Page 39 of Fly Back to Me
I enter The Grind, nutty hints greeting me under the amber globes of light. Within five minutes, I order my cinnamon dolce latte and cinnamon roll, only to spin around and discreetly scope out the tables.
There he is.
Tucked in the same corner he sat the first time we met.
Sparks of electricity snap under my flesh when I spot one black boot propped on the windowsill. His palm cradles a cup of coffee atop the denim hugging his thigh, and I catch the red and black checkered flannel buttoned over his torso. The sleeves are cuffed up his forearms, and in his free hand, his thumb taps his phone screen.
Immediately, the voltage rapidly fizzles out underneath my skin.
This is absolutely absurd.
It’s obvious he doesn’t want to contact me. If he did, my phone would be vibrating with a text or call from him right now. I mean, he’s literally sitting here on the very device that serves to communicate with people.
This is fucking stupid, Liv.
But I didn’t come here for nothing.
Quenching my nerves with my jaw, I turn and wait for the barista to shout my order. My latte and cinnamon roll are placed on the white quartz within the next minute, and before I can cower, I surrender the reins to my body.
With my coffee cup and brown bag in one hand, I maneuver through the tables and chairs until I’m in front of Cade’s. “If you’d like company, I’m a pretty good friend.” I hold up threefingers. “Scout’s honor.”
When his eyes bounce up, they mildly hood as the barest smile graces the crook of his mouth. “I don’t doubt that. You think I’m an asshole and still bought me a coffee.”
“Or maybe I’m just a devoted pacifist when it comes to you.”
“Ouch. Am I that hostile?” he asks, his gaze lowering to his phone while sipping his coffee.
“Let’s see,” I demand, dropping the small bag on the table. “Can I sit here?”
Like clockwork, his attention snaps back to me through arched brows. I mimic his expression in a dare to shoo me away, but those blue-gray irises release the damn butterflies inside me again. Fluttering recklessly until they’re threatening to tip me over.
A breathy laugh oozes from him, head pivoting to the window as he drops his boot from the sill to pocket his phone. “Somehow, I don’t think my answer matters.”
I wag my head, my pride too precious to completely let go of. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. I won’t sit if I’m not wanted.”
Cade leans forward, lifting the coffee to his lips in his tattooed hand. “The seat is yours.”
I lower myself into the chair, my eyes meeting his as I draw a sip of my latte. The sweet and spicy blend melts inside my mouth, heating my belly in tandem with his charmed stare. “Are you working tonight?” I ask, licking my lips as I place my cup on the table.
He abandons his drink, raising his hand so that his knuckles rest on his stubbled cheek. “I’m always working,” he answers, my heart rate dashing when my gaze flicks to the metal wings around his middle finger. “But if you’re asking if I’m going to be at the brewery, then yes.”
His clarification sends my hope soaring. He didn’t have to explain any further than the first part of his response, but hiselaboration kicks my confidence into high gear.
I dig my hand into the brown bag, removing my cinnamon roll to take a bite. A tiny crumb sticks to my lip gloss, my eyes meeting his as I use my index finger to push the sweet scrap through my lips.
And just when Cade’s stare lowers to my mouth, I continue, “You look young to be a brewery owner.” Then I suck the tip of my forefinger to lick the brown sugar remnants.
Cade’s eyes shy away, his thumb aimlessly stroking his jawline with a hesitant smile. “I’m old enough.”
I’m affecting him.
I lift a brow, waving a hand as I drawl, “And you are …”
“Twenty-nine,” he answers, his gaze returning to mine. “Almost thirty.”
I playfully roll my eyes. “Not young at all to own a business.” Continuing my little show, I break off a piece of my bun, sliding the sugary dough between my lips. When my fingers retreat, I mildly suck the tiny fragments of the pastry as seamlessly as before.
Cade shifts on an inhale, grabbing his coffee as he sinks back into the built-in bench. “You should probably try cinnamon beer. Might turn you into a full-fledged enthusiast.”
