Page 47 of Kiss and Tell

“You look…” Connor trailed off.

“You’re the one who told me to change into something comfy,” I said, beginning to get annoyed.

“No, I mean, you look really different wearing that.”

His voice had an almost dreamy quality to it. Connor took the end of my ponytail between his fingers, twirling the strands. My breath hitched, heart pumping rapidly. His gaze was transfixed, as if he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s like this cute girl-next-door look,” he continued.

I found myself drifting closer, curling one leg under me as my heartbeat raced. Connor’s gaze went from where he was playing with my hair to meet my eyes. My heart clenched in my chest at the tender expression on his face.

I knew I had to stop this.

I didn’t want to.

I made myself anyway, pressing against the arm of the sofa, backing up as far as I could.

“Sandwiches,” I blurted out.

Connor blinked, seeming to shake himself out of a stupor. He let my hair drop from his fingers.

“How do you feel about serving sandwiches at the bar?” I pulled my laptop onto my knees, clutching the corners with shaky hands. I couldn’t look at him. I stared at the laptop screen until the words turned blurry. “I know you like sandwiches.”

“You really want to talk about sandwiches right now?” Connor asked softly.

“We can turn it up a notch,” I powered on. “Paninis and wraps and such. And we could even do baked goods, like desserts. Brownies. Cakes. That’s a good start for the menu.”

“Quinn.” That was all Connor said. Just my name.

It was enough to send me reeling. I stood from the sofa in a flurry, going to the kitchenette to pour myself a glass of water.

“I don’t think you want to offer a full menu,” I continued. “It’s not like you’re going to be a restaurant. Just a bar.”

His silence was heavy as I took audible gulps.

“Sure,” he said finally. “Let’s go with sandwiches and desserts.”

“Good. Great. That’s one detail knocked out.” My hand shook as it clutched the glass. “I think we’ve made some progress tonight. Good job.”

“That’s it?” Connor asked. “We’re done?”

There was a deeper meaning behind the words.

“Yeah,” I said. “We’re done.”

Done before we’d even started.

Connor stood, heaving himself up. I stared down at the water rippling in the glass, not meeting his eyes.

“This place has a great gym,” Connor said. “If we’re done with work, I’m going to go change and check it out.”

He didn’t wait for me to respond as he went into the bedroom and came out in gym shorts and a t-shirt with a towel slung around his shoulders.

“I’ll be back later,” was all he said.

The mood in the room was so strained, I didn’t even take the opportunity to admire his muscled upper arms or his strong, broad shoulders as he let the door close behind him.

I climbed into bed and laid there for hours, lights off but unable to sleep.