Chapter Twenty-Six
What the ever-loving fuck was she doing here?
Oh, yeah.
She, Sloane Renee Dell, was here to document August’s date with a woman who wasn’t her.
How had she gotten here? Could she leave? Just walk out and continue walking toward the sun until she got too close to it and melted like the Wicked Witch of the West?
Sloane blew out a breath. Okay, she was being melodramatic. That imagery made no sense.
But hell, wasn’t she a mashup of Icarus and the Wicked Witch? She’d thought she could handle hanging out with August for eight-plus hours of the day and old feelings wouldn’t come rushing back to the surface. Wasn’t she evil for using him to advance her own agenda, even if he was fully aware of said agenda and had agreed to it? Even halfway participated in it?
Was continuing to participate in it.
Oh, God. Sloane sat up straighter on her stool. None of that mattered at the moment.
She’d taken a seat at the bar because it gave her a good view of the front door. And didn’t it just.
August and Paige were right outside the restaurant. She could see them through the door’s oh-so-helpful wide-paned window. He looked better than anything she’d seen on the menu. Dark-wash jeans skimmed his powerful thighs. A lightweight red short-sleeve sweater complemented his rich brown skin and molded to his wide shoulders and muscular arms. Paige was wearing a cute dress, but whatever.
Sloane’s gaze drew inexorably back to August. Not only was he ridiculously handsome, he was also courteous, holding the door open for Paige and slowing his stride to match hers as they went up to the ma?tre d’. He hadn’t spotted her yet. Good. Maybe she could fix her face before he did. Wipe the drool off her chin.
The host led them to a table toward the back of the restaurant. Sloane settled her tab at the bar and followed at a discreet distance. She’d already informed the restaurant’s manager she was there to chronicle the date and not to be weirded out if she or the staff saw Sloane taking photos. Still, she didn’t want to be too close—for her own peace of mind and for the sake of the date. It was supposed to be real. August was going to make an honest effort. So she’d give the potentially soon-to-be happy couple their space and pretend her heart wasn’t splintering into tiny little pieces inside her chest.
And at the end of this adventure/fiasco—she couldn’t decide which was more accurate—thanks to all the successful promo, she’d get a job out of it and August and Sugar Blitz would have a successful launch of their newest location. Everyone wins. Throw some confetti. Hold a parade through downtown San Diego.
But first she had to get through this date. A stabbing pain hit her square in the chest. Sloane slammed a hand to her ribs like she could stop the ache from spreading through her entire body. Oh, my God, he was on a date . Four-letter words were truly the worst. But there was no time to freak out. She’d save that for later. She had a job to do.
Earlier, she’d scoped out a table in the opposite corner hidden behind a potted plant where she could watch through the leaves and take pics. She made her way to her hiding spot and got into position.
Sloane took a deep breath and focused on her subjects. August and Paige had settled at their table and were currently inspecting menus while they chatted. Nothing strange or noteworthy about that. She snapped a quick pic and captioned it “First-date vibes” in her notes before returning her attention to the potential soulmates.
Playing armchair psychologist wasn’t her thing, but she couldn’t help but notice their body language. Paige was doing most of the talking, which was the least surprising development ever, given August’s penchant to never speak .
He doesn’t have much trouble talking to you .
Although he wasn’t speaking, August listened attentively. Like he cared.
They weren’t encroaching on each other’s space, but they did lean toward each other. They looked good together, even if it killed her to admit it. And it damned near did.
Sloane finally gave her full attention to Paige. Dark brown curls framed her face. As befitting a social media maven, her makeup was flawless, including her fabulous smoky eye application that made her dark eyes look huge and luminous. Her dress, a cute casual red sundress, showed off toned arms and was cut low enough to tease at cleavage and make her date long to see more. A perfect first-date outfit. Damn it.
After the waiter came and took their orders, Sloane took a few more photos. Her finger, working on its own accord, lingered on the zoom as she zeroed in on August’s mouth and took a photo. She was a pervert. But his mouth was perfect. She’d only felt it twice against hers, but she still remembered how it felt in crystal-clear detail. How could a perfect mouth only get more perfect over the years? Both lips were perfectly plump, neither too thin or too big. They rounded enticingly as he formed words.
Sloane set the phone down. “Move,” she muttered to the couple who’d stopped to talk to August instead of continuing on to their own table. One of them was blocking her view. Her displeasure stemmed from the fact that she couldn’t do her job. It had nothing to do with her wanting every chance she could get to stare at August. Nope. Not at all.
Finally, the couple left. As soon as they did, the waiter returned with Paige’s and August’s orders. So did Sloane’s server. She accepted the food with a “thanks” and turned in time to see August and Paige take their first bites. Oh, happy day.
His tongue peeked out as he raised a forkful of pasta to those perfect lips. Sloane’s grip on her phone faltered as a rush of heat swamped her.
This is what her life had become. She was jealous of fettuccini and fork tines.
Get a grip, Sloane .
Paige’s hands were windmilling, and her lips were moving at a rapid pace. Whatever story she was telling had her worked up. August was giving her his full attention.
Sloane couldn’t make out any words, which was for the best. Whatever Paige was saying was enthralling. Second date coming right up. Yippee.
Sloane shook her shoulders, like that’s all it would take to rid her of the dark thoughts.
Eye on the prize. August having a good date was for the best for Sugar Blitz and for Sloane’s own goals, which did not include licking and savoring every inch of August’s body, starting with those lips, like he was a butter-pecan triple-scoop ice-cream cone.
She took a quick snap, capturing the exact moment both Paige and August were laughing, because wasn’t she awesome at her job, and added it to Sugar Blitz’s Instagram story along with a few heart-eyes emojis. Gag . Being a social media maven officially sucked. Why had she ever thought this was her calling?
She checked the stats on the story. Every addition brought more clicks. Yippee. Time to pop some champagne. But not while she was on the job. She turned away from the August and Paige Show and half-heartedly stuffed a piece of bread in her mouth and chewed by rote as she dispiritedly contemplated her life choices.
So what if it made her feel like she was on a date with August and his soulmate because she’d inadvertently ordered the same pasta dish as August? That didn’t make her pathetic. Okay, yes it did. But he had good taste. The seafood pasta was the best she’d tasted in a long time.
An odd noise cut through the low-level hum of chatter and dings of cutlery in the restaurant. It sounded almost like a…? Sloane twisted around, her mouth promptly falling to the floor. Her ears hadn’t been deceiving her. What had sounded like a sob was absolutely a sob.
And it was coming from Paige. Her hands covered her face, but she was definitely crying. Tears seeped between her fingers. Her shoulders vibrated with her every breath.
What in the world…?