Page 47 of All This Time

“Sixteenth birthday,” he finishes for me, looking up to find me staring at him. “I remember.”

My heart feels like it’s in my throat. Shaking off the moment, I head toward the kitchen. “Are you thirsty?”

“Sure. Water would be great.”

“That’s all I have besides wine.”

“No wine for me, thanks.”

I momentarily debate having some myself, just to take the edge off. But losing my composure around Fletcher is the last thing I need right now.

Taking two glasses of water over to the dining room table, I signal for Fletcher to follow me. He takes his glass and downs half of it. “Thanks.”

“Of course. I also made some dip.” I point to the chips and dip on the table.

Fletcher smirks. “I thought you said no food.”

“I’m a snacker. But if you don’t want any, that’s fine. More to get stuck to my thighs.”

His eyes dip down to my legs. “Your thighs look perfect to me.” I don’t bother responding because what the hell am I supposed to say to that?

Is Fletcher flirting with me?

He takes a chip, scoops it into the caramelized onion dip, and pops it in his mouth. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” I take a taste for myself. “I saw this recipe online and I’ve made it three times in the last two weeks.”

“Is this why it smells like onions and lemons in here?” he asks as he pops another dip-filled chip in his mouth.

“The onions are from the dip. The lemons are from the candle.” I point to where the candle rests on the kitchen counter.

His lips lift in that signature grin, his dimple appearing just slightly as he arches a brow. “Are you trying to seduce me, angel?”

Angel.

There’s that nickname again.

I choose to ignore it, even though my heart is hammering from hearing it. Unfortunately, it always reacts that way at hearing that term of endearment. “In your dreams, Fletcher.”

“If you only knew,” he mumbles before taking a seat at the table and assessing the supplies I gathered. “Uh, why do we need tape?” he asks, picking up the plastic holder and examining it.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t sure what we were going to need. I figured we could complete the favors tonight since that’s easy enough,” I say as I reach for the organza bags, placing them on the table beside me. Next, I grab the bags of monogrammed M&M’s and toss them on the surface as well. But when I turn back to Fletcher, an unattractive snort leaves my lips. “What on earth?”

“What?” he asks, his voice more nasally than before. He’s taped the tip of his nose to his forehead, lifting his nose entirely so I can practically see up into his brain.

“Fletcher, you’re ridiculous,” I say through a laugh.

“I’m just making good use of the supplies you took the time to provide.”

Shaking my head, I take the organza bags out and start separating them. “That was not what I had in mind. But apparently your listening skills haven’t improved over the years, so now I know to be clearer.”

He rips the tape off of his face, balling it up and tossing it into the cardboard box. “At least I got you to smile, which is a far cry from the snarl you’ve had on your face since I got here.”

I gasp. “I don’t snarl.”

“You do at me, angel.”

I drop my eyes back down to the table. “Please don’t call me that.”