A purpose crystallized in his mind. He wasn’t hungry, but hegrabbed a tray and loaded it with a few plates of eats, paid the cashier, andtook long strides toward Ms. Foster’s booth. As he approached, he slowed to acasual stroll. Her head was down, her dark hair like a curtain hiding her face;he couldn’t tell what she was looking at.
“Mind if I sit here?” He lowered his tray and cocked hishead to look at her.
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and … wet. Oh shit! Isshe crying? His stomach, which had been dancing only a second before, nowlurched and sank to his knees.
“Um …” She swiped at her cheeks. The food on her tray wasuntouched.
Why is she crying? “I, ah, I saw you sitting here,and I wanted to find out if you’d had any more canine or coffee … capers,” hestuttered. Capers? He mentally smacked his forehead. “I’ll leave.” Hegrasped the tray, feeling as lame as he sounded.
She studied him, her forehead furrowing in delicate linesthat mimicked soft waves. Amber eyes brightened. “The coffee! Did you get yourclothes clean?”
He nodded slowly, hovering his ass by the table, hopeful.She sniffled and, waving her hand across the table, offered him a half-smile.“Sit, please.”
Unsure if she was just being polite, he stayed rooted besidethe seat opposite hers. And stared. God,those eyes. The color of warm whiskey. Hehadn’t painted in years, but those eyes had his mind flying through painttubes. Gold Ochre, Raw Sienna, a little Venetian Red.And that mouth—sultry strawberry lips screaming to be tasted and nibbled andsucked.
His cock stirred, overriding all thoughts of paints, strainingto say hello. He told himself his reaction was wholly inappropriate—she’d beencrying after all—and to knock it off. No doubt he was intently zeroing in onher because sex was too far distant a memory. Really, he needed to do somethingabout his drought. Except no one else who’d registered so much as a blip on hisradar lately had affected him like she was affecting him right now.
He fidgeted with the tray and cleared his throat. “You sure?I don’t want to interrupt anything.” What is wrong with you? Just shut upand sit the fuck down.
“Yes, I’m sure. I was just having a pity party, and it’stime I got over myself.” One sweet breath escaped her lush lips. He chased outthe dirty thoughts lurking in his mind, instead focusing on her shimmering eyesand her words. Flaming desire winked out like it had been doused with a bucketof ice shavings, replaced by tugging heartstrings. He didn’t know this girl,but all of him needed to fix whatever the hell was wrong in her world.
And he had absolutely no idea why.
“So. Visiting someone here at the hospital?” He stuffed abite of roll in his mouth that tasted suspiciously like a roofing shingle.
A sigh heaved from her body, and her shoulders folded inaround her. “Yeah. You?”
He nodded. “A buddy. How about you?”
“Um, a friend. With a territorial ex-wife.”
The thought of her being with someone madehis stomach clutch and ripple, threatening to eject the roll. “Uh, soyour boyfriend?”
She nodded, and her hair shifted like a silken drape aroundher shoulders. “Sort of.”
His stomach eased. “What’s a ‘sort-of boyfriend’?” He kepthis tone casual, dreading what came next. Did he really want to know about aboyfriend, even a sort-of one?
Her eyes traveled to an upper corner of the room. “A guy Ihadn’t been dating very long when he wound up here. I’m trying to be assupportive as I can.”
“That’s gotta be … daunting?”
“Not to mention super awkward.” She swept a thick tressbehind her ear but didn’t manage to get it all, leaving strands sticking outthat he was sorely tempted to catch in his fingers. “Sorry. You asked a simplequestion, and here I am, going all TMI on you. How about we change thesubject?”
T.J. swallowed the cardboard crumbs, chasing them withchocolate milk. “Sure. Tell me about you. Are you from Denver?”
A little chuckle. Good. They weregoing in the right direction. “No, I grew up in a little town southwest of herecalled Salida. Ever heard of it?”
He shook his head.
Her eyes lit up. “It’s at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo Mountainson the Arkansas River. The most beautiful spot in the world,hands-down. How about you?”
“Northern Minnesota.”
“Is your family there?”
Cruising back into choppy waters now. “No siblings, and myparents are gone,” he lied. Sort of. No siblings he caredto talk about, and while his parents weren’t dead, they were definitely gone.
“I’m so sorry.” She looked genuinely distraught. He didn’ttell her it was a waste of time. “I’m Natalie, by the way.” She extended herhand across the table.
Natalie Foster. What a pretty name. It suited her.
T.J. accepted her hand, a thrill shooting up his arm, and heheld it, just held it. It was soft and small in his, and he caught himselfbefore brushing his thumb across her knuckles. She tilted her head to the side,and he gave her hand a quick shake. “I’m—”
A dog barked. Natalie held up a finger and pulled her phonefrom the seat beside her. Her ringtone. “Sorry, I need to take this. Butstay put. Hello? Natalie speaking.”
He pretended to look around, poked at his food, trying togive her some modicum of privacy. That effort lasted several seconds—up untilthe first, “But I thought …” rushed out of her. Followed by a silent second.Brows furrowed, she stared down at some unknown spot on her tray with glazedeyes. “But we agreed on three months, and I set aside …” Elbow propped on thetable, she dropped her forehead into her hand. “Are you able to share thereason why?”
Oh shit. Doesn’t sound good. He squelched an urge tosquirm.
“I understand.” She closed her eyes and shook her head.“Thank you. Yes, I appreciate that.” She swiped her phone, set it down, and letout a long-suffering sigh. She straightened, seeming to remember he was there.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
An absent look, not directed at him, as she ran her handsover her arms like she was chilled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Her phone
