He smiled. “That’s a dangerous thing to say.”
Something flickered in my chest. “Is it?”
He held my gaze for a moment. “It could be.” Then he went over to the bar to order.
I exhaled quietly.
What am I doing here?
Except I already knew the answer to that.
I just wasn’t ready to admit what I was hoping might happen next.
When Stefan returned, he set the glass in front of me. “Try this. It’s a pineapple rum sour.”
I reached for it and our fingers brushed, a brief accidental connection.
Okay, maybe not so accidental.
I took a sip. It was sharper than I expected, but with a warmth that lingered.
I glanced at him. “That’s good.”
“I thought you might like it.”
Our eyes met, and neither of us looked away.
There was no mistaking it now.
The atmosphere had shifted. The easy rhythm of the afternoon had given way to something slower, more deliberate.
I became aware ofeverything.
The space between us felt too small. Stefan leaned forwards, his forearms resting on the table, closing the distance. His gaze lingered on my face. His voice seemed lower, his tone more intimate.
“You’re different here,” he said.
I frowned. “Different how?”
Stefan tilted his head, studying me. “Less guarded. Or perhaps just… less certain what you’re supposed to be.”
And there was that tightening in my chest again. “Is it that obvious?”
“To me,” he said. There was a pause before his gaze flicked briefly to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
Slow enough that I noticed.
That I understood.
My pulse quickened, and I set my glass down carefully.
“And what doyouthink I’m supposed to be?”
Stefan smiled. “I don’t think that matters.” Another pause, and then his voice was more gentle. “What matters is what youwant.”
I swallowed. “What if I don’t know?”
Stefan didn’t look away. “Then you find out.”