Dirty Sweet Cowboy

Immediately two of the waitstaff are fussing over the table, pouring champagne and coffee simultaneously, delivering plates of fresh fruit and crepes, piles of bacon and sausage .

“Oh my gosh,” I blurt out .

“Help yourself,” he chuckles. “I was never going to be able to eat all this myself, but you know how the Fairmont is. They always overdo everything ."

“Oh, of course,” I stammer, trying to act as though I know anything about the Fairmont at all. Keeping my head down, I stack my plate with bacon and sausage, two crepes with a large spoonful of strawberries and blueberries, and then whipped cream on top of that .

He is smiling at me, I know it. I try to keep my head down, but I feel it .

“You never were shy about eating, Ava,” he says softly .

I gasp, looking up at him in surprise. And now I kind of wish I hadn’t, because there are those sky-blue eyes again, piercing me like lasers. Looking right through to the center of me. I feel like he can read my mind, like he probably just replayed my naughty morning dream like a YouTube video .

“Of course I remember you,” he continues. “I could never forget such a beautiful face .”

“I didn’t think you recognized me,” I admit. I place my fork on the table and grab a coffee cup, hoping to sort of hide behind it. The coffee is rich and dark. I feel it flowing through the center of me, warming me immediately .

“You do look different,” he smiles. I watch the tip of his tongue wet the bottom of his upper lip as he leans back in his chair. His eyes trace my outlines, as concrete as if he were touching me .

“Different?” I repeat, setting the coffee cup back down and taking the champagne flute in my trembling fingers. It is sweet and tart, the perfect counterpoint to the coffee .

Slowly his lips close, and he bites gently on his lower lip. He takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose before answering .

“You’re stunning now. You were just a girl then, but now you’re a breathtaking woman .”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to make a move. Is he really talking about me ?

“I’m sorry that I didn’t get to see every step in the transformation,” he continues. “But the Marines were very good to me. Transformative, you might say. And of course, our families …”

I nod, suddenly aware that this whole conversation could go right back down that path again, back to all that drama. The tension between him and my brother. The feud that was so tangible, it ended decades-long friendships, just like that .

“Well, I was just a kid then. I don’t think I even remember what the feud was about,” I lie .

He narrows his eyes, leaning forward and plucking a slice of nectarine from the bowl .

“I don’t remember either,” he also lies .

“Okay then,” I say, silently agreeing not to talk about it .

“So will you spend the day with me ?”

Immediately, I’m shaking my head. “Spend the day with you? Oh, no, I couldn’t! I still have a lot to do here… I have a lot going on… and, um, well you know my friend Bea is here too …”

His hand slides across the tablecloth, capturing my wrist between his fingers. He holds it lightly, as though he’s found a bird and simply wants to inspect it. I’m helpless .

“You should spend the day with me,” he says confidently, giving me the sort of smile he’s probably given a thousand other girls. “We’ll have a lovely time. If that goes well, we can have a lovely time tomorrow. Perhaps we can spend the summer together. Having… a lovely time .”

My heart is racing, my breath frozen in my chest. I don’t know what to say, at all, but my skin buzzes with electricity .

“There are still other speakers…” I mumble unconvincingly .

“They’re all terrible .”

“And I haven’t even given away any resumes yet .”

“Then you won’t be missing any interviews .”

“True,” I admit .