Page 20 of His To Erase
I cross my arms. "Nope. You’re still here, still asking and still convinced this is going somewhere."
He takes a sip of his drink, watching me over the rim of his glass. "You’d miss me if I stopped showing up."
I snort. "Like I'd miss food poisoning."
His chuckle is deep and unbothered. "Well, lucky for you, I’ll be gone for a bit. I have to go out of town for a few weeks."
I blink. Surprised. Not that he’s leaving—just that I didn’t hear about it until now. He loves talking about himself.
I school my face into relief, placing a hand dramatically over my chest. “A Christmas miracle. I knew if I prayed hard enough, the universe would answer."
Frank just shakes his head, tipping his glass in my direction. "Try not to be too heartbroken, sweetheart."
I flash him a deadpan look. "Oh, don’t worry. I plan on celebrating."
His smirk doesn’t fade. If anything, it deepens. Something a little too knowing flickers behind his eyes as he sets his drink down with an easy, practiced grace. "You enjoy it while it lasts. Because when I get back, I’m taking my girl on another date."
My girl?
I blink, a slow burn of irritation crawling up my spine.
Not because of the way he says it—like it’s fact, like this is already a done deal—but because some part of me expected it.
Of course he can’t just accept the fact that I haven’t done or said anything after our first date to lead him to believe I wanted another one. I mean, yeah I had a good time, but I’m not convinced he’s boyfriend material.
I cross my arms, tilting my head. "Bold of you to assume I’ll still be here."
He just hums, pushing up from his seat, stretching like he has all the time in the world. "Oh, you’ll be here."
The confidence in his voice grates against my nerves like he knows something I don’t. Like he’s already seen how this plays out, and he’s just waiting for me to catch up.
I huff, reaching for a glass to clean, forcing my focus anywhere but on him. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t do repeats."
Frank leans in slightly, voice dropping to something just low enough to be dangerous. "We both know that’s a lie."
My stomach tightens.
I grip the glass a little too hard, rolling my eyes. This conversation needs to be over before I start questioning things I shouldn’t. "You gonna drink that or just sit here making grand declarations about a future that doesn’t exist?"
He chuckles, standing to his full height. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."
And then, with one last cocky smirk, he downs the rest of his whiskey, sets the glass down with a deliberate slowness, and strides around the bar like he owns it.
A few heads turn as he passes—women watching him like he’s something worth chasing.Maybe he is and I’m just immune to him.
Before I can react, before I can even process what he’s about to do, he leans in. His hand brushes my waist with a light, passing touch, before he presses a slow, infuriatingly confident kiss to my cheek.
My breath catches—just for a second—before my brain catches up, and I jerk back.
He just chuckles, standing to his full height, completely unbothered by the way I glare up at him.
His eyes flick over me, satisfied, before he murmurs, "See you in a few weeks, baby."
Baby?
My fingers curl into fists, heat prickling at my skin—and not from the kiss, but from the audacity.
I hate how smoothly he says it. The bar door swings shut behind him and I exhale, trying to force my pulse back to normal.
