Chapter One #3
“Good. So what are you going to do?”
I lifted my head and looked at the clock. It was barely eight, and my personal day had been on the calendar for three weeks.
“I’m going to make sure he deletes it.”
“You’re going in person?”
“I am.”
Brandi’s earrings swung as she nodded. “Wear something that says dignified adult woman.”
“I always dress like a dignified adult woman.”
“Today, maybe add armor.”
An hour later, I parked outside Sin & Tonic in a pale-blue cotton sundress, tan boots, and enough composure to convince a casual observer I hadn’t sent the owner an eight-point sexual manifesto.
The morning had already turned fierce. Heat shimmered above the gravel lot, cicadas rattled in the scrub oaks, and the metal door handle burned my palm when I pulled it open.
Inside, the bar was quiet except for the ceiling fans and the clink of glass. Sunlight cut through the front windows in bright stripes across the floor. Titus stood behind the bar in faded jeans and a dark T-shirt, stacking clean tumblers. His white hat sat near the register.
He looked up.
His gaze traveled from my boots to my face, and something warmer than amusement entered his eyes.
“Good morning, Shay.”
“Delete it.”
Titus set down the glass. “Good morning to you too.”
“I’m trying to preserve what remains of my dignity.”
“You walked in with plenty.”
I tightened my grip on my purse strap.
“Your phone,” I said.
He took it from his back pocket, unlocked it, and laid it on the bar between us. The message thread was open. He pressed the screen, selected my list, and deleted it while I watched.
Then he opened the recently deleted folder and removed it there too.
“I didn’t take a screenshot or make a copy,” he said. “No one else saw it.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And now we forget this happened.”
Titus leaned one hip against the bar. “You keep asking for the part I can’t do.”
“You can try.”
“I could also try to forget my own birthday. That doesn’t make it likely.”
I pressed my lips together. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“It’s funny to you.”
“Mostly, yes.”
I gave up and laughed.
His expression sobered. “I’m not going to embarrass you, Shay.”
“I believe you,” I said.
“Then what are you worried about?”
“I’m worried that you read it.”
“I did read it.”
“You could show some remorse.”
“I didn’t steal your phone.”
“No, I delivered the humiliation directly to you. Very efficient.”
“That part impressed me.”
I pointed at him. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I had a long Monday.”
“So did I.”
“Your father threatened my permits.”
“And I objected.”
“And then sent me a list involving walls, cowboys, and several bad decisions.”
My cheeks burned. “You said you weren’t going to embarrass me.”
“I’m not. Nobody else is here.”
“That’s not the standard.”
His mouth curved. “What is the standard?”
“Pretend you didn’t read it.”
“We’ve covered that.”
“Pretend harder.”
Titus crossed his arms, drawing the cotton of his shirt tighter across his chest. “You were specific.”
I blinked. “About what?”
“Everything.”
“That might be the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”
“It wasn’t an insult.”
“No. That’s what makes it worse.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air-conditioning brushed cool air over my bare arms. Somewhere in the back, an ice machine dropped a load with a hollow crash.
Titus uncrossed his arms. “You want to know what I thought?”
“I don’t want to know.”
My answer came too fast.
One eyebrow lifted.
I sighed. “Fine. What did you think?”
“That the woman who sat here yesterday was more interesting than her father’s errand.”
My breath caught, small and annoying.
“You barely know me,” I said.
“That’s true.”
“And the list was wine-assisted.”
“I guessed.”
“I’d had three glasses.”
“That explains the numbering.”
“The numbering had nothing to do with the wine.”
“It didn’t?”
“I number sober thoughts too.”
Titus’s smile returned, slow enough that I had to look away. “I believe that.”
I adjusted the strap on my purse and took one step back from the bar. I had a bungalow waiting, built-ins to strip, and a full personal day I intended to use for something other than discussing my fantasies with a man who looked entirely too capable of fulfilling several.
“Thank you for deleting it,” I said.
“You already thanked me.”
“I’m reinforcing the behavior.”
“Is that one of your office skills?”
“It’s one of many.”
“I noticed.”
My fingers loosened around my purse strap.
I moved toward the door.
“Shay.”
I looked back.
Titus had picked up another glass, but his attention stayed on me. “Your secret’s safe.”
He said the words simply, without teasing or asking for anything in return.
“I know,” I replied.
Outside, sunlight flooded the lot, and the hot wind lifted the skirt of my dress around my knees. I climbed into my SUV, turned the air-conditioning high, and pulled onto the road toward the guesthouse. My old jeans and work boots waited there before I headed to the bungalow.
The unsettling part was that I believed Titus.
The dangerous part was wondering which item he remembered first.