I’d controlled my smile, I looked over at the man, and his focus was on me.
My breath stuttered to a halt.
Why wasn’t his gaze glued to Jenny?
Why weren’t those ice-white blue eyes fixated on my best friend’s tits, which Jenny helpfully plumped up as she preened at my side?
For a second, I was so close to breaking out into a coughing fit, it was humiliating. Then, more humiliation struck in a quieter manner, but it was nevertheless rotten—I turned pink.
Now, you might think you know what a blush is. You might think you’ve even experienced it yourself a time or two. But I was a redhead. My skin made fresh milk look yellow, and even my fucking freckles were pale. Everything about me was like I’d been dunked into white wax.
But as the heat crawled over me, taking over my skin as the man looked at me without pause, I knew things had rarely been this dire.
See, with Jenny as a best friend, I was used to the attention going her way. I could hide in the background, hide in her shadow. I liked it there. I was comfortable there. Sometimes, on double dates, she’d drag me along, and even the guy supposed to be dating me would be gaping at Jenny. As pathetic as it was, I was so used to it, it didn’t bother me.
But now?
I just wasn’t used to being in the spotlight.
Especially not a man like this one’s spotlight.
When you’re a teenager, practicing with your mom’s blush for the first time, you always look like a tomato that’s been left out in the sun, right?
I was redder than that.
I could feel it. I could fucking feel the heat turning me tomato red.
When Jenny cleared her throat, I thanked God when it broke the man’s attention. He shot her a look, but it wasn’t admiring. It wasn’t even impressed.
If anything, it was irritated.
Okay, so now both Jenny and I were stunned.
Fuck that, we were floored.
Literally.
Our mouths were doing a pretty good fish impression as the man turned back to look at me.
Shit, was this some kind of joke?
Was it April 1st and I’d just gotten the dates mixed up again?
“Ms. Keegan?”
Oh fuck. His voice.
Oh. My. God.
That voice.
It was. . . .
I had to swallow.
Did men even talk like that?
It was low and husky and raspy and made me think of sex, not just mediocre sex, but the best sex. Toe-curling, nails-breaking-in-the-sheets sex. Sex so fucking good you couldn’t walk the next day. Sex so hot that it made my current core temperature look polar in comparison. Sex that I’d never been lucky to have before, so I pined for it in the worst way.
Jenny nudged me in the side when I just carried on gaping at the man. “Y-Yes. That’s me.” I cleared my throat, feeling nervous and stupid and flustered as I wiped my hands on my apron.
Sweet Jesus.
Was this man really looking for me while I was wearing a goddamn pinafore?
Even as practical as they were, I wanted to beg the patron saint of pinnies to remove it from me. To do something, anything, to make sure that this man didn’t see me in the red gingham check that I always wore to cover up stains.
And then I felt it.
Jenny’s hand.
Tugging at the knot.
I wanted to kiss her. Seriously. I wanted to give her a fucking raise! As I moved away from the counter and her side, the apron dropped to the floor as I headed for the man whose hand was now held out, ready for me to shake in greeting.
There are those moments in your life when you know you’ll never forget them. They can be happy or sad, annoying or exhilarating. This was one of them.
As I slipped my hand into his, I felt the electric shocks down to my core. Meeting his gaze wasn’t hard because I was stunned, and I needed to know if he’d felt that, too.
From the way those eyelids were shielding his icy-blue eyes, I figured he was just as surprised.
It was like a satisfied puma was watching me. One that was happy there was plump prey prancing around in front of him.
Shit.
Did I just describe myself as ‘plump prey?’
And like that, my house of cards came tumbling down because what the hell would this man want with me?
I was seeing things.
God, I was so stupid sometimes.
I cleared my throat for, like, the fourth damn time, and asked, “I’m Ms. Keegan. You are?”