Somehow he’d finagled another chance.
That night after class, he and Kim found themselves back at The Bottomless Cup. They’d run into each other outside—intentionally on his part since he’d come by in the hopes she might show up—and she hadn’t objected to his suggestion of coffee and pie.
Not the sweets he wanted most but the night was young.
“So you’re done with art. Turned in your final project tonight?” Michael stirred cream into his coffee, focusing on the task to avoid glancing into her melted caramel eyes. They weren’t gold and they weren’t brown. Hazel was probably the correct term, even if it didn’t begin to describe the heat and life and humor that burned behind them.
“Yeah.”
“Of me.”
Kim sighed and sipped her coffee. “Of you. No, I didn’t spend extra time elongating your penis. You got what the Good Lord gave you and not an inch more.”
He laughed and marveled that they could be in the same diner again, and it could feel so natural even with so much sexual tension between them. Kim wasn’t Roch and apparently he wasn’t the man he’d been a few years ago either. Just fun had become a misnomer, at least in regards to the woman sitting across from him. She captivated him on so many levels he was having trouble simply slotting her into a bed partner role.
“Not even after last night? I would assume that would get me halfway to hero status.”
She dumped more sugar into her coffee and sipped. “In spite of what transpired between us last evening, I am not sweet on you. Just saying.”
“You’ve only known me forty-eight hours.” He kept his voice even. “That would be impossible.”
“Of course it is. And your junk isn’t so magical that you’ve been elevated to hero yet.”
“I was referring to rescuing you by the side of the road. Though that was technically this morning.”
“I don’t even—” She broke off, her eyes narrowing. “It was you.”
He didn’t ask what she meant. He already knew. “I was wondering when you’d remember.”
“Two months ago, the night my tire went flat. It was raining out and you came when I called the shop. You told me to call you Mike.” She frowned. “You’re so not a Mike.”
“Michael sounds a little pretentious for a tow truck driver, dontcha think?”
“I asked you how long you’d worked for my brother and you said two hours.” She smiled faintly. “I was your first call, wasn’t I?”
“You sure were. And you didn’t identify Brad as your brother.” He sampled his coffee. “Some impression I made that you just remembered, huh?”
“You had a cap on and a slicker. It was dark out and I could barely see your face.”
“I saw yours.”
She snorted. “Really. I suppose you recognized me the moment you first saw me in Randall’s class too?”
“Not the first moment but the first night for sure. I figured it out after class when I was trying to understand why I couldn’t get your face out of my mind. That night on the side of the road you were wearing a knockout red dress and killer heels, showing off all those curves, and you couldn’t stop swearing to yourself as you texted. Looking all fierce.” He shook his head and sip
ped. “It was all I could do not to laugh while I changed your tire.”
“Good thing you didn’t. I probably would’ve kicked you.”
“You seemed mad enough to.”
She made a face. “My ex Gary decided to leave me high and dry that night. We’d split up a while before but we’d agreed to go to the sanctuary’s fundraiser together that night. Instead he started texting me all this crap about how I was a shrew who didn’t like to swallow. Really nasty stuff.” She sighed and picked up her fork to dig into her slice of pumpkin pie. “Turned out he was drunk. The next morning he begged me to take him back.”
“Did you?”
“Hell no. I have more self-respect than that.”
“Good.” He set down his mug and decided to go for it. “So is that true about the swallowing thing?”