It’s only when I’m standing directly in front of him, head tilted back to look into his face, close enough to be able to lean my head against his chest and have him wrap his powerful arms around me, do I realize what a bad idea this was.
Our breathing quickens, his eyes growing stormy. A chill tears through me as he accidentally-on-purpose brushes his arm against mine. It’s like muscle memory, my body remembering exactly what to do around his.
My knees dip, my mouth waters, and I fight the ache in between my thighs as he looks down at me like it’s me he wants for dinner.
“What if I throw breakfast in afterwards?” he prods. “Does that make me, I mean it, more appetizing?”
That’s all it takes, that one little hint of arrogance, that brings me back to reality.
I flip him a smile. “It makes it less, actually.”
His own smile wavers. “I get that you might dislike me.”
“Dislike you? Try again. It’s much more than that.”
I’m not sure that’s true—I don’t know how to put into words how I feel about him. I just know that right now isn’t the time to try.
“I want the chance to explain,” he says. “Give me the chance to sit down and talk to you.”
“You have the same chances of getting the chance to explain as I do of getting what every woman wants.”
“What’s that?”
I lean in, like I’m going to tell him a secret. “Being able to eat all the pizza and not gain an ounce.”
I start to head to the back as his chuckle fills the room. “That was good. I’ll give you that.”
I shrug and keep walking.
“You can at least let me apologize.”
The authority in his tone, like I owe him something, stops me in my tracks. I whirl around to face him. “You don’t deserve a chance to apologize to me.”
“I didn’t say I deserved it,” he says earnestly. “But I would love the opportunity to do so.” He forces a swallow, my eyes glued to his lips. “I would appreciate the chance to get to see you again.”
The snicker that comes from me is unexpected by both of us. “So charming. I forgot how good you are with words.”
“Does that mean that’s a yes?”
“That means that’s a no,” I smile. “That means I’m not about to let you come in here and look at me with those bright blue eyes and make me forget what it felt like to have you rip my heart out.”
“I didn’t mean to do that, Ellie.”
“Don’t act surprised,” I laugh angrily. “There’s no way you thought I just went on with my life after you left. I dated you for four years, Ford. And after what we went through . . .”
It’s me gulping now, the anger so palpable that I almost have tears in my eyes. My hands shake as I remember the fight that ensued after he told me he was enlisting.
“You left me,” I repeat, shaking my head. “So leave me again. There’s the door. Should I hold it open for you this time?”
I motion behind him, my eyes trained on his.
He takes me in for a long moment, a lifetime of memories washing over his features. With one final smile and an ease in his shoulders, he heads to the door. I sigh a breath of relief.
“What time should I swing by next week?” he asks.
“What are you talking about? Was I not perfectly clear?”
“You were,” he says simply. “So do you get in around eight? Nine?”