Page 41 of Instigator

Wish—Aidan—slides behind the wheel. “You’re okay?” he asks me. “Not freaking out?”

“Only a little bit,” I confess.

“Not a lot bit?” He smiles, his tongue trapped between his teeth, and I giggle, releasing some of the pent-up tension coiled tight inside me.

“Nope.”

“Good.” His blue eyes sweep over my face again, frank appreciation on his features, before he clears his throat and reaches for his seat belt.

He’s a safe driver, taking care to check his mirrors and stop all the way at every sign. His hands are exactly at ten and two. And when he brakes at a red light, every fucking time, he glances at me, as if he can’t believe I’m sitting in his passenger seat.

Me either.

We reach the bistro, and miraculously, there’s a parking space front and center. I huddle into my coat as the icy January wind hits me. There’s still snow on the ground from a storm a few days ago, dirty and gross, and when I stumble on a slippery patch of ice, his hand darts to my elbow to steady me. My arm tingles where he’s touching me, even through my coat and his gloves.

Aidan opens the door for me, and I’m greeted by a gush of hot air. My face heats, and I pull at the knot in my scarf, trying to get some breathing room.

My favorite waiter bustles over to us. “Ms. Ramos. Hello. Dining in today?”

“Yes, please. Two.”

We’re halfway between lunch and dinner, so the pub is fairly empty.

“Would you like your usual table?”

“Thanks, Jamie.” I muster a half smile, my cheeks flaming. I don’t know why I’m embarrassed. Wish knows I’m here all the time.

What he doesn’t know is how much I work here. How I camp out, taking advantage of their kindness. The staff have never complained about me, at least where I can hear, mainly because of how well I tip them. They aren’t my friends, no matter how much time I spend here. I have to remember that.

I slide into the booth side of my favorite table, and Aidan takes the chair across from me, sitting diagonally so we’re not in each other’s space. I’ve never understood couples—or anyone else—who share the same side of a booth when they don’t have to. I like my personal space bubble, thank you very much.

Jamie bounds over to us with two glasses of water, a customer service smile on their face. “Would you like your usual, ma’am?”

I glance at Aidan, suddenly embarrassed.

“Yes, she would,” he says with authority. “I’ll have the same.”

“You don’t know my order,” I protest weakly.

He cuts his eyes to me, one eyebrow cocked. “Don’t I?”

“Okay, fine.”

“We’ll get that out for you right away,” Jamie promises.

“I had the salad the other day,” he continues once we’re alone again. “I was here for lunch the day of our meetup. And, um… I think you were here too.”

“This place is like my second office. I didn’t see you, though. Sorry.” I offer a weak smile. I was too wrapped up in my nerves and insecurities to pay much attention to anyone else.

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t know me from Adam.”

“I mean, I can call you Adam if you’d like.”

He grins, which makes me grin too. “No, thanks. I’d like you to call me Aidan. Or Wish. It’s up to you.”

“It’s going to take some time getting used to it,” I admit.

But Aidan just keeps smiling at me. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”