Chapter 17
17
Cora followed the hostess to a cozy corner table, grateful to be tucked away from the bustle of the pub. It wasn’t a particularly crowded evening, but she still appreciated the privacy. The small alcove felt like a sanctuary, a little haven where she could enjoy her own company without distraction.
She didn’t mind dining alone but was always careful not to claim a large table when space was at a premium. Tonight, though, the intimate two-seater was perfect, and she allowed herself to relax as she slid into the chair.
Without glancing at the menu, she ordered her favorite: fish ‘n’ chips. The pub was known for its thick golden cod fried in a beer batter paired with tangy coleslaw and house-made potato chips. To her, it was a divine guilty pleasure she indulged in only on special occasions. And today was special. It was her birthday, and this was her treat to herself.
When the server brought her pale ale, Cora sipped it slowly before setting her phone on the table. With a swipe of her finger, she opened the latest book she’d been reading. The quiet hum of the pub faded into the background as she lost herself in the story.
Her meal arrived soon after, and she set the phone aside, eyes lighting up as she took in the food. The first bite was piping hot, but she didn’t care. She chewed carefully, savoring the taste. As she speared another piece of cod, a voice interrupted her focus.
“Hey, Cora.”
Startled, she jumped slightly, her fork clattering softly against the plate. She looked up to find Jeremy standing at the edge of her table, his familiar smile in place. But something was off. His smile, usually so warm and effortless, didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was subtle, but she realized she always noticed his expressions.
“Hello, Jeremy.” She offered a warm smile.
Jeremy glanced over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping the room as though searching for something or someone. He shifted on his feet, his expression unreadable, before his eyes returned to hers.
Assuming he was meeting someone, she remained quiet. She remembered his date with the woman at the restaurant in Virginia Beach and wondered if an equally beautiful and dressed-for-attention woman would walk in or perhaps had already sat just around the corner. That thought stung, but she kept her smile in place.
“Are you waiting on someone?” he asked, his gaze moving from her face down to her half-eaten meal.
She chuckled and shook her head. “No. If I was expecting someone to share my table, I certainly wouldn’t have started my meal.”
“Right,” he muttered. He glanced at the empty seat across from her, and she waited to see if he wanted something else. His demeanor was unusual for him, and she couldn’t understand the questioning expression when his brows lowered.
“You’re here… um… by yourself?” he asked.
She leaned back and focused all her attention on his face. As soon as she did so, she wondered if it was the smart thing to do, considering staring at his handsome face made all the words he’d said start to muddle together. It had been a long time since a man had made her feel senseless. Even her meal enjoyment was tempered with the desire to know what he was thinking, and she was thrilled he’d stopped to greet her. The air between them felt charged, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. It was as if he had something to say but wasn’t sure how to say it.
Shaking her head slightly, she breathed deeply, then let the air release as she grinned. “Jeremy, you are, by all accounts, an excellent detective. I am obviously the only person sitting at this table. There are no other plates here except mine. And my meal is partially eaten. You seem confused, but if you use your excellent reasoning, you will deduce what is happening.”
He snorted, and his familiar smirk sent one side of his lips quirking upward. She could not keep the smile from her lips.
“Okay, Dr. Smart-ass.” He chuckled. “I deduce that you have come in to enjoy the meal yourself. You aren’t expecting company and are not on a date.”
“Give the man a gold star,” she quipped with a laugh.
He belted his laughter, shaking his head. “And I have a feeling you prefer being alone, and by talking to me, your delicious fish ‘n’ chips are getting cold.”
Her voice softened. “I never mind talking to you, Jeremy, but you’re right. I am here by choice. I was not stood up. This is not a pity meal where I had a no-show date. This is me having a celebratory dinner that I treat myself to.”
He looked again at the seat across from her and sat. Inclining his head toward her plate, he said, “Please eat. I don’t want your food to get cold.”
She opened her mouth to ask him why he was sitting down when she had explicitly said she was there alone by choice, but he had already raised his hand, winked at the server who rushed over, and ordered the shepherd’s pie and a dark beer. “Extra tip if you can tell the cook to hustle that out.”
The server laughed, saying, “The shepherd’s pie is already cooked in a big platter. He just has to plate it, and I’ll bring it right out.”
He turned to face Cora, and she lifted her ale and shook her head.
His brows lowered again. “What?”
“Do you always get what you want by a cute smirk and a wink?”
“It’s called learn what works and make it happen.”
It was an honest answer, and she couldn’t fault him for that. But shaking her head, she grumbled, “That would never work for me, but I can see how it works very effectively for you.”
“Cora, I can promise you that if this had been a male server, all you would’ve had to do is smile at him, and they would have done anything they could to keep that smile aimed at them.”
At that pronouncement, her chin jerked back slightly. “Thank you. I think.” She tilted her head. “That was a compliment, right?”
He laughed and inclined his head toward her plate again. “Eat, eat. I don’t want your food to get cold.”
She dove in again but felt self-conscious even though Jeremy seemed perfectly satisfied watching her eat. A platter of shepherd’s pie was delivered to the table within a moment. She hadn’t minded eating alone, but eating alone with someone else at the table and not having food had made her uncomfortable. Now, with his dinner served, they both dug in.
While eating, they kept their conversation sparse, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Sharing a meal with him lifted the pressure she often felt when having a meal with others, especially with someone she didn’t know well. Frequently, groups of people whose conversations seemed to roll around her in a way that she simply listened to but didn’t participate. As she finished her meal, popping in the last crispy chip, she watched as he scraped the bottom of his plate.
He looked at her again with a furrowed brow. “You called this a celebratory meal. What are you celebrating?”
She shrugged, hesitating. It wasn’t that she minded the answer, but she minded what most people would say. She considered coming up with a lie for a few seconds, but that simply wasn’t her. She breathed deeply and said, “Today is my birthday.”
She watched his eyes widen, but before he could say anything, she lifted her hand. “Do not… and I repeat, do not make a big deal about me having dinner by myself on my birthday. I’m perfectly happy with my own company. I’m thrilled to enjoy a meal I like and celebrate my way.”
To his credit, he didn’t say anything, and while she usually didn’t feel the need to fill the silence, she continued. “I talked to my parents this morning and opened the present they sent. My coworkers know I like to keep things low-key, but they brought in a plate of brownies we could share. And I’ve been looking forward to this trip to the pub to have fish ‘n’ chips.” She waited, wondering what he would say, and was surprised to feel butterflies in her stomach.
He pushed his plate to the side, leaned forward so his forearms rested on the table, and held her gaze.
“I respect that, Cora. You’re a confident woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to do it. Even if it’s simply to enjoy a meal, even by yourself.”
His statement surprised her, and she nodded.
He leaned around, lifted his hand, and as the server returned, he said, “What’s on your dessert menu?”
“We have lemon meringue pie, coconut cake, chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream, and homemade carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.”
He looked at her and lifted a brow. “Birthday girl’s choice.”
She tried to press her lips together to prevent herself from smiling but was unsuccessful. With a wide grin, she said, “I haven’t had carrot cake with cream cheese frosting in years. My mom always made it for my birthday.”
Jeremy held her gaze for another moment, then slowly smiled. Not a smirk but a genuine smile that warmed her to her very bones. He looked at the server. “Well, there you go. We’ll have two servings of the carrot cake?—”
“Oh, wait a minute, Jeremy. I’ve seen their servings, and they’re huge!”
“We still want two servings, but we will share one here, and she can have one to take home.” He looked over and grinned. “And no argument—this is my treat.”
A few minutes later, the massive slice of moist carrot cake with the delectable cream cheese icing sat on a saucer between them. They each leaned forward, their forks dragging through the dessert. As they neared the end, he jokingly tried to stab her finger to get the last piece, and she retaliated. But he moved at the last second, and her fork actually jabbed his hand.
He jerked back, and she dropped her fork, reached over the table, and pulled his hand toward her, inspecting to see if she had drawn blood. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”
His eyes twinkled as he chuckled. “I hope you’re better with a scalpel than a fork. But don’t worry, I’m fine!”
She rolled her eyes. “I assure you that I am excellent with a scalpel.”
He looked over his shoulder again, stood, grabbed the box with the extra serving of cake, then reached down and pulled her up with their still linked hands.
“What are you doing?”
“You may be better with a scalpel, but I think I know something I can beat you in.”
“What’s that?”
He led her around toward the side of the bar, where a large dartboard was mounted. No one else was playing, and he walked over and snagged the darts.
Her stomach churned at doing something so public. “No, no, Jeremy. I’ve never played darts before. I might end up skewering someone!”
“Unless you throw it behind you, there’s nobody here to hit!” He bent to hold her gaze and held the darts out to her. “Come on, try something new.”
She hated being forced to do anything in view of anyone else, but glancing around, she found he was right. No one was sitting at the nearby tables, and the bartenders were at the far end. “Okay,” she agreed. “But you have to show me how.”
“With pleasure.” He winked as he walked behind her.
She felt his heat on her back and tried to concentrate, but when his hands landed on her hips, she sucked in a hasty breath. He bent closer, and his breath whispered past her ear.
“Understanding what your whole body is doing is important. Stand straight, and since you’re right-handed, place your right foot forward.”
She moved her right foot, determined to learn without being distracted by his nearness, but quickly realized it was impossible. “Okay, what’s next.”
“Now for holding the dart.” He moved closer, and she tried to control her breathing. “You want to use three or maybe four fingers. Not too firm. Not too loose.”
“Th… three?”
“Yeah. You want balance. Support. You want to find the exact spot where you can be accurate and hit the target every time.”
His fingers dug into her hips, and a flush moved over her body as she thought of the exact spot she would like him to hit. Cora wondered if Jeremy knew her body’s reaction to his closeness, touch, and words. But as his voice became huskier, she had a feeling he was not immune to the electricity that began to vibrate between them.
“It’s important to keep your hand steady and use your thumb and fingers together.”
“O… kay,” she managed to choke out, now thinking of what his thumb and fingers could do to her body.
“Now, stand like this,” he said, his hands on her hips, turning her slowly. “Position is important. It can make a real difference.”
Cora wished she still had her ale to wet her parched throat.
“Your legs can be slightly separated or turned sideways.”
“Oh…” she murmured. A humming throb began along her hips where his fingers touched that shot to her core, and she tried to focus on her legs holding up her weight. She didn’t want to melt into a puddle at his feet in the middle of the bar.
“Now relax the tension in your body and keep your eye on the goal. Then release and don’t forget the follow-through.”
The idea of releasing the sexual tension she felt and discovering just what Jeremy could do filled her mind to the point that she barely remembered the dart in her shaky hand. Her chest heaved as she tried to draw air into her lungs.
“You don’t have to throw with all your power,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s more about subtleness, direction, and just a light touch.”
With her breath held, she let the dart fly. It landed near the outer edge of the target, but she still hit the board and not the wall. Her eyes flew open wide, and she hopped, her body landing even closer to Jeremy’s. “Oh my God! I did it! I hit the dartboard!”
“That’s right, babe, you did!”
Joy filled her, and she laughed. His hands pressed into her hips tighter, and she twisted her head around to stare up into his face, her smile wide. “Can we do it again?”
He held her gaze, but his usual confident smirk wasn’t on his face. Instead, his blue eyes were dark, and he seemed to struggle to catch his breath as he nodded slowly. “Sweetheart, we can do it as many times as you want.”
At that moment, she had no idea if they were still talking about darts, and as she focused on breathing, her lips curled. “Good. I’d like that.”
The world had fallen away, leaving the two of them in the center of their own bubble. He leaned closer, and for a second, she was sure he would kiss her. And without hesitation, she stared at his lips, wanting them on hers more than her next breath. They inched closer until their mouths were barely apart.
“Jeremy! I thought that was you!”
They jumped apart, and she pivoted away for a second to hide the heat she knew was blooming on her cheeks. She heard his heavy sigh and smiled at the knowledge that he hated the interruption as much as she did. Turning around, she watched Hunter Simmons walk toward them, his arm resting protectively around the shoulders of his wife, Belle. Cora had worked a few cases with Hunter and knew Belle as the head nurse of the Careway Nursing Home.
But now, Jeremy’s hands were no longer on her hips, and while she smiled at the newcomers, she immediately missed his touch.