“Please do,” he answers quickly, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Fancy meeting you here. No coffee at home?”
I scoff as I sit. “Are you kidding? It’s the only thing in my house right now. This is cup number two. Plus, I’m currently addicted to these cranberry scones. All thanks to you, I might add.”
His mouth curves into a lopsided grin that makes me want to cry a little. It’sthe smile.The one every romance novel describes. That heart-stopping grin that makes you fall in love with the one wearing it. I look away before I do something really stupid, like confess my love for dark and delicious things again.
“Do you have class this morning?” Eamon asks, snapping me back into reality.
“Yes, at eight; I’m afraid I can’t stay long,” I tell him regretfully. Stupid classes. Who needs college anyway?
“I do as well. Want a lift?” he offers, and my heart flip flops.
“Oh, I usually take the bus…”
“I see.” He nods slowly. “I understand if you’re still uncomfortable riding with me. Just thought I’d offer.”
I don’t miss how his shoulders droop, almost as if he’s disappointed. Truth be told, Iwantto ride with him, and the fear I normally feel around men is nowhere to be found.
“Actually,” I start, “I think I will take you up on that ride. The bus is so crowded at this time of day.”
I peek up at him through my lashes and see that lopsided grin plastered on his perfect face again.Swoon.
“Alright, then,” he says, closing his book. “Let me pack up and we’ll go.”
I take that time to pinch off a piece of the scone and pop it into my mouth. I chew slowly as I watch him methodically gather his books and place them in his backpack. Once everything is packed away, he stands and slips his arms through the straps. The movement causes his shirt to stretch across his broad chest, and I’m momentarily transfixed—and jealous of those straps that get to cling to him like that.What I wouldn’t give to be a backpack strap right now.
We walk out of the coffee shop to his SUV, and I’m surprised when he reaches around me and opens the passenger side door. He’s so close that whatever manly scent he possesses envelopes me completely. I inhale deeply.
“Sorry for the mess,” Eamon says sheepishly after I climb into the seat. “I had practice early this morning. I usually just toss everything in the car and go.”
I smile at him. It’s not a mess at all, but the scent is more concentrated here. He shuts my door and rounds the front of the car to the driver’s side. He slides in and starts the engine before making sure I’m buckled up. Once we’re on our way, he asks me about the play’s progress.
“It’s coming along,” I tell him. “I have all of the costumes designed and half of them are already in physical form. I’m struggling to figure out a way to create the costumes for the dance scene while staying within Dr. Andrew’s budget though. I swear, the man thinks this is Broadway!”
“I can’t honestly say I know what scene you’re referring to,” he admits,shocking me.
“What?” I gape at him. “You’ve never seen Beauty and The Beast? How is that even possible?”
Eamon rubs his jaw and chuckles. “No, I haven’t. I didn’t watch many movies growing up. By the time I came to America, cartoons weren’t exactly on my watch list.”
“We’re going to have to remedy that immediately,” I say decidedly.
“Are we?” he asks hopefully.
I pause, realizing what I just said, and laugh nervously. “I mean, I supposewedon’t have to remedy that. You could always watch it with the soccer team…”
Eamon laughs heartily, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’d much rather watch anything with you than the team.”
My cheeks heat, and the butterflies in my stomach start fluttering like crazy at the thought of being curled up on my couch with him, lights low, watching Beauty and the Beast.
“If that’s what you want, of course. I don’t want to force you into anything,” he adds quickly.
I’m touched by his thoughtfulness. He has no idea how much it means to me that he’s giving me the choice. I consider making it a group thing but decide against it. The more I think about it, the less I want to expose him to my group of friends. At least right now.
“Actually, it’s more like I’m forcing you into watching a Disney movie. You can say no,” I offer.
“Hardly, lass. I need to be up to date when I go see your work on stage,” he says, turning his gaze on me briefly.
“You’re going to come to the play?” I ask incredulously.
