Page 35 of Fly Back to Me
I roll my eyes despite the bursting of my heart. “Zero people. I guess you just bring out the best in me.”
A breathy laugh escapes him when he dips his concentration to the box. “Lucky me.”
He gets it.
When he repeats the line I used on him last night, the warmth that was dancing along my skin transforms into a scorching heat. But my giddiness only holds my hand through this for so long. He’s not giving me much conversation to work with, and more importantly, he hasn’t batted a second glance my way.
Talk about a shot to the ego.
My chin lifts, eyes scanning the room before I say, “I hadn’t heard about your brewery until yesterday. How long have you had this?”
“A few months.”
Okay, then.
“Well, I digress from what I said last night,” I offer, my gaze landing back on him. “I’m not even a beer enthusiast, and I willingly bought a second drink.”
Cade shuts the fridge door, standing up with the empty package in hand before he turns to me. He lays his right palm on the frame of the display case, and my eyes instantly snap to the weathered metal wrapped around his middle finger.
I swallow thickly to suppress my racing pulse, terrified that I’ll give myself away. But when I yank my eyes back to him, his gaze is roaming up my legs and stomach.
A quick perusal. But a perusal, nonetheless.
We’re back in this.
“I already had my coffee for the day,” he states matter-of-factly.
Oh, Jesus, take the wheel.
“Well, I don’t know ….” I twist my free palm upward, extending the hot drink out to him in my other hand. “Give it to one of your employees or something. I’m sure they could use it after dealing with your attitude.”
Cade’s rugged jaw locks as he stares at the coffee cup forseveral seconds. His teeth barely sink into his bottom lip, but I catch it quickly when he reaches for the drink.
The cool metal of his ring grazes my skin, a jolt of electricity thrusting through my body as it does. “What do I owe you?” he asks.
My brows crease, a slanted smile flashing across my face. “Do you not know how kind gestures work?”
Short, wavy tendrils poke from the rim of his hat when he pins me with cautious eyes. “So, you went out of your way to go to The Grind? Then came here just to give me a peace offering?”
“I wouldn’t say I wentout of my way,” I emphasize before shrugging. “It’s like a five-minute trip.”
His icy-blue eyes narrow. “Tell me, do you typically barge in randomly on men you barely know?”
My face falls. “I would hardly call this barging in. I think you’re being a little dramatic, no?”
Cade casually pops a shoulder, the playfulness slowly receding from his stare. “I don’t think so.”
I chalk his remark up to his natural unfriendliness, the potential subtext spinning my nerves into overdrive. “Anyway, I hope one of your employees likes the coffee.” I’m pointing my index finger at the cup in his hand, begging this change of subject to be successful. “It’s black though. I assumed you liked your coffee to be the color of your soul,” I tease.
And for the first time, Cade shines a smile.
A genuine smile.
At me.
Oh, my heart.
“You’ll be disappointed to know I actually take it with oat milk.”
