God, he has a dimple in his chin too.
“You okay down there?”
Calm down, Ellie. Get a grip. You are a widow and widows don’t ogle men. Just answer him for Pete’s sake!
I grin like the idiot I am and try to act normal. “Sorry, guess I’ve been waiting so long my brain short circuited. You are correct, we should’ve went through the drive-thru.”
“Nikolas,” he says, giving me the panty-melting grin once more.
“Hmm?”
Panty-melting? Really, Ellie? What the hell is wrong with you? This Adonis has struck me dumb, that’s what. I need to call Caroline as soon as I’m outta here, we gotta work on my meds.
“My name’s Nikolas Jensen. Most people call me Nik though. It’s nice to meet you.” He’s still grinning, his hand held out for me to shake.
When I slip mine into it, it just about swallows it whole. His hands are huge! Josh’s weren’t near this big.
Right, Josh. Don’t forget Josh.
“I’m Ellie Cochran. Nice to meet you too, Nik,” I tell him politely with a small smile.
There, getting my wits back. Maybe.
“Ellie Cochran, very Southern belle. I like it.”
The way my name sounded coming out of his mouth was sinful. “Thank you,” I whisper, a thrilling tremor running through me as I pull my hand from his.
This needs to stop. These feelings are so foreign to me now, I’m not sure I like them. I turn back around.
I feel him lean a little closer, his large presence sending a shiver up my spine—not the bad kind either. “I’m in here every day and I haven’t seen you in here before. Are you just visiting?” he asks.
My Southern manners won’t let me be rude and not respond, so I’ll just try to keep things friendly, but not too friendly. Turning to face him again, I smile tightly. “Yeah, I’m only here for a short stay. Just taking a few weeks off. I guess you live here?” Shit, I didn’t mean to keep the conversation going.
“Yep, been here all my life. I work just a few blocks to the west of here at SCAD.”
Does the man ever quit grinning? It’s making it damn hard not to smile back. He gets more gorgeous with every second that passes. He’s so tall—I’d guess close to six-five—and lean. Not skinny, just foot after foot of strong, trim muscle. I bet he wears a thirty-two waist in his jeans, thirty-four at the most. The length would have to be at least a thirty-eight.
My heart clenches remembering how I would know that. I’m a wife. No, I was a wife. It was part of what I did, buying Josh’s clothes. He wore a thirty-eight, thirty-two.
I take a deep breath to clear my head. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with SCAD. What is it you do?”
“It’s the Savannah College of Art and Design. I teach furniture design there.”
“Oh wow, that sounds neat. I guess I never thought about the fact someone has to design our furniture. All my stuff is antiques. I guess you do more modern pieces?”
There I go again asking questions, but he’s so nice to look at I may as well enjoy the view while I can. And his voice could melt butter it’s so deep and smooth.
Nice, Ellie, real nice. You sound like a desperate teenager. What would Josh think? Josh is dead, remember? Like I would ever forget. Now quit acting like a crazy person, he’s trying to talk to you.
“Mostly, yeah, but I love antiques too. The skill that was required to make them is far beyond what most craftsmen have today. I have quite a mix of old and modern in my own place. I insist my students learn the old techniques of furniture building as well as the new, more efficient, methods,” he says with some passion.
I actually let my real smile come through a bit. “Sounds like you really love what you do, congrats on that. Many people aren’t that lucky.”
“Thanks, I consider myself really lucky in that aspect.” His grin turns into a breathtaking smile as he stares down at me.
Damn, he’s gorgeous.
“Ma’am? Are you ready to order?” the barista yells at me.
I jump, and Mr. Gorgeous scowls over my head at said barista.
Giggling like some love-struck teenager, I turn around and order. I’m ready to get my frappuccino and get away from this man that’s causing all these mixed-up feelings in me. He has me a whole lot more unsettled than I’m comfortable with.
I’m just finishing up when I hear a commotion behind me, but I ignore it, digging in my purse for my money. When I look up at the cashier to give it to him, his eyes are as wide as saucers. He looks like someone just ran across his grave, as Aunt Maggie would say.
What the hell? Did I slip into one of my spells or something?
Then Mr. Gorgeous backs up, pressing his back into mine, pinning me to the counter. I open my mouth to yell at him to get off me, but he grabs one of my arms.
“Be quiet and don’t move.”
Of course, I don’t listen and take a peak around his shoulder. There are two men wearing all black with masks over their faces standing in front of the only way in or out of this place. Both have a gun in each of their hands and they’re pointing them right at us.
Looks like I may die today whether I want to or not. Thing is, now that it’s staring me in the face, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to.
If This Is Our Last Night Page 5