Page 12 of Huck Frasier
“That’s private information,” I snapped, snatching it back. “What are you doing here?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Buying food. I live here. Remember?”
“Right. Obviously. That makes sense. Totally makes sense. Cool. Cool cool cool.”
“You okay?”
“Fine. Great. Emotionally stable anddefinitelynot rethinking every life choice I’ve ever made since Tunisia.”
His lips twitched. “So… lunch?”
“What?”
He nodded toward the café. “I’m starving. You owe me for the scone ambush.”
I stared at him. Heart pounding.
“I don’t date,” I blurted.
He leaned in slightly, voice low. “Good. Because this isn’t a date.”
“What is it then?”
He smiled. “Arematch.”
8
Marley
Ten months ago – Tunisia
It was supposed to be one night, but it turned into three.
The best three nights of my life.
I ordered a drink in the rooftop bar with a view of the dusty red skyline. I saw him walk in. My eyes followed him, and I knew before he sat down.
One night.
No names.
No past. No future.
Then he sat down.
Frasier.
I didn’t know his name yet. Just that he was tall, tan, broad-shouldered, and had a smile like he knew things he wasn’t going to say unless you kissed them out of him.
He asked if I was a tourist.
I lied.
He asked if I came here alone.
I lied again.
He ordered my drink without asking. Got it exactly right.
