My debit card cried a little as it was swiped, and my stomach growled with the realization that eating out would be a thing of the past for a few months, but the smile on my face never faltered. Okay, that wasn’t totally true. There were quite a few cuss words uttered as I lugged the potted prize toward my car. Her leaves smacked me in the face with every step, but as I passed a small Irish pub, my obstructed gaze drifted through the windows and I came to an abrupt halt.
No way. No freaking way.
I gently slanted the ceramic pot to one side to clear my view.
Bowen—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Nice Ass himself—was sitting alone at the bar, sipping from a highball glass.
A smile immediately split my lips.
It had only been a few days since our run-in—okay, collision—at the courthouse, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’d thought about him in that time. I—along with the majority of the female population—was a sucker for the broody, mysterious type. Really, it was something biological and completely out of my control.
But it wasn’t like we’d exchanged phone numbers or anything. What could I have done? Call Katherine, get his contact information, and show up at his front door like a crazy stalker?
Um, no, thank you. I was not that desperate. Also, Katherine didn’t have his address.
I should have kept walking.
I should have left the man alone to have his drink in private.
I should have forgotten about him altogether.
Unfortunately, I’d never been good at doing what I should.
Come on. It was rather fortuitous for our paths to cross again. Twice in the same week. I could have gone to any plant shop that day. I could have parked on the other end of the street or been too hypnotized by Margret Monstera to have noticed him at all.
Who was I to deny Lady Luck?
At the very least, I could pop my head in and say hello, maybe buy him a drink as an apology for accidentally assaulting him the last time we’d seen each other. It was, after all, happy hour—he couldn’t very well tell me to fuck off during such a joyous, half-price time of day.
Hitching Margret up to sit on my hip, I made my way inside with a surprisingly small number of side-eyes for a woman who was holding a three-foot-tall house plant.
“Bowen?” I said as I approached.
I couldn’t see his face, but his muscular back went taut beneath his pale-blue button-down. His drink hung frozen in midair, but he made no move to look at me.
Shuffling to his side, I set Margret on the bar and then slid onto the stool beside him. “Hey, I thought that was you.”
Slow and steady, he turned his head, his honey-brown gaze finding mine with an eerie calm. He said nothing as he stared at me for several beats. Clearly, the talking portion of this chance encounter was going to be left up to me—much like the last.
“I’m Remi Grey. The woman who accidentally attempted to give you a nose job outside the courthouse on Monday.” I made a show of inspecting his face. “Some of my finer work, I’d say.”
One blink. That was all he gave me before he became unstuck and tipped the glass to his lips. I couldn’t quite tell if he recognized me and wished he didn’t or if he didn’t and hoped to keep it that way. But I’d already made it that far; no use in tucking tail now.
“It’s so crazy running into you again. Are you waiting for someone? Girlfriend, boyfriend, worst enemy?” I internally groaned. I was terrible at this stuff. “Well, luckily, I didn’t actually run into you this time, but you know what I mean.”
His jaw ticked as he set his glass down, never removing his long, slender fingers from around the drink. Also never looking at me again, and short of a ragged breath which I pretended wasn’t completely rude, he didn’t reply, either.
Ah. The strong, silent type.
Clearly, my only course of action was to continue babbling. “What a small world, huh? I’m almost never on this side of town, but there was a plant shop having a colossal going-out-of-business sale, everything fifty to sixty percent off. Can you believe it? Who can resist a good bargain? Not this girl.” I paused and swayed my head from side to side. “I guess I technically still spent more than my rent, but I got this rare beauty—and to see you again. So I’d say time and money well spent.”
Much to my surprise, Bowen let out a loud cough. “More than your rent?” He peered around me. “On a weed that’s half dead?”
I gasped playfully and used my hands to cover either side of a white-and-green leaf. “Shhhh, she’ll hear you.”
