Page 18 of Penalty Kiss
And then there’s the bandage—just a hint of white peeking from his temple. It doesn’t stir any maternal instinct from me. No. What it sparks is a very unhelpful, very specific fantasy: me in a short skirt and a nurse’s cap, playing Florence Nightingale with benefits.
My heart does something acrobatic and entirely inappropriate. And that’s not the only part of me misbehaving.
He catches my eye across the room, and I hold my breath, too excited to meet him again. I wait for recognition to dawn. Wait for that slow, sexy smile that says he’s been thinking about me too.
Breathe, Tara. Stop vibrating. Act normal.
This is it. The moment when his eyes light with recognition and maybe a little heat. When he crosses the room and says something low and private that makes me blush and forget why running away was such a bad idea.
Instead, he winks.
Not a knowing, intimate wink. Not awe have a secretwink.A generic, charming,hey there, cute waitresswink.
He spots an empty booth by the window and slides into it, stretching his long legs into the aisle. Every female head in the place swivels toward him like sunflowers tracking the light. Even Mrs. Henderson pauses mid-sip, her sharp eyes assessing him with the calculating interest of a seasoned general surveying new terrain.
He checks his phone like I’m part of the décor.
Ouch.For real?Forget cold shoulder. That was a straight-up frostbite diss.
There’s not a flicker of recognition from him. Not a hint that ten hours ago, his tongue was in my mouth and his hands were mapping every curve I usually kept hidden.
Okay…breathe. Maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe the alley was darker than I thought. Maybe his eyes were closed, mine definitely were.
And now? He doesn’t recognize me because I’m a server in polyester, not the desperate jogger in spandex. Different setting, different girl.
Or maybe… I’m just another face in the endless parade of women who throw themselves at famous hockey players. A momentary diversion. A random alley kiss that probably didn’t even register on his radar.
The hurt is immediate. The disappointment, sharp. It's humiliation served with a side of sexual frustration I can't shake.
I feel like an idiot.
Then, he looks up from his phone, those dark eyes—warm as melted chocolate, and that devastating grin spreads across hisface. The kind that probably launches a thousand panties into orbit.
"Well, hello there." His voice is a low rumble, like warm honey poured over toast. It does things to my insides I refuse to acknowledge.
“Mind grabbing me a coffee while I wait for some friends, sweetheart? Black, two sugars.” He flashes another grin, cocky and expectant. “Make it strong.”
He leans back, stretching an arm along the booth’s backrest. His gaze sweeps over me—appreciative, lingering on the curve of my hip before snapping back to my face.
Just generic male interest, not recognition.
My smile doesn’t even waver though I want to scream. Or throw something at him and remind him exactly where those hands were last night.
His casual dismissal hits like a physical blow.Sweetheart. Not my name.
The alley kiss—the heat, the desperation, the way I practically mauled him in gratitude—might as well have happened to someone else. Or worse, it meant so little to him, it didn’t even register or he’s choosing to ignore.
Mortification washes over me, hot and acidic, followed swiftly by a surge of pure, unadulterated fury.
How dare he? How dare he kiss me likethat, make me feel things I’ve spent years locking away, and then look at me like I’m just another face in the crowd? Like I’m forgettable?
My professional smile freezes solid. Ice crystals form in my veins. Inside, the carefully constructed wall of ‘Tara Haynes’ cracks, revealing the sharp, wounded edges of Taralyn Delacroix—the girl used to being seen as an asset, a pawn, but never trulyseen. Never remembered unless it served someone else’s purpose.
“Coffee,” I repeat, my voice miraculously steady despite the tremor in my hands. “Black. Two sugars. Will that be all?”
"For now." He flashes his dimpled smile again, holding my gaze. Then something flickers across his face. A moment ofconfusion, like he's trying to place me. My heart leaps with hope.
Then he shrugs and goes back to his phone.
