4. Faye
When my phone buzzes with an incoming text, I stare at it for the longest time.
Unknown Number:
I’ll be home in twenty. Have you eaten dinner?
I knew it was Mark before I even stopped reading.
Of course, in typical Mark fashion, he’s completely thrown me off guard.
What the hell do I even make of this?
Who sends shit like this to someone they haven’t spoken to in thirty years?
I know our interaction was awkward at best the other morning, but it’s rather presumptuous that I’d be available for dinner.
Be home in twenty— Does that mean he expects me to join him?
Who does that?
After three days of no contact, the thought of seeing him again makes my stomach feel as if bulls are stampeding, rather than butterflies swarming inside me. My connection to Mark has always been intense. But this is beyond ridiculous.
I’m not some young schoolgirl talking to her first crush. I’m a grown woman, for crying out loud.
Reading through the text for what feels like the millionth time, I’m still flabbergasted.
Wait—was this even meant for me?
Surely, this type of text is meant for someone he’s familiar with. Maybe he’s got family in town or—crap, he’s seeing someone and texted me by accident?
As I stare at my phone, willing his words to make sense, another text comes through.
Unknown Number:
Either you’re busy or overanalyzing who sent you this.
A laugh rips through my body, and the tension I’d been feeling releases instantly.
Before I can respond, another text comes through.
Unknown Number:
I should have started with, “This is Mark.” I just got home, and if you’re free, I’d love to have you join me for dinner. Are French dip sandwiches still your favorite? Pop’s has the best prime rib in town. Now that we’re of age, we can legally share a beer—or hard cider in your case.
Unknown Number:
I’m standing outside your door. Should I knock or head out solo?
Sure enough, there’s a dark shadow hovering behind the stained-glass window at the top of the door. If I thought he was direct before, but this takes things to an entirely new level.
Mark certainly doesn’t mince words or waste time.
My body flushes with heat, and my gut swirls like I’m about to be hit by a category 5 hurricane. Gulping hard, I dart my eyes to the door in question, but my body’s frozen in place.
When three loud raps on the door echo through the room, my body jumps into action, and my legs finally remember their primary function.
Swinging open the door, a smile plays at my lips as I take in his large form.
Damn, he’s as gorgeous as ever.
His hair is a little longer than it was when he entered the Air Force, but it’s still got that high and tight feel to it.
What was once jet black now has a light sprinkling of gray around the temples.
His face is still square and angular, but with a few more laugh lines, and those perceptive hazel eyes drink me in entirely.
Our years apart have been kind to him.
My mouth dries as I take in his black fitted tee that shows off his broad shoulders, sculpted arms, and muscular chest.
Damn. Time has been more than good to him.
How is it possible he’s even more handsome now?
The distinct sound of his throat clearing effectively draws me out of my perusal. With a quirk of his brow and a playful smirk set on his face, he asks, “If you’re done taking inventory, can I do something I should have done the moment I saw you the other day?”
And what’s that?
Without a word, he steps forward and envelops me in one of the tightest hugs I’ve had in recent memory.
Instead of feeling awkward, Mark’s strong arms ground me.
I revel in his masculine scent. Inhaling deeply, my body relaxes, and the stress of the past three days melts away.
He smells of sandalwood, fresh air, and something that is always uniquely him.
The strong beat of his heart reminds me of how I used to claim this spot on his chest as mine. A smile tugs at my lips with the memory.
Oh, to be that young and carefree again.
Mark always was one of the best huggers I know, and I’m glad to see some things never change.
“What are you smiling at, Faye? Do I smell or something?”
A laugh escapes before I can think better of it. Patting him on the chest, I shake my head. “No, you smell just fine. Wait… How could you tell I was smiling?”
Pulling back to look him in the eye, my stomach dips when his sexy smirk forms, and his head shakes slightly.
“It’s one of your tells. Your fist clenches, and you nuzzle in further.”
“My tells? Since when do I have tells?”
“Since always,” he says on a sigh.
Rolling my eyes, I grin at his audacity. “You think you know me so well, Mark Lancaster. A lot of time has passed. You might be wrong, ya know.”
Scratching the side of his nose, he raises a brow. “Were you not smiling just now?”
Shit. He’s got me there. “Maybe.”
“So…” he draws out, “what were you thinking about, then?”
There’s no way I’m telling him how good he smells. If my memory serves me correctly, his ego won’t fit in the room if I do.
When I don’t say anything, his head cocks to the side and asks, “So, about that dinner… You interested?”
“What makes you so sure I’m free? I could have plans.”
Heat fills his hazel eyes, and my belly lights on fire with his sudden intense stare.
“You wouldn’t have been looking at me like that if you had someone special in your life.”
Well, shit, he’s got me there.
After thirty years, how can this man still have this effect on me?