sidewalk, he inhaled fresh air, but it didn’t help. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and read Scott’s text.
Ready at 4
.
Great. He had a half hour to kill. All he wanted to do was return to his house and hibernate for the rest of the winter. If it weren’t for Scott, he’d go total hermit. Scott would be going away in the fall. Socializing would no longer be necessary. So why did the thought make Reed feel worse? It was what he wanted. Wasn’t it?
An ache nested behind his eyes.
His truck was parked across the street, but Reed headed for the small drugstore half a block away. Dark had descended while he’d been talking to Hugh. Streetlights glowed along the quaint sidewalk. He pushed into the shop. Aisles were narrow. Displays crowded customers and each other to maximize limited space. Ibuprofen was in the first aisle. Reed picked up the smallest bottle and turned toward the register.
The back of a tall redhead brought him up short. Jayne stood at the counter. In three steps he was behind her. He didn’t remember telling his feet to move. He was the
Enterprise
stuck in her tractor beam.
A fruity smell teased his nose. He moved a step closer. Strawberries. The scent triggered a sharp pang of hunger that shocked him. It wasn’t an empty-belly kind of craving. It was instinct. Pure primal instinct. The kind that drove salmon upstream and made tomcats howl in alleys.
The kind that made him want to find out what part of Jayne smelled like strawberries.
She glanced over her shoulder. Her full mouth was curved with a hint of humor. “Stalk much?”
“Honest.” Reed held up the bottle of pain reliever. “Didn’t know you were in here.”
She nodded, but something flashed in her eyes before she turned back to her transaction. Disappointment?
“That’ll be three dollars and twelve cents.” The clerk shoved a pack of gum and a strawberry-flavored lip balm into a small plastic bag. Reed’s gaze lingered on her lips. Would they taste as good as they smelled?
Jayne counted out three crumpled bills and exact change from a frayed leather wallet. She opened her purse and tossed the wallet in, along with the small bag. Reed’s gaze fixed on a folded newspaper tucked in an exterior pocket.
New York Times
. Arts & Leisure section. His vision tunneled down to the picture, and the store went from cozy to claustrophobic in the time it took to read the caption.
R. S. Morgan’s latest sculpture: Despair.
Jayne moved aside so Reed could place his item on the counter. He paid with a twenty.
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Strong muscles in his throat tightened as he swallowed. There was a sharp look in his gorgeous green eyes. Discomfort and…desire? The flutter in her belly sent Jayne’s eyes skittering away.
She zipped her purse as she considered his offer. If they stayed in a public place, what was the harm? She hadn’t felt this much giddy anticipation since tight end Bobby Day asked her to the prom. Her day had been pretty stressful. Spending some time with a man who made her pulse skip wasn’t going to make it worse. “The diner?”
Reed tilted his head toward the door. Jayne followed him out into the cold. Now that was a tight end.
He looked up and down the sidewalk, which was empty. “No. There’s a bookstore a block down that serves
good
coffee and other stuff.”
This afternoon’s diner brew had left an acidy aftertaste in Jayne’s mouth. Though coffee didn’t sound appealing, Reed’s company did. The thought surprised her more than the physical attraction that simmered between them. She hadn’t even dated since…Well, since.
Had she imagined the gleam in his eyes? Only one way to find out. “OK.”
“Walk or drive?” he asked.
“Walk.”
He snorted. “Still don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust anybody.” Jayne’s words came out more bitter than she intended.
He fell silent. Clear eyes went flat as he studied the scar on her cheek for a few seconds. “Good
Ready at 4
.
Great. He had a half hour to kill. All he wanted to do was return to his house and hibernate for the rest of the winter. If it weren’t for Scott, he’d go total hermit. Scott would be going away in the fall. Socializing would no longer be necessary. So why did the thought make Reed feel worse? It was what he wanted. Wasn’t it?
An ache nested behind his eyes.
His truck was parked across the street, but Reed headed for the small drugstore half a block away. Dark had descended while he’d been talking to Hugh. Streetlights glowed along the quaint sidewalk. He pushed into the shop. Aisles were narrow. Displays crowded customers and each other to maximize limited space. Ibuprofen was in the first aisle. Reed picked up the smallest bottle and turned toward the register.
The back of a tall redhead brought him up short. Jayne stood at the counter. In three steps he was behind her. He didn’t remember telling his feet to move. He was the
Enterprise
stuck in her tractor beam.
A fruity smell teased his nose. He moved a step closer. Strawberries. The scent triggered a sharp pang of hunger that shocked him. It wasn’t an empty-belly kind of craving. It was instinct. Pure primal instinct. The kind that drove salmon upstream and made tomcats howl in alleys.
The kind that made him want to find out what part of Jayne smelled like strawberries.
She glanced over her shoulder. Her full mouth was curved with a hint of humor. “Stalk much?”
“Honest.” Reed held up the bottle of pain reliever. “Didn’t know you were in here.”
She nodded, but something flashed in her eyes before she turned back to her transaction. Disappointment?
“That’ll be three dollars and twelve cents.” The clerk shoved a pack of gum and a strawberry-flavored lip balm into a small plastic bag. Reed’s gaze lingered on her lips. Would they taste as good as they smelled?
Jayne counted out three crumpled bills and exact change from a frayed leather wallet. She opened her purse and tossed the wallet in, along with the small bag. Reed’s gaze fixed on a folded newspaper tucked in an exterior pocket.
New York Times
. Arts & Leisure section. His vision tunneled down to the picture, and the store went from cozy to claustrophobic in the time it took to read the caption.
R. S. Morgan’s latest sculpture: Despair.
Jayne moved aside so Reed could place his item on the counter. He paid with a twenty.
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Strong muscles in his throat tightened as he swallowed. There was a sharp look in his gorgeous green eyes. Discomfort and…desire? The flutter in her belly sent Jayne’s eyes skittering away.
She zipped her purse as she considered his offer. If they stayed in a public place, what was the harm? She hadn’t felt this much giddy anticipation since tight end Bobby Day asked her to the prom. Her day had been pretty stressful. Spending some time with a man who made her pulse skip wasn’t going to make it worse. “The diner?”
Reed tilted his head toward the door. Jayne followed him out into the cold. Now that was a tight end.
He looked up and down the sidewalk, which was empty. “No. There’s a bookstore a block down that serves
good
coffee and other stuff.”
This afternoon’s diner brew had left an acidy aftertaste in Jayne’s mouth. Though coffee didn’t sound appealing, Reed’s company did. The thought surprised her more than the physical attraction that simmered between them. She hadn’t even dated since…Well, since.
Had she imagined the gleam in his eyes? Only one way to find out. “OK.”
“Walk or drive?” he asked.
“Walk.”
He snorted. “Still don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust anybody.” Jayne’s words came out more bitter than she intended.
He fell silent. Clear eyes went flat as he studied the scar on her cheek for a few seconds. “Good
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