Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye - Jacquelyn Middleton Page 0,3

out from under his arm. Toys—for his twins. A dull ache wrapped around her heart, but it was overtaken by pain searing through her right leg, short-circuiting all thoughts of children and small talk. She sucked in a sharp breath and adjusted the weight on her shoulder. Keep standing and my knee will be a mess tonight. She looked past the guy’s unicorn, past his mussed-up hair, windswept from the storm outside, to the few remaining chairs. I need to sit down. Just don’t tell hot Star Wars dad my name. “Yeah, okay.”

His face lit up. “Brilliant! After you.” He shifted his bag’s weight, keeping it close as they moved through the crowd. “Oh, wait. Where are my manners?” He stopped and tucked the dinosaur into his bag. “Hello, I’m Tarquin.” He offered his right hand.

Oh, crap! Leia’s stomach sank to the floor. Introductions? How very British. She forced a smile as the Star Wars theme blasted from his trouser pocket. Shit! Worst timing ever.

“Oh, sorry! Just gotta…” Tarquin fought with his pocket, tugging his phone free.

Eyes wide, she looked over her shoulder, her fingers toying with the rose gold bracelet on her left wrist that she never took off. The checkout was choked with irate shoppers going nowhere and the sliding glass exit was stuck, inviting an umbrella-decapitating surge of wind and icy rain into the store.

I can’t leave. I can’t escape Star Wars hell. Leia glanced at Tarquin again. But I can change how I react. Be grateful this guy’s helping you grab a seat. She zeroed in on his left hand as he pressed the red ‘decline’ button. He’s got kids but no wedding ring. His boys must’ve been born before he was twenty. He can’t be much older than me.

Stuffing his phone back in his pocket, he extended his free hand once more. “Where were we?”

Use the old standby. Tell him your name is Lisa. Taking a deep breath, Leia reached out. “I’m—”

“Excuse me! Miss?”

Leia spotted the hipster checkout clerk striding toward her, reading something in his palm. “Miss Scott?” He pushed his glasses up his nose with his index finger. Then, she saw it in his grasp—her credit card. “Leia Scott?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Leia?!” Tarquin’s voice soared, joining his brows in reaching for the ceiling.

Giving the employee a nod and a “Thank you,” Leia swallowed heavily, cursing her luck.

Two

TARQUIN

Leia? Bloody hell! Is she for real? Joining the line of customers seeking free coffees, Tarquin’s smile wouldn’t quit. She’s gorgeous and blonde and named after a lifelong crush! It’s like fate or something. A rush of adrenaline surged through his chest, taking his pulse on a joyride. “So, that’s really your name? Like Star Wars Leia?” The words flew from his tongue. I can’t screw this up. I cannot walk out of here without her number.

She grimaced, tucking her credit card in her wallet. “Yeah. Thanks, Mom and Dad.” A half-laugh left her lips. Her attention was restless, wandering back to the checkout. “People think they’ve heard wrong and call me Leah. Either that, or they go all Star Wars geek on me. They ask where my hair buns are, if Obi-Wan Kenobi was my only hope…” She glanced up, her large blue eyes free of shadow and mascara taking in the menu posted above the counter, and sighed. “If I own a gold bikini.”

Well, if she’s going there. Tarquin raised his brows. If she does own one, I bet she looks smashing in it. He cleared his throat, his gaze reuniting with the beverages menu holding her attention. “So, do you…?”

Leia’s lips pushed into a pout. “Do I what?” Irritation peppered her tone. “Own a gold bikini?”

Oops. Struck a nerve. Walk it back, Balfour. “Oh, no—sorry. Do you want that free coffee—or tea?”

Her chin dropped as she looked his way. “Uh, no. Thanks.” A grin flickered across her face.

Nice save—still got it.

“I don’t like hot drinks.” She scrunched her nose and stepped up to the counter.

What? Who doesn’t like hot drinks? “Oh, really? I love the stuff. I measure my days with coffee.”

“You…” Her face pinched. “I’m sorry?”

“My coffee consumption—it indicates how my day’s going. If I’ve had two cups, the day’s a winner, work’s buzzing, I’m too busy for coffee. But four cups or more”—he winced—“the day’s a bloody slog. I always drink more when things need a kick up the arse.”

“Oh. Right.” Her eyebrows relaxed and she smiled at the guy waiting to take her order. A bubbly “Hi!” burst through her lips,