Page 45 of Iron Cross

The heavy bags under my eyes and ruddy skin was a bonus from simply not having time to take care of myself now that I was in my mom-hood.

If I stood out, it wasn’t because I was attractive. It was because I was fucking weird.

Out of nowhere, I sneezed, grabbing a napkin and covering my mouth just in time before anything embarrassing happened.

“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning forward as if I’d just broken a rib.

“Just a cold,” I said, wiping my nose, before bunching up the tissue to hide the slimy contents within. “You know how it is. Having a kid in daycare means that you give them your child in the morning, and in the afternoon, they hand you a biological weapon.”

He chuckled lightly, his eyes bright, as if I had just said something hilarious.

“You’re funny!” He said it as if it was a surprise.

“You don’t think women can be funny?” I narrowed my eyes, suddenly on edge.

I know that not all men are sexists, but… if there’s sexism, there’s always a man involved. So…

“No, I just think it’s tough on us mere mortals when someone as pretty and talented as you also gets blessed with a good sense of humor,” he said, that smile never wavering as his beard tilted up with his smile. “I’m feeling a bit out of my league.”

Jesus. When did I get to the Hallmark Romance part of my existence? Those damn shows, which I had started consuming since my brain had turned to mush after having a child, always talked about a handsome man coming into town and giving the female protagonist everything she needed, and more.

“Listen,” he said, scooting his chair closer to me. “I get that you’re busy and you’ve got a kid. But like I said, I’m new in town. I haven’t really clicked with anyone around here, except you. So… you know. I’d love to get to know you. No pressure, no pushiness. I just think that your paintings are really cool, and I’d love to just talk.”

“Talk?” I said skeptically.

Knowing my luck, this wasn’t a Hallmark romance. It was a Lifetime show. The handsome newcomer to a cute New England town turns out to be a serial killer.

He was definitely good looking and charming. Even with the odd eyes and crooked nose, I bet women were lining up for the pleasure of being duct taped in his trunk.

Since when in the world had a man ever been just okay withtalking? That was really fucking suspicious.

“If you’re not into anything more, no big deal.” Aaron lifted his hands, palms out towards me in a sort of surrendering gesture. “I’m not the kind of guy who thinks guys and girls can’t be friends. And I’m into slow.”

There was nothing on his face that told me he was lying. Not a twitch of the eye, or a tap of a fingertip. Not the movement of a lip, or even the lift of a chin. Based on what Blink had taught me, he’d say there were no markers of deception here.

But there was something in the words themselves that did not make sense to me.

Whowantedslow? Who didn’t want passion? What kind of romance was that?

“You’re… into… slow?” Why did his words sound ridiculously sexual? Like he was the kind of man who would edge a girl for days, until she was begging and weeping puddles on the ground?

It had to be a sex thing.There was no way a guy like that didn’t wham-bam, and thank-you-ma’am.

“Slow.” I said the word like I was tasting it for the first time. “Okay.”

He didn’t know me well. If he did, he would have known it was a dare, and I had no faith that he could do as he said he would. Books with his cover were not patient enough for a long hunt.

“Okay?” he said, his eyes instantly brightening. “Can I… get your number?”

I shook my head. That was too intimate.

His smile didn’t waver.

“Okay…” he said, looking down at his hands for a moment. “When do you open up your kiosk in the morning?”

“Well, around nine.” I wasn’t sure where this was going.

“How about at nine, I come with your coffee order and your favorite pastry. And we can just… chat. Until you get to know me.”

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