My concern melted away at the sincerity in his eyes. “Not to brag, but two, actually. Front and back.”
“That’s literally what bragging is, but I’ll allow it.” He grinned. “Honestly? I’m jealous. I used to think living in some overdecorated loft in the urban jungle was peak living, but it turns out I missed all the trees. The air is different here.”
“Funny enough, the trees have a purpose.”
“Smart-ass. My grandparents are in Florida too. I’ve been meaning to visit them.”
“Me too.” Except it was hard to get time away from the diner and afford the tickets. I needed to go eventually because my grandparents were in their eighties and not getting any younger. Though Grandpa joked that spending decades at the grill and inhaling all that grease had preserved his organs.
Amos’s expression turned serious. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry into your finances or anything. It’s just that I noticed there are two competing decor styles. And it’s not easy living on a diner salary. My parents always struggled.”
My eyebrows shot up. I wouldn’t have guessed that, given that they lived in a nicer part of town, but I supposed you never really knew what was going on in someone’s life.
“I always thought it would be cool to live in the city.”
“It had its appeal for a while.” His normally upbeat demeanor dulled.
“But not anymore?”
He shook his head. “The living room at my place was barely big enough to do yoga.”
We finished the last bites of dinner in a comfortable, contemplative silence. There weren’t many people I felt comfortable being quiet around. I was glad to count Amos among them.
Amos stood and collected our plates. “You cooked an incredible dinner, so I’ll clean. By the way, thanks for ruining mac and cheese for me.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.
“You’re more than welcome,” I said cheerily.
I followed him over to the kitchen and found Amos far too handsome with the sleeves of his sage-green sweater pushed up to his elbows while he hand-washed the glass bowl I’d put the salad in.
We chatted about our favorite mac and cheese variations while he loaded my dishwasher and I packed up the leftovers.
“Oh! I should’ve mentioned this earlier while we were talking about all my amazing ideas.” He dried his hands on the towel I kept slung over the oven door handle. “Now hear me out.”
His tone put me on guard. “Okay…”
“I want to approach my mom about adding your cheese to a special as a trial run.”
My heart thudded against my ribcage. “Have Mystic Rind at Sparky’s?”
He took a step closer. “Yes.”
“There’s no way. How would that even work?”
“I only need to give the name of your cheese brand. She doesn’t need to know who makes it. I’ll tell her it’s locally made by someone I went to high school with and is properly licensed. I assume you are, since you pitched your dad.”
“Of course.” My mind raced as I thought through the possibility. A part of me screamed that the idea was absurd, but another voice quietly wondered if it could work. I couldn’t believe Amos would put himself out there like that for me.
“She always likes to highlight local vendors on the menu, so does Dad— Mmph.”
Within seconds, I had Amos backed against the counter, caged between my arms, as I pressed my lips to his. God, how I’d missed the feel of him against me. It had been barely overa month, but I’d thought about Halloween every night since. I’d touched myself at least a dozen times while fantasizing about what it would’ve been like if we hadn’t stopped. If he hadn’t removed the silly wig and glasses, or I hadn’t blurted out his name.
Now seems like a pretty good time to find out.
EIGHTEEN
AMOS
I held on to Mickey for dear life because if I didn’t, my knees might’ve given out. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been kissed so thoroughly. But it was more than that. Mickey held and kissed me like that was the end game instead of some perfunctory smashing of lips and tangling of tongues as a means to getting off.
