a speck of makeup, and where most women draw on their brows and cake their faces with that shit, Selene doesn’t. Her brows are dark, thick, and bushy, yet they’re shaped and cleaned up so well, they complement her face in ways that would never work on any other woman. Her eyes are large, almost too big for her face, but they give her an innocence that most women lack.
I realize I must be staring at her too hard because she quickly looks away, tucking a thick lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, well, we just found out ourselves. And if you don’t mind,” she says, turning to glance at me, “can you keep that between us? I don’t know if he’s officially told anyone in town yet, so just…just don’t say anything.”
I should probably tell her that half the town already knows, but the words never come. There’s a long beat of silence as we stare at each other. And as I do, I’m reminded of the little girl from the store. Luna.
As I stare at her mother, I can see the resemblance, mainly the shape of their faces, the freckles dusting across their noses, but above all, whoever the father is, that’s who she takes after. I start to wonder what kind of guy she’d found in Pasadena. What kind of guy would leave her, let alone leave his own kid?
As I drink her in and think of her daughter, the bright little ball of sass, I can’t imagine any sane man would willingly walk away from either of them.
“You have my word. I won’t say anything.”
She smiles. It’s a closed-mouth grin, but the effect it has on me is still impressive. It’s breathtaking. She’s breathtaking.
Lately, I don’t spend much of my free time with women, and when I do, they’re usually one-night stands. It’s all I have time for these days. But Selene’s smile starts in one corner of her mouth and tugs into a full-blown masterpiece that has me questioning my sanity. It has me wondering what it’d be like to have that smile directed at me, day in and day out.
How could I have missed her?
Was she always this enchanting?
Was she always this beautiful?
Slowly, the smile drops off her face when she whispers, “Why are you staring at me like that?”
The truth is, I don’t know why I’m staring at her like this. I don’t know why I can’t seem to act like a regular person around her at this moment.
I consider kissing her, grasping her beautiful face in my hands and taking her red pouty lips with mine. And as I imagine it, I get this strange tingling at the back of my neck, a sense of déjà vu. My brows pull in as I regard her. There’s a familiar tug in the air, one I’m unable to place. I can’t help but wonder why she seems so familiar to me, but at the same time, she’s not.
Why do I feel like if I were to kiss her, she’d taste sweet, like honey, and smell like strawberries? Her skin would be soft, fucking painfully soft, and her moan—
I shake my head, internally berating myself for that train of thought. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I stop thinking of tasting her and touching her?
“Sorry.” I chuckle, rubbing at the back of my neck. “You’re just so…beautiful.”
Once again, she nervously tucks loose hairs behind her ears, avoiding my gaze. We go back to looking out at the creek, but it only holds my attention for a little while. Unable to help myself, I look back at her, trailing my gaze across her profile. She looks deep in thought and upon closer inspection, maybe even a little sad. Her lips are tugged down into a small, barely there frown. I don’t even think she realizes she’s doing it.
“I met your daughter today. She’s cute. How old is she?”
I watch it happen, the way her entire body goes rigid. The muscles near her mouth tighten, and the blood drains from her face for the second time in one night. I open my mouth, wanting to ask if she’s okay, but when I drop my gaze down to her hands, I realize they’re trembling. She’s suddenly an anxious ball of fearful energy.
“I should probably get going,” she murmurs, a slight edge to her tone.
A crease forms between my brows. “Yeah, all right. I’ll see you around, I guess.”