I breathed through my nose, relaxing slightly as she gently brushed on my makeup. I trusted Alyssa to make me look good. She’d already done wonders with my hair.
“Do you think he’s expecting to have sex?” I finally asked.
“Expecting? I hope not. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s thinking about it. Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathed, my heart racing.
Ever since we’d started talking on the phone, I’d thought about it. I’d even touched myself thinking of his voice, of the words he said to me. And at night—alone in my bed—I’d often wondered if he was doing the same.
“But—I mean, this is crazy, right? Meeting someone from the internet. Inviting him into my home.”
“First of all, you don’t have to invite him to your house. And you shouldn’t unless you feel safe with him.”
I heard the click of the palette closing, and I opened one eye to watch her. She picked up a different palette and brush, her tongue sticking out from between her teeth. I closed my eyes again as she resumed her application.
“Besides, people meet online all the time and fall in love,” she said.
“Whoa. Whoa.” My eyes shot open. “I was talking about sex, not love.”
“Well, whatever it is, if you’re feeling it, I say go for it.” She grinned.
“Have sex with a stranger.”
“Well, he’s not a stranger, not really. You guys have been talking for months now.”
Months of talking and becoming friends, getting to know each other on a deeper level. I nodded. She made a good point, but still…we’d never met.
“And it’s allowed your relationship to develop without the physical stuff getting in the way.”
I nodded, accepting the eyelash curler from her. She was right. All the hours spent emailing and talking on the phone had established a strong foundation. He was easy to talk to, but would our chemistry translate to an in-person meeting?
I curled my lashes then applied mascara before finally standing. I smoothed my palms over my thighs and checked my reflection once more, evaluating my hair, my outfit, my shoes. My boobs looked good, but when I turned to the side, I worried that my butt looked big in these jeans.
“You look fantastic,” Alyssa said, coming to stand beside me.
She ushered me toward the door. “Ooh!” She flapped her hands around like a weird, confused bird. “This is so exciting!”
I placed a hand to my stomach, which churned with unease. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
I hadn’t stepped foot out of her apartment, and I was already a bundle of nerves. How on earth was I going to make it through meeting Connor? Not to mention hold a conversation. Oh god.
“I think this is a mistake,” I said, the reality of what I was doing suddenly crashing down on me.
“I think—” Alyssa placed her hands on my shoulders, grounding me “—that you’re scared, and that’s okay. But I also know that if you don’t go, you’ll wonder ‘what if’ for the rest of your life.”
“The rest of my life? Geez.” I blew out a breath. “Dramatic much?”
“Come on, Olivia. You can do this. You’re not marrying the guy, just meeting for coffee.” I was positive her smile was meant to be reassuring, but nothing was going to ease my anxiety.
I was meeting someone I’d fantasized about for months. What if he didn’t live up to the image in my head? Worse still, what if I was nothing like he’d expected? What if this was one big letdown—our meeting a complete bust after all the excitement and tension that had built up over the phone?
“I bet he’s just as nervous as you are,” she said.
I barked out a laugh. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
The way he spoke, the confidence in his deep voice, the things he said…all made me believe that he was experienced, especially when it came to women. I knew about Katie. How many others were there like her?
“What if I’m not, you know, what he expected?” I finally voiced my greatest fear aloud.
“What if you’re even better than he hoped? You’ll never know unless you meet him.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door.
“Yeah, but I’m not…me when I’m with him.”
She furrowed her brow. “Huh?”
“I’m braver, more confident.”
The corner of her mouth tilted into a smile. “Have you ever thought that maybe that’s who you really are?”
I stilled, considering her words. Was it all just an act, or did Connor bring out the best version of me?
“Please just meet him,” she huffed.
“You’re only pushing this because you’re hoping he has some hot friends I can introduce you to,” I teased.
“Quit stalling.” She placed her hands on her hips. “And yes—that would be awesome. But that’s not why I’m pushing this. I see the way you light up when you talk about Connor. You’ve never even met the man, but there’s clearly something between you two.”
I nodded, knowing she was right. There was definitely something between us, and I’d be an idiot to ignore it.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” She danced around, making me laugh. “Call me as soon as you get home. I expect a full report.”
I saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She grinned and shook her head. “Have fun.”
The drive to The Last Bookshop seemed to pass both quickly and slowly. I was so preoccupied, I could barely recall how I’d gotten there. After another glance in the mirror and a quick pep talk, I headed for the door, hoping I wouldn’t regret this.
When I opened the door, I couldn’t help but smile despite my nerves. Just the aroma of the books made me happy. Plus, they always had such amazingly creative displays. I wandered down the shelves, passing through the tunnel—a lit archway of books—before making my way through the labyrinth. I was stalling, but I needed a moment to collect myself before I entered the coffee shop.
I took a deep breath and forged on, the hissing of the coffee machine growing louder with every step. When I emerged into the coffee shop, I scanned the room, my eyes quickly coming to rest on a man whose back was to me. His rigid posture and muscular physique matched what I’d imagine for a former SEAL. His hair was short—buzzed close to the scalp, but I couldn’t see his face. His shirt fit Connor’s description, but he was talking to an elderly man. Besides, “blue button-down” was so vague. Was it cobalt? Turquoise? Navy?
I tried to maintain my smile as I scanned the other patrons. Several women wearing yoga clothes with babies in tow. An elderly couple. A group of students huddled around their laptops. Yet my attention kept returning to the man in the pale-blue shirt. It had to be him. Either that or he’d stood me up, and that wasn’t an option I wanted to contemplate.
I was on the verge of approaching when he turned to face me. We stilled, and my breath caught at the sight of this tall, muscular man holding a bouquet in his hand. He looked like a hero straight out of a Meghan Hart romance novel. And when he smiled, a dimple winking at me from his cheek, I honest to god thought I might go weak in the knees.
His smile was tentative as he approached. “Olivia?”
His voice matched Connor’s, but… I shook my head, momentarily at a loss for words.
Wow.
He was so handsome, so…imposing. Intimidating, but not in a way that I’d ever question my safety. More that I feared for the safety of my heart.
His smile fell, and he retracted the bouquet. “Sorry. My mistake.”
“No.” I reached out for him. “Connor, wait. It’s me, Olivia.”
He stilled, and I realized then that his eyes were scanning me, drinking me in. They were a pale gray color, reflecting honesty and happiness.
“These are for you.” He smiled, handing me the gorgeous pink peonies. My favorite.
“Thank you.” I lifted them to my nose, grateful to have something to do with my hands. “They’re beautiful.”
“So are you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, meeting my gaze with a sheepish grin. “Wow, um, that was cheesy. Must be all those romance novels you’ve been making me read.”
“Making you?” I swatted at him with the bouquet, but he dodged it with agility. “Who finished the latest Meghan Hart book first, huh?”
We both laughed, some of my earlier anxiety fading. This was Connor—the man I’d joked with over the phone. The man I’d shared my hopes and fears with. He knew me better than any man I’d ever met, and he was really here. And man was he hot—so much hotter than I’d even imagined.
“Do you want to sit?” He gestured toward an empty table.
I nodded, surprised when he moved to pull out my chair. Was he for real? I was tempted to pinch myself because this certainly seemed too good to be true. “Thank you.”
“I’ll grab us some coffee. Latte with oat milk, right?”
I smiled, surprised he’d remembered. “Yes. That’s perfect.”
Just like you. Hot. Attentive. Considerate.
“Do you want anything to eat? A muffin or a cake pop?”
I shook my head. I was worried enough about keeping my cool around him. I didn’t want to add another thing to the mix.
He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
He turned for the counter, and I took the opportunity to study him. In fact, I found that I couldn’t stop staring at him. So, I might as well take the chance to watch him shamelessly. His dark hair, those broad shoulders, that perfect butt.
I glanced down at myself, wondering what he saw when he looked at me. Was I what he’d expected? Taller, perhaps? When he’d first spotted me, he’d seemed pleased. But maybe that was just wishful thinking.
“So how was Unbreakable?” I asked when he returned to the table with our drinks. I needed something safe to talk about. I needed some familiarity.
“You haven’t read it yet?” He tsked.
I lifted a shoulder. “I’ve been busy organizing stuff for the panel.”
Though I hadn’t known who was on the invite list. Seth had assigned that task to Nicole. He’d also become increasingly aggressive about my dad’s memoir, though I’d never promised anything.
I took a sip of my coffee. “Thank you for this, by the way.”
“Excuses. Excuses.” Connor smiled. Gah, he was so freaking handsome. “You need to read it. It’s her best book yet.”
I cupped my drink, the warmth seeping through the mug and into my hands, filling me with a deep sense of contentment. “And you’re an expert on her books, huh?”
“Well, I have read two-thirds of them now. So, yeah.”
My jaw hung open. “Seriously?”
He chuckled. “Yep. I’m kind of addicted.”
And a whole lot sexy.
“Well, that’s…a twist I didn’t see coming.” I sipped my coffee.
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankle at the knee. “You know, for a minute there, I thought you were going to stand me up.”
I laughed. “I, um—” I glanced down at the cup, staring into what was left of the foam art as if it held all the answers. “I considered it.”
“Do you wish you had?” His voice was gravelly, sexy.
I shook my head, some of my hair falling over my face. “No.” My voice was quiet as I tucked my hair behind my ear. “I’m glad I came. What about you?”
The corner of his lips tilted. “So am I.”
I’d spent countless hours emailing with Connor and talking to him on the phone. But nothing could’ve prepared me for the reality of seeing him in person. And my brain was still trying to reconcile the version of Connor in my head with reality. It was—he was—a lot to take in. And I wasn’t sure my heart was prepared for it.
Chapter Ten
Connor
“So, what are you hoping to do while you’re here?” Olivia asked in that sweet voice of hers.
You.
I shook my head to clear it, though I couldn’t deny the idea was appealing. She was… God, she was gorgeous. Those full hips and luscious breasts. And her long legs. I wanted to explore her, to get lost in her curves.
“I’m open to ideas. Other than the panel, I was mostly planning to bum around the beach. I haven’t ever really taken a vacation.”
“Ever?” Her eyes went wide. “You’ve never been on a vacation?”
I shook my head, not wanting to dwell on the reasons for it. She knew my family history, and that was more than I could say for any other woman I’d dated. And since joining the SEALs, I’d rarely taken leave. Apart from a few weekend trips to a beach house with some of the guys from the office, I’d been focused on work.
“Well, that is completely unacceptable.” Her expression was so stern, I nearly laughed. “And we’re going to have to remedy that immediately.”
“Oh yeah?” My tone was playful, teasing.
“Yeah. Consider me your personal tour guide.” She drained the last of her coffee, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.
I clutched my thigh beneath the table, fighting back the urge to kiss her. The evening was winding down, and the coffee shop would be closing soon. But I wasn’t ready for our time together to end. Somehow, despite countless hours on the phone, numerous emails and texts, and spending the evening together, we still hadn’t run out of things to talk about. I wasn’t sure where we went from here, but I knew I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Definitely not tonight and perhaps not any time soon.
When an employee made a show of bussing a nearby table, I said, “You want to get out of here?”
She nodded and stood, and I placed my hand on her lower back without even thinking. When I pushed open the door, I got a whiff of her scent—vanilla and sugar, like cookies. Like heaven. I wanted to lick her from top to bottom. I wanted to eat her up and go back for seconds. Thirds.
We stood outside on the sidewalk, and she kept glancing around as if debating what to say. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision, meeting my eyes. “Do you want to come back to my place?”
Fuck yes. I licked my lips, wanting more than anything to kiss her. Play it cool, Cujo.
“I’d like that.” I smiled. “I grabbed an Uber to get here from the hotel. I can order another or…”
“Don’t be silly. You can ride with me. I’m just over here.” She pulled out a set of keys, and the lights blinked on a Range Rover.
Swanky. I tried not to let my surprise show as I followed her over to the car.
I settled into the leather seat and laughed when a song by Taylor Swift blared through the speakers. Olivia quickly reached for the controls, flustered as she attempted to turn it down or switch it off.
“Sorry about that.” She flashed me a sheepish grin.
“Someone was rocking out,” I teased, trying to imagine it. The sunroof open, windows down, her singing along to Taylor Swift. The image made me smile.
Luckily, traffic was relatively light, and we made it to her house in about twenty minutes. Along the way, she pointed out various landmarks, and I wondered if she was nervous. She wasn’t usually quite so eager to fill the silence when we spoke on the phone. And her grip on the steering wheel told me she wasn’t as calm as she’d have me believe.
“This is me,” Olivia said, pulling into a driveway.
Cute, charming, welcoming were the first words that came to mind when I saw her Craftsman. I followed her up the stairs to the front door, small lights dotting the path. The grass had been recently trimmed, and all it was missing was the white picket fence and two-point-five children. I had a brief vision of a child with Olivia’s doe eyes and chestnut hair swinging from the tree out front and shook it away. What the hell?
“Come on in.” She pushed open the door, and I followed her inside.
The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, giving me a sense of home I’d never experienced as a child. There had been no fresh-baked cookies or nice furniture. There had been broken lamps and overturned tables. Bruises and tears.
A larg
e picture window overlooked the front yard and original wood details had been preserved, even if some of the house had been modernized. I heard the scratch of claws on the wood floor and a meow before Olivia said, “Uh oh.”
I glanced to where she was looking and saw a beautiful, but large, gray cat sauntering toward me with a haughty air. Though, didn’t all cats have that same attitude—imperialistic?
“And you must be Luna.” I grinned as she brushed against my leg. I reached down and scratched her chin as she purred with contentment.
“Wow. Um, okay. I didn’t see that coming.” Olivia shook her head as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. “She usually runs from strangers, especially men.”
“Clearly she recognizes my voice.” I turned to Luna. “Don’t you, Lunakins?”
Olivia laughed. “That must be it.” She kicked off her shoes, and I followed suit. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“Some water would be good.”
She turned for the kitchen, while Luna climbed on the armchair by the window and proceeded to groom herself. I walked over to the fireplace, curious about the framed pictures on her mantel. Olivia walking along the beach as a little girl, with a woman I assumed was her mother.
“Wow.” I picked up one of the frames to get a closer look. “Is this you and your dad?”
It had to be—they had the same eyes, the same chin, the same smile.
Olivia set the drinks on the coffee table but stilled when she saw what I was holding. “Yes.”
“You guys really go all out for Halloween, huh?” I chuckled, amazed by how realistic her father’s football uniform was. He’d really committed—with pads and sweat dotting his forehead. And Olivia was in one of his arms, decked out like a true Hollywood Heatwaves fan.
She frowned. “Wait. Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” I set the picture back on the mantel. Was I missing something?
“You don’t know who my dad is?”
I glanced at the photo again, then back at her. “Should I?”
She regarded me a moment before a smile spread across her face. She seemed incredibly pleased by my response. “Nope.”
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