Page 5 of How He Got the Girl
“I figured, why buy you two hot chocolates when I can buy you four?”
She grins. “You’re really trying to make up for yesterday.”
“What can I say?” I shrug. “I try not to make a habit out of ruining a beautiful woman’s drink, let alone burning her hands.”
“I don’t make a habit of meeting strangers for hot chocolate.”
“I wouldn’t classify us as strangers.” I lean forward on my elbows and get lost in her brown eyes. They’re light, like hot chocolate with the perfect amount of milk. In a word, they’re stunning. That, plus her brown hair that falls past her shoulders in wild waves is the perfect combination—my kryptonite.
“What would you classify us as, then?” She runs her fingers through her hair.
“I’d say you’re someone I’d love to get to know.”
She dips her head as her cheeks turn the same shade of pink as the sweater she’s wearing.
I hardly know anything about this gorgeous woman—I don’t even know her name—but I do know that I want to learn everything about her, and that’s more than I’ve ever been able to say about girls in the past.
I live a fast-paced lifestyle, and I have big dreams. I’m used to meeting a lot of women in my day-to-day life, but I’ve never really invested in getting to know them when I know that I’ll be on my way to the next thing soon enough. But there’s something about this woman sitting across from me that has me wanting to cancel all my plans just to stare into her eyes and count each of the freckles that lightly dust her cheeks.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Hence why I want to get to know you. I—”
“Griffin.” A barista calls my name from the counter.
I smile. “I’ll be right back.” Pushing up from my seat, I head to the counter, carefully balancing her hot chocolate flight in one hand and my mug in the other.
I set the board of drinks in front of her and warm my hands with my own mug as I sit across from her. “Prepare to be amazed.”
She takes a small sip from each miniature mug in front of her, maintaining a poker face.
When she sets the last mug down, I lean closer. “Well, what do you think?”
She stares me down until her eyes begin to sparkle with mirth. “You were right. Nothing can beat this hot chocolate.”
I blow out a puff of air in relief and take a sip from my mug. “Which flavor is your favorite?”
“Snickerdoodle. No contest. The white chocolate with the cinnamon notes is literal perfection.”
I set my cup down and smile at her. “I’ll be right back.”
After purchasing a large mug of the snickerdoodle hot chocolate, I return to our table, setting it in front of her.
“You didn’t have to do that.” She leans forward and inhales with a soft smile on her lips. “But thank you.”
“I said I would buy you two cups—I’m only holding up my end of the bargain.”
And I want to make her happy. Being the reason this woman wears a smile on her face is my new favorite thing.
I lean back and take another sip of my drink. “You want to know something utterly devastating?” I continue before she can tell me no. “I know your car’s name but not yours.”
“Oh.” She laughs and extends her hand. “I’m Mallory.”
I take her hand—loving how it fits in mine—and give it a gentle shake. “Mallory,” I echo. The name feels fitting for her. The sound of it coming from my lips sends a shiver up my spine, a feeling I can’t shake that we were meant to meet.
Call it divine intervention. Kismet. Fate. But I know that, somehow, we were bothexactlywhere we were supposed to be yesterday.
She raises a brow. “Yourname is Mallory, too?” Her expression remains neutral, but the twitch of her mouth gives her away. Taking on a Southern accent, she says, “I don’t think this town is big enough for the both of us.”
