Page 48 of Fang Fatale

Not intensely.

Not possessively.

Just...

Watching.

For one impossible moment, I wonder what it would feel like if he reached across the counter instead of standing safely on the other side of it.

The thought startles me enough that I quickly slide the pastry box across the counter.

"There."

He takes it.

"I should go."

"Paperwork?"

He sighs dramatically.

"Paperwork."

"Thanks for the existential company."

He hesitates.

Like he wants to say something else.

Instead, he tips his head and leaves.

I watch his reflection disappear from the front window, blurred by sunlight.

Hope.

That's the closest word I have for the feeling he leaves behind.

Clover is waiting when I turn around.

Arms folded.

Grinning.

"You've had..."

She pretends to count.

"...three coffee dates with him now?"

"They weren't dates."

"Birdie."

"I mean it."

"You're blushing."

"I'm warm."