Chapter 3 #2
She sighed as she searched for the right words.
“My ex did a number on me. We married not long after graduating high school, and not because we had to. My friends and family tried to talk me out of it, but we were in love—or so I thought. I was too young to admit I didn’t know what real love was supposed to look like.
I was ten when our dad died, so I don’t remember how he treated my mom—like she was the most precious person in the world. The same way Stefan treats Cass.
“Not only did Randy cheat on me, but he also constantly belittled me. Pulling out a chair for me? I don’t think he ever did that once. So, that’s what I meant when I said I’m not used to this.”
“Wow.” His mouth pinched in a flat line, and he shook his head.
Her nervousness grew again. Had she dumped too much on him too soon?
She was about to apologize, but stopped when he reached over and squeezed her hand.
“So, where is this douchebag? I’d love to introduce him to my fist and teach him some manners.
” He smiled again. “But seriously—well, I was serious about that, but even more so when I say not all men are like your ex. I’m certainly not.
Between my parents raising me right and the discipline instilled in me by the Coast Guard, I would never, ever belittle you, cheat on you, or not show you the utmost respect that you deserve. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”
Relief settled into her bones. “I’m sorry I stayed way too long before I finally left him, but thankfully, it’s over now. He’s not worth talking about anymore.”
“I agree.” He took a sip of his beer, keeping his other hand on hers. “So, let’s move on from our ugly pasts. Tell me more about Salem. Is it as haunted as some people say?”
She laughed, grateful for the shift to something lighter. “I’ve never seen a ghost or anything paranormal, but there are a bunch of different companies that run ghost tours.”
“I love ghost tours!”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “Okay, so I’ve never seen anything paranormal in person, either—although I love watching those shows on the Travel Channel.
Don’t judge me,” he added with a wink, which caused her to giggle.
“But I love history, and those tours take you back to another era without all the fancy technology we have today.”
“I love those shows too, so no judgment here.” She tilted her head, playing it cool, even as his words sent a flutter through her chest.
He was charming without trying too hard, and she liked how easily he pulled her into the moment.
Without warning, it was as if the rest of the world—the chatter, the clinking of glasses, the hum of voices—faded away completely.
All that mattered was the space between them, charged and alive, as if they were the only two people left in the room.
He ran his pointer finger over the back of her hand and wrist, in slow, sensual, random shapes, sending goose bumps up her arm and tingles down her spine.
The warmth emanating from his body, combined with the gentle touch of his finger still stroking her skin, was like a slow-burning current curling through her veins, making it hard to think of anything but him.
His cologne reminded her of leather and musk, laced with the fresh, earthy scent of a forest at dawn.
And God, he was easy to look at. Her gaze stayed locked on him, every detail of his ruggedly handsome face pulling her in—his firm, chiseled jaw, the curve of his mouth, and the way his eyes twinkled when he spoke.
They’d only met a few hours ago, but she knew deep in her heart that something magical was already growing between them—a subtle, undeniable spark in every look and a smile that hinted at something more intense to come.
Only her fifth sense hadn’t become acquainted with him—yet.
She knew his scent, the sound of his voice, the feel of his touch, and the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the room.
But taste? That remained a mystery. One she was suddenly, achingly aware of.
She wondered what he tasted like—if the heat in his gaze translated into something just as addictive on her lips.
Her heart pounded, and she took a quick sip of her drink to moisten her suddenly parched mouth.
Before she had a chance to come up with another topic, three men approached the table, two of them reaching out to shake Josh’s hand and offering easy, familiar greetings.
She vaguely recognized the third man from when she visited her sister last year, but couldn’t place his name.
Thankfully, he reintroduced himself as Doyle Peters, sparing her the awkwardness of pretending she remembered.
All three were in the Coast Guard with Josh.
What amused her most was how they all called him Chief—not Josh, not his last name, just Chief—like it was a title everyone respected without question.
No one else at the table was referred to by rank, and the casual reverence in their voices didn’t go unnoticed.
The men lingered for a while, trading jokes and easy banter, drawing her into the mix, before others drifted in to take their place. Conversations shifted quickly from one topic to the next. Laughter came in steady waves, and Chris found herself genuinely enjoying the night.
Still, as much fun as it was… she couldn’t help glancing toward Josh now and then, wishing the two of them could slip away and pick up where they left off—just the two of them, no crowd, no distractions.
And as his fingers brushed hers under the table, lingering just long enough to send a message, she started to believe he might be thinking the same thing.