Page 6 of The Last Call Home
I don’t answer fast enough.Cassian doesn’t answer at all.
“Cool,” she says.“Guess I’ll just stand here with my amazing coffee and no context.”
The silence stretches too long.Long enough for Delilah pick up a rag and start wiping the counter, slow and methodical, like she needs her hands to be busy.
Cassian speaks first.Because of course he does.
“I didn’t expect to find you here today,” he says, his voice low and calm, as if he’s commenting on the weather, belonging to this town and having done this for years.
There’s no fucking way I’m responding.He was expecting me, how?I have questions, but I’m not asking them here.Not in front of Delilah, or the town.This is Birchwood Springs Gossip Central, a single word and everyone in town will know more than I’d like to share.
“So, you still not a morning person, huh?”he dares to say as if he knows me.As if we just woke up together yesterday and not so many fucking years ago.
How dare he just drop in like he’s part of the town.As if he didn’t just walk in and rearrange the entire goddamn atmosphere.
I scoff.“Didn’t expect to see you hereat all.”
He shrugs, slow and unbothered.“Guess we’re both full of surprises.”
“You’re not a surprise,” I shoot back, the words sharper than I intend.“You’re a fucking headache I haven’t had in years.”
Something crosses his face—amusement?Annoyance?Probably something close enough to entertained irritation.Who the fuck knows with him.Cassian always had a talent at revealing just enough to piss you off but never enough to explain.
“Still got that mouth on you,” he says, stepping closer.“Good to know some things haven’t changed.”
I hold my ground, jaw tight.“Yeah?You know what’s new?You in this fucking town.”
His lips curve slowly, dangerously, and infuriatingly sexy.Then he turns that smile on Delilah.“Well,” he says, “get used to it.I just moved in.”
I let out a bitter, dry laugh.“Fuck no.I’ll pack for you.”
He looks at my cup and, because he’s always been a boundary-ignoring asshole, he takes it from my hand, drinks, and licks his lips like he’s making a goddamn point.
“Still drinking mocha lattes,” he says.“So fucking predictable.”
Delilah gives him a challenging look.“You drink it, you pay for it.”
He gives her that dangerous grin.“What?No welcome-to-town freebies?”
“Not here.”
“That mouth of yours.It’s sassy.I like it,” he murmurs, gaze dragging over hers like a promise.“Trouble looks good on you.”
“Still no free coffee for you,” Delilah says, arching a brow as if she hasn’t noticed the way he’s watching her like a man who already knows how she tastes.
Cassian tips his head toward the window, that smirk curving slow and dangerous.“Shame, really.I was planning to be ...generous.”
His tongue drags across his bottom lip, slow and sinfully aware.And fuck me—I feel it.Not just the memory of it, but the ache it leaves behind.I know what that mouth can do.How he uses it like a goddamn weapon—gentle when he wants, devastating when he needs to be.
I remind myself he’s doing it on purpose, playing the game and drawing me in while pretending he’s not.He flirts with Delilah as if it’s harmless, all the while dangling every filthy promise I used to fall for.
“I don’t need your generosity,” she says, rolling her eyes, but there’s something in her voice—looser, thinner.The shimmer behind her irritation reveals her true feelings.
She hears him.Feels him.Just like I do.
I bet she’s wondering what that kind of generosity tastes like.How it sounds when it’s whispered against skin.How it feels to be stretched open by that kind of precision.
If she only knew.
