“So.” I blew out a breath, opening the car window to clear my head. Red’s intoxicating scent filled the car.
And I was drowning in it.
Think of something else.
“Have you been to Anna’s?” I asked.
“The café and bakery?”
“Yes. That’s the one.”
Her face brightened. “I love it there.”
If I’d known she loved that café, I would have taken her there a long time ago.
“Then we’ll go there.”
She smiled, and my heart thumped fast and loud against my chest.
“We have time to eat before I drive you to Kara’s. My class isn’t till one, so I’d have time to go home to shower. Unless”—I paused and waited until she looked at me—“you want to shower with me?”
I was only half joking.
I was expecting her to laugh or even roll her eyes like the last time I’d asked her this, but she didn’t. She just looked out the window with a secret half smile on her kissable lips.
Does that mean she wants to…?
I cleared my throat and opened my mouth to say something funny, but I felt tongue-tied.
“Then we have time for breakfast,” she said.
I really thought she was going to say something else.
Concentrate on the road.
“Want the radio on?” I asked.
I’m nervous, I realized. What the hell?
I noticed her eyeing my hands on the wheel. I waited a beat.
She took a deep breath, as if preparing herself, and then slowly reached for my hand. Laced her fingers with mine.
That was all it took.
For her to reach for my hand. And make me feel like the king of the world.
Jack Dawson had nothing on me.
I turned to look at Red. She was looking straight ahead, blushing, her fingers linked with mine.
And I knew, right at that moment, that I would die for this girl.
She was the one. She always had been.
“Caleb, I think we just went past Anna’s.”
Did she expect me to remember where Anna’s was when my heart was about to burst?
I couldn’t even remember my own name.
Was it Jack Dawson?
“Did you change your mind?” she asked.
“Never. I made up my mind a long time ago. I think I knew the first time I saw you.”
I felt her eyes on me, felt her hand tighten against mine.
I made a U-turn at the light and whipped the car into a free parking spot behind the café. And just stared straight ahead.
“I remember the first time I saw you,” she said. “It wasn’t at the club. It was on campus.”
I couldn’t remember the time in my life before I knew her.
“What was I doing?”
She smirked. “Flirting with three girls.”
I grinned. “Jealous?”
“No.”
“Why are you frowning?”
She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms across her chest. “I’m not frowning.”
“Yes, you definitely are.”
“I am not.”
“Yes, you—”
“Oh, this is so childish.” She got out of the car and headed to the café’s front entrance.
Grinning, I followed her inside like a puppy.
The café was small and cozy. It looked vintage, with antique mirrors and black-and-white pictures of Paris on the gray concrete walls. The brown tables and chairs looked old, but I knew they were new. A large blackboard hung above the bar, and the menu was written in different colors of chalk.
Red went straight to the glass display case where dainty and elegant-looking pastries and bread were displayed.
“These are so pretty.” She beamed, her nose almost touching the glass as she gawked at the display. She looked adorable, like a kid in a candy store.
After we ordered, she chose a table near the window with a view of a charming street lined with tall, wide trees and blooming flowers. I sat across from her. She cupped her chin in her palms, her eyes shining with excitement. “Someday I’ll have my own café. Just like this. But I’d want it in a small bookstore where people could read or hang out while having coffee.”
Leaning forward, I propped my arms on the table, stroking her elbows, and caged her legs between mine.
She was sharing her dreams. She never did that.
“I’ll be your first and most loyal customer,” I promised. “Will you serve pancakes?”
“Especially,” she whispered, smiling.
I smiled back, making small circles on the inside of her elbow.
She kept talking, but the sound of her voice was a siren’s call to my ears. It felt like I hadn’t heard it in so long. Her lips were moving, her dark eyes shining. She was so beautiful.
She kicked me under the table. “Caleb? Are you listening?”
“You said you love me.”
She bit her lip, and I knew she was trying to hold in a laugh.
“I didn’t know you liked croissants. I was sure you were going to get cinnamon buns,” I commented after the waitress brought our order. I picked up my knife and slathered a glob of butter on my pancakes.
“Normally yes, but Damon has been bringing these amazing croissants to Kar’s every other day. His mom bakes them. I think I might have to blackmail her to get the recipe.”
I accidentally poured too much syrup on my pancakes. Great. I placed the bottle of syrup carefully on the table and looked down on my plate.
“Caleb?” She sounded alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong?
I raised my eyes. “What is he to you?”
She frowned. “Who?”
I gritted my teeth. “Damon.”
Her eyes cleared in understanding. “Oh, Caleb.” She shook her head, smiled teasingly. “Are you jealous?”
“Damn right I am.” I heaved out a sigh. Jealousy was petty, but I couldn’t help it.
“He’s just a friend. That night when you saw us at the club, he was just comforting me. I…wasn’t feeling good.”
“I’m not going to tell you who you can be friends with—”
“Good.”
“—but please understand that I feel murderously jealous when I see other guys touching you and that I am being completely reasonable when I break your friend’s face if he’s being more than friendly.”
She rolled her eyes. “I told you—”
“Yes, you have, but is that all he wants? He just happens to be there every time you need a shoulder to cry on? What about me? I’m more than your friend. You can cry on my shoulder. My shoulder is always available for you. My shoulder is the property of Red. Do you want me to tattoo that on here?” I pointed to my shoulder. “Or do you want it—”
She dragged her chair around to sit beside me and rested her head on my shoulder.
Oh, this girl.
She had my heart. All of it.
“I know now,” she said, “but at the time, I didn’t. I thought you hated me.”
“I could never hate you.” I leaned my head against hers. “I love you,” I said.
And waited.
“You’re not used to hearing it. Okay. It’s all good. But every time I say it, I want you to know that I mean it. I mean every word,” I told her.
“I love you,” she whispered after a moment.
Just like that. Yeah, just like that. She owned me.
I knew it. She knew it. She knew that I knew she knew it.
