouble believing all those potential suitors aren’t forming a linesomewhere.”

“Oh, they are. They’re usually hanging around outsidewelfare.”

“Come on. A hot piece of ass likeyou?”

She gives me a coy smile, and her dimples pop out.Shit. Not the fucking dimples. They slay me everytime.

“Hot piece of ass?” Her tone is incredulous, and a littleamused.

“You’re right, that was a shitty thing tosay—”

“No. I mean, it was . . . that is . . . most women would likely slap you for that remark, but the sentiment wasnice.”

“Nice doesn’t have any place in my thoughts right now, Romy,” I say before I can stopmyself.

We share a long look, one where her eyes are wide and searching, and her mouth is open, just a fraction. She’s shocked, but I’m sure she can see the desire I’m feeling written all over my face. Her throat works as if she’s preparing to speak, but I stand before she can, and before I can say anything to further incriminate myself. It isn’t fair of me to tease either one of us like this. We’ve gotta have a talk first, one where I tell her how dating me can’t just be some casual thing, because Coco’s too perfect to risk everything for. “So, can I get you anythingelse?”

“Er . . . no. I shouldgo.”

“Right, well, I’ll see youtomorrow?”

“Always,” she whispers. My brow quirks at her weird choice of words, and she shoots to her feet, nearly tripping over the coffee table and her oversized purse in the process. I rush toward her and reach out to keep her from falling. I crush her body against mine. She stares up at me, her cheeks flushed the perfect shade of pink, and I wonder how much more I could make her blush without our clothes in theway.

---