Page 30 of The Disputed Legacy

Get over it and move on already.

Furrowing my brow at my thoughts, I wiped the counter a little harder than what was necessary. Getting a coffee stain out was tricky, but at the rate I was putting elbow grease into my effort, I’d polish the surface so thoroughly that I’d make a hole in it.

It seemed so dumb to convince myself to get over Saul. There was nothing to get over in the first place. I hadn’t started anything with him. He hadn’t taken the bait on my offer to be friends, and even that was a huge step and allowance for me.

But he lingered on my mind. He was still showing up in my dreams, too, trespassing when I wasn’t conscious. Oscar kept the idea of Saul ongoing as well. When he arrived after school, he did his usual scan for Saul. Not seeing him, he frowned and sighed heavily, as if he’d lost a pet.

No, this is good. Look at how attached Oscar was getting to him already. We don’t need someone else in our lives. The smaller we keep our circle, the better.

And if I had to endure more erotic dreams about Saul being every book boyfriend I’d ever read about, well, I was sure that would fade with time too.

Throughout my shift, I couldn’t help but let my mind wanderthere. My experience with sex was limited.Verylimited, and with that lack of knowhow and previous actions, my imagination seemed to make up the difference.

From the first flirty moment and hot stare Saul had given me, I just knew he’d be the kind of strong man to make me tremble. He had that look, that aura of being so damn hot and tempting that he couldn’t possibly be bad in bed. Some men gave off that vibe, that they could ruin a woman for the rest of their lives with the best orgasms in existence, and I couldn’t shake off the persistent hunch that Saul would be one of those kinds of lovers. Rugged and rough, but maybe gentle and tender too. His suits hid his body, but still, it wasn’t hard to detect the musculature in his arms. The tension in his long fingers. And the hint of those tattoos up his wrist and over the back of his hands?

I groaned lightly since no one was near this table to hear me.

The absolute last thing I needed in my life was a bad boy. A rebel. A troublemaker. Saul seemed to have that naughty and mischievous presence, though, and it sure made me all that much more curious about him. I was endlessly taunted to want to see how bad he could be.

With me.

“Well, damn.”

I lifted my head to check on what had gotten Irene’s attention.

She stood at a couple of tables over, clearing off and stacking the dirty dishes to take back to Margo like I was doing. Facingthe front of the diner, she stood still and blinked slowly. Her lips parted as her brows shot up high.

“I take that back. He doesn’t look like he’s lost interest.”

Huh?

I twisted, squinting to see through the wall of curved windows that made up the front wall. Depending on how dark it was outside and which lights were on in the diner, the glare against the panes could frost or distort the view outside.

But not him.

Saul was there.

Standing with one hand pressed against the glass as he looked in, he gave me a crystal-clear image of himself.

And I knew exactly what had captured Irene’s attention.

His—on me.

She’d noticed how he was staring at me.

My customer of the month had locked his ravenous gaze on me, watching me with so much longing and yearning, such an intense hunger and need showing in his expression, that it stole my breath.

This was how a predator studied its prey.

How an artist admired his masterpiece.

How a famished person could lust for a treat.

“Yeah, that guy istotallyinto you, Willow.” She added a weak laugh, like she was stuck in disbelief that she’d ever said otherwise.

I swallowed hard, getting over not only the surprise of seeing him again but also with how much he couldn’t stop regarding me with that feral desire.

“You think?” I whispered, halfheartedly joking.