“That sounds healthy. I’m starting to see how you and Mateo happened.”
I cut a look at him and scowl. “Hey.”
He shrugs as if to say he’s not sorry.
“Be nice to my husband.”
“What will you do if I’m not?” he teases.
“I’ll tell Adrian you grabbed my ass,” I state smugly, before adopting a more polite smile as the sandwich maker approaches the counter to take our orders.
Rafe takes a step closer, then I feel a very distinct grope.
I swat his hand away, glaring. “Seriously?”
“Hey, if I’m gonna get blamed for something, I might as well do it,” he states. Taking one more step forward, he then proceeds to order—for both of us, without asking what I want.
“Should we get something for Adrian?” I ask, before we scoot down the counter.
“He can order his own food if he’s hungry,” Rafe states, stepping in front of me and moving down the line.
I glance back over my shoulder at the door, then peek out the windows along the storefront, but I don’t see Adrian yet. I’m only used to it being me and Adrian when we come out like this; Mateo isn’t big on going out to eat, so most of the time Adrian is my lunch date.
My focus drifts back to my new lunch date. Despite some of the clear similarities I noticed between Rafe and Mateo, the differences make me wary. I trusted Rafe in Vegas because he was all I had, but now that I’m safe at home with my husband, he feels like a dangerous interloper—despite Mateo’s assurances otherwise.
The cashier smiles warmly at Rafe. “Can I interest you in something sweet to go with your meal?”
“What’d you have you in mind?” he asks.
She averts her eyes, then darts a look up at him. “Do you like cookies? We have world-famous chocolate chip cookies.”
“World-famous, huh?” he asks, looking at the short rack of wrapped sweets. “Well, I guess we’ll have to try those, won’t we? Ring me up for two.”
Her smile dims slightly and she glances over at me, then she nods and pushes a couple of buttons.
“Actually, can we get a third chocolate chip cookie,” I add, glancing at the cookie rack. “And is this oatmeal raisin?”
She nods.
“And an oatmeal raisin.”
Rafe gives me a side-eye as he withdraws his wallet from his back pocket. “Someone is taking ‘eating for two’ very seriously.”
“I’ll eat all the cookies I want, Mr. ‘I take my protein intake very seriously,’” I tell him, swiping the two extra cookies.
He smiles. “Aw, you remember my direct quotes. I knew you missed me.”
“I didn’t miss you. At all. I was so happy without you here; I practically forgot your name.”
Rafe shakes his head as the cashier cuts me another weird look. “That’s not very nice. Do you think she’s being very nice to me, Cadence?”
The cashier seems surprised he paid enough attention to read her nametag, then she flushes with pleasure and smiles up at him like the asshole just hung the moon. “No, she’s not. And after you bought her all these cookies.”
“Right? What a jerk.”
I flush, scowling at Rafe. “These aren’t even for me!”
He cocks his head to the side, feigning sadness. “I don’t have to take this abuse, do I, Cadence?”
She tries so hard to bite back her grin, her gaze drifting to the cash register as she absently traces the buttons and not-so-absently moons at Rafe.
I roll my eyes, grabbing my cup off the countertop and going over to fill it up with lemonade. He eventually stops flirting with the cashier and takes our tray of food over to a table. As I’m putting the lid on my cup, I feel him move up behind me. The masculine scent of him wafts around me as he reaches past me for a plastic lid. Heat rolls off his body and scorches my back. Awareness prickles along my neck and my heart hammers an uncomfortable beat. I want to scoot away, but I’m trapped between Rafe and the wall; I can only stand here until he moves, or back right into him.
“Cashier thinks you’re a big meanie,” he teases.
“Cashier wants to take you in the back and show you what kind of sweets she really has to offer,” I toss back.
He doesn’t bother feigning modesty; he merely smirks and grabs a straw before finally moving out of my personal space and heading over to fill his cup.
I go back to the table he picked out. A spike of relief hits me when I see Adrian walk in the door. I feel like running over and hugging him. I won’t, since that would make him super uncomfortable in any environment, especially in public, but I want to.
Instead, I offer a warm smile and hold out the oatmeal raisin cookie. “Here you go.”
He takes it, raising his eyebrows in confusion. “Thanks?”