7. Chapter 7
Cate
Ialmost turned around three times on the walk from my car to The Scot whipped cream, pink foam, sweetness cut with something sharp. His whiskey glowed amber in the low light.
“To coincidences,” he said, lifting his glass.
Not a date.
Not a date.
Not a…
I clinked my glass against his anyway. “To temporary bad decisions.”
We drank.
The sharp buzz of alcohol slid under my skin in a slow, pleasant wave. Not enough to make me reckless. Just enough to loosen all the places that had gone tight from worrying about this.
“So,” he said, “what do you do for fun when you’re not rescuing helpless men from flat-pack furniture?”
“Dancing,” I said immediately. “Going to clubs. Loud music. Lights. Sweaty strangers.”
His mouth quirked. “That fits.”
“Fits what?”
“The way you move when you’re nervous,” he said. “Like your body’s itching to do something bigger than sitting still.”
I stared. “You noticed that?”
“Hard not to.”
I told myself the warmth in my chest was from the alcohol. Not him seeing me so clearly.
“What about you?” I asked. “Besides rescuing damsels in distress?”
He smiled, glancing down. “Hiking. Designing. Building things. Keeping Baby from eating my socks.”
“Full-time job?”
“Basically.”
“And you’re not a serial killer because…?”
He laughed, delighted. “Is that your way of asking if I’m normal?”
“I’m just saying,” I replied, twirling my straw, “meeting a man from a haunted house in a dark corner of his favorite bar feels like a reasonable time to ask.”
He leaned back, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Do you always assume the worst about people, or just men you meet while running for your life?”
“Just men,” I said. “The rest of the world, I’m fairly neutral on.”
“And men get… what? Probation?”
“Men,” I said lightly, “get one night.”
His eyes sharpened. “One night?”
I shrugged. “Keeps things simple.”
He didn’t look away. “Is that what you want with me?”
My throat went dry.
Yes, my body said. Obviously. Right now, preferably.
No, something quieter inside argued. Not just that. Not with him.
“I haven’t decided,” I said instead.
“That’s okay,” he replied gently. “We can go at your pace.”
My pace. No one ever offered that.
I took a drink so I wouldn’t have to respond.
“John!”
The shout came from the other side of the bar. I turned to see a tall guy weaving through the tables, blonde hair sticking up like he’d styled it with his hands
“That’s Seth,” John said, sipping his beer.
“As advertised,” I murmured.
Seth headed straight for the bar, slapped the counter like he was summoning a genie, and ordered something on tap without even looking at the choices.
When the bartender handed it over, he downed a third of it in one go, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and nodded to himself like he'd just accomplished something noble.
John winced. “He’s… a lot when he first arrives.”
“A lot how?” I asked.
John only gave me a tired, affectionate smile. “You’ll see.”
Seth didn’t see us yet and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be here when he did. I stood from the booth. “Bathroom. Don’t move. I need to know where to find you again.”
“Yes, ma’am,” John said, hand over his heart like he was making a solemn oath.
The hallway to the bathrooms was narrow and dim, the kind of corridor where you either apologized for brushing someone’s arm, or pretended it didn’t happen. I fixed my hair in the spotted mirror, reapplied a little gloss, and reminded myself for the seventeenth time that this was not a date.
On my way back out, I pushed open the door, and immediately collided with someone.
A hand caught my elbow before I could stumble.
“Whoa, careful,” a warm voice said. “Hallway sneak attack.”
It was Seth. Of course it was…
Up close, he had an easy grin, trouble written all over him, and the energy of a man who had spent a lot of money on things that lit up, beeped, or came with limited-edition packaging.
“Sorry,” I said, stepping aside.
“Don’t be. It’s not every day I almost get taken out by a pretty girl in a hallway.” He leaned in slightly, like he could charm me by osmosis.
I raised a brow. “Is this your opening line or your backup line?”
His grin widened. “I’ve got better ones if you’re staying.”
“Tempting,” I said dryly, “but I’m actually…”
“Hey!”
John’s voice cut through the noise. I glanced toward our booth. He was standing, one hand on the back of the seat, watching us.
Something in his posture had gone still and sharp.
Seth followed my gaze. “You with him?” he asked, jerking his chin in John’s direction.
My lips twitched. “Maybe.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “Great. Fantastic. I literally just hit on my best friend’s possible future wife. He’s going to have a field day with this.”
I froze. “Future what?”
Seth perked up instantly. “Oh, right, you’re new. Fun. I’m Seth.”
He stuck out his hand. I shook it because refusing felt like it would cause more chaos.
From the booth, John yelled, “Seth! Stop traumatizing people!”
Seth pointed at him like, see? This is what I deal with, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Don’t tell him I hit on you. He’ll say it was predictable. And rude. And that he warned you.”
“You’re doing a great job selling yourself as a person worth knowing,” I deadpanned.
He grinned wider. “You should see me with a controller in my hand.”
“Please don’t ever say that to a woman again.”
“Noted,” he winked. Actually winked…
He gestured toward the booth. “Come on. Let’s go pretend you didn’t reject me in a hallway.”
“I didn’t…”
But he was already walking.
When we reached the table, Seth slid into the seat opposite John and said, loudly, “Hey buddy, I met your girl.”
John choked on his drink. “She’s not…”
“I know, I know,” Seth cut in. “She’s not your girl. Yet.”
I covered my face with both hands.
John kicked him under the table. “Stop.”
Seth winked at me. “I’ll behave. Maybe.”
Seth stole one of John’s fries. “So,” he said, talking around it, “how long have you two been… whatever this is?”
John groaned. “We met last night.”
Seth’s eyebrows shot up. “And you convinced her to come here anyway? Damn, man, she likes you.”
“I do not,” I said automatically.
Seth spread his hands like he was laying out evidence on a table.
“You showed up at a bar, alone, to meet a man you barely know, in a town where men don’t even text back. That’s interest, sweetheart.”
I stole a fry and aimed it at his forehead.
He dodged. “See? She likes me too.”
John reached over and gently lowered my hand. “Please don’t throw food at him. That’s learned behavior, and he doesn’t need encouragement.”
I rolled my eyes, but my heart thudded a little harder beneath my ribs. His hand had been warm against mine. Steady, and easy. Like touching me was natural.
Seth noticed. Of course he did. He whistled low. “Anyway, I’m gonna grab darts before those college kids snag ’em. Try not to flirt too aggressively while I’m gone.”
“I’m not flirting,” I hissed.
John smiled into his drink. “You kind of are.”
“I absolutely am not.”
He tipped his head and gave me a slow once-over. Not sleazy, just observant. Curious. Like I was a puzzle he wanted to spend an entire afternoon putting together.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Then I’m the one flirting.”
My stomach dropped straight into my knees.
He didn’t look away, didn't fidget, didn't back down. He just waited… warm and calm and devastating.
I swallowed hard. “Why?”
He blinked, surprised by the question. Then leaned forward, elbows on the table, forearms brushing the wood.
“Because you’re interesting.”
“I’m not,” I said too quickly.
“You are,” he countered gently. “And because I like the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “I don’t…”
“You do.”
His smile deepened. “Don’t worry. I look at you too.”
Oh God.
My entire body buzzed, a slow warm hum under my skin.
I needed a distraction, something, anything…
And then Seth popped back up like a caffeinated jack-in-the-box.
“Okay, lovebirds, time for darts. Winner buys the next round; loser gets mocked publicly for at least three business days.”
John sighed. “You see what I put up with?”
Darts happened. Chaos followed. Seth talked too much. John laughed more than he tried to stop him. I was terrible at darts. John stood behind me, guiding my hand, his voice low and steady, his presence grounding in a way that made my knees forget how to work.
At the end of the last round, we were suddenly close. Too close.
His eyes dipped to my mouth. Just for a second.
“Cate,” he said softly.
I didn’t step back.
His fingers brushed my wrist, barely there, and my entire body lit up.
“This isn’t…” I whispered. “I don’t normally…”
“Me neither,” he said.
For one suspended moment, the bar fell away.
Then…
Seth crashed into the booth. “JOHN! I beat a college kid at darts with my eyes closed!”
The spell broke.
I jumped back, heart racing. “I should go.”
“Can I walk you to your car?” John asked immediately.
“No,” I said, panicked by how much I wanted to say yes. “I mean… No, I’m fine.”
He nodded, patient. Always patient.
“Maybe,” he said quietly, “I’ll see you soon.”
“Maybe,” I whispered.
Then I escaped into the cold night air before I could do something reckless.
Like kiss him.
Or let him kiss me.
Or admit how badly I wanted both.