I stared at her blankly. I had no response.Fill my life up with light?What did that even mean? Where did one even start?
“I think I know a guy who can help you with that,” Flo chimed in, easily reading my expression. “Tall? Broad shoulders? Thick, silver-streaked hair? Insane blue eyes? Ass you could bounce quarters off?”
I narrowed my gaze at her. “I have no idea who you’re referring to.”
Gwen shot Florence an amused look. “Has Desmond heard your prolific descriptions of Detective Hightower’s ass?”
Desmond was the bookish blond man I’d seen yesterday, as well as Flo’s boyfriend of several years. They lived in a duplex across town and, according to Gwen, were the very definition of a happy couple.
“Des doesn’t mind if I look. It’s the touching he’d have a problem with.” Florence lifted her shoulders in a graceful shrug. Her dark, melted chocolate eyes were on mine. “Can’t say I’m not curious about the touching, though… Care to share with the class, Imogen?”
Color flooded my cheeks. “There’s nothing to share.”
“Oh my god, look at that blush!” Flo pointed at me. “Nothing to share my left foot!Spill!”
“Flo, she doesn’t have to spill anything she doesn’t want to,” Gwen interjected. But her eyes moved to me, too. “Though, it must be said, I’m also curious about what’s going on between you and Cade.”
My mouth opened, then closed without a single word escaping. I wanted to tell them there was nothing going on between me and Cade, but my mind was abruptly full of memories from last night’s kiss. His hands cupping my face, his tongue stroking mine, his lips somehow both hard and soft as they moved…
Focus, Imogen!
I swallowed hard. “Honestly? I don’t know what’s going on.”
Flo and Gwen traded a glance.
“He’s... confusing,” I continued. “He acts like we’re together. Which isinsane. I’ve known the man two days!”
They traded another glance. Both of them had been witness to my interaction with Cade this afternoon, when he suddenly appeared in the shop. My heart had gone into palpitations when he’d stepped up to the counter, looking gorgeous as ever in a crisp white button down, which was rolled to the elbows to display his powerful forearms.
He didn’t stay long, seeing as he was on duty, but the short time he was here, I didn’t take a full breath. Not as I took his order for a double-cappuccino, not as I stepped behind the expresso machine to make it, not as I handed it to him. His long fingers had brushed mine as he extracted the cup from my grip. And then, right there in front of an entire store full of customers, not to mention Flo and Gwen, he’d leanedacrossthe counter, brushed his mouth against mine, and told me he was taking me out to dinner tonight when we were both off work.
Not asked me.
Toldme.
Like dinner was a foregone conclusion.
Like date night was something we’d done a zillion times before.
Like kissing me in front of a whole store full of strangers was no big deal at all.
I was so shellshocked by the kiss and his dinner declaration — okay, I admit, mostly by the kiss — I could barely summon the mental fortitude to inform him I was busy that evening, having dinner with Gigi and her boys at The Sea Witch. This was not a lie. Rory had roped me into it at breakfast, promising that his mom’s meatloaf was, and I quote, ‘the shit.’
Unfortunately, his enthusiastic sales pitch led to Declan tattling on him for foul language, which resulted in my quiet morning’s descent into another wild display of brother-on-brother violence. I’d hastily agreed, if only to smooth things over. (I didn’t even like meatloaf.)
When I’d shared my conflict with Cade, he didn’t even blink. He’d just done another delectably soft lip-brush and murmured, “Tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow is Halloween.”
“Yeah.” His eyes were smiling. “You can come over to my place. Help me and Socks pass out candy to trick-or-treaters.”
A pleasant shiver slid down my spine at that proposition. I had to admit, it sounded nice. To cover my quick-melting resolve, I’d dug deep into my reservoir of bitchy attitude.
“Candy isn’t dinner,” was my stiff reply.
“I promise to supplement the chocolate intake with something at the base of the food pyramid. I’ll order takeout. Or we’ll cook.”
My brows had gone up. “We’ll cook?”