Page 50 of Snatched

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“Hey,” she says, breath just a little uneven.

“Hey.” My voice is lower than usual. Rougher. I clear my throat. “You look…”

Don’t say it. Don’t flirt. Don’t compliment her. Don’t?—

“…really good.”

Her breath catches.

Her cheeks flush.

“Thanks,” she says faintly. “So do you.”

We both sit, a little too carefully, and maybe too aware.

The silence hangs between us until she breaks it with a shaky laugh.

“So…this is where you chose to…hang.” She grins.

I rub the back of my neck.

“Yeah. I, uh… didn’t really think it through.”

She lifts a brow. “Uh-huh.”

The waiter arrives like he’s been waiting for the exact perfect cinematic moment.

“Drinks?”

Elena opens her mouth, hesitates, and looks at me.

Then orders a cocktail with gin, lavender, and infused honey.

Not shy or timid. It’s a solid choice.

“Same,” I say, because my brain isn’t working at full capacity.

When the waiter leaves, she folds her hands on the table, watching me with careful, fragile amusement.

“So this isn’t a date,” she says lightly.

“No,” I agree. “Not a date.”

“Just a hang.”

“Yes. A hang. Like you said.”

A beat passes while her foot brushes mine under the table, soft and accidental.

Both of us freeze, and her eyes flick to mine.

I feel it hit me, low and hard in the chest.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “Maybe a tiny bit of a date.”

I swallow, hard.

“Maybe,” I murmur.

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