Maybe I’m not the only one affected.
“So you took over the preschool from your mom?” Autumn asks. The conversation is still steadily in the category of small talk.
“Don’t tell her that,” I joke with a huff of laughter. “She still says it’s hers.”
That gets a broader smile from Autumn. “I mean, her name is on it. So … Ann’s ABCs and123s Preschool.”
“Well, she would kill me if I change the name.” Again she smiles and lets out a small laugh. I know this small town likes to talk, but I have no idea what all she knows about my past. “I have my master’s in education but I never thought I’d run a preschool. That was my mom’s thing.”
“A master’s?” she asks and doesn’t hide the surprise. “I almost went back for mine before I got the editor position.”
“You like that? Working for the town paper?” I could see Autumn doing anything at all. She’s personable and charming, but smart and driven. It doesn’t take more than a handful of conversation to know that.
“Well, like you, I never thought I’d be an editor. I was always a math and science kind of girl, but I love it. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
It’s easy to smile at her response. Everything between us is easy all of a sudden and I’m grateful for that.
“What were you going to do with your master’s?” she says.
Shrugging, I admit, “Administration of some sort was the long-term goal. But when Chase was born and his mom passed, I wanted to be more hands on. I had to be, really. With my mom’s vision going … it just made sense to take over the preschool and be close to him.”
Autumn’s tone holds her condolences. “I’m so sorry to hear about her passing.”
“Thank you,” I reply automatically. It’s been years since I said goodbye to my ex-wife, but my throat still gets dry whenever she comes up in conversation.
“Does Chase ever talk about her?” Her question catches me off guard but it’s the genuine concern that resonates with me.
“Occasionally. He has some questions, but he’s still so young and never knew her.”
“It was cancer, right?”
“Yeah,” I say and my voice is tighter than I’d like. I loved Candace and I wish things could have been different, but I know Chase and I make a duo she’d be proud of.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, her voice gentle and comforting.
“What about Henry’s dad?” I ask her to change subjects and move to lighter topics.
“We’re on really good terms. We should have only ever been friends, to be honest.”
“Just didn’t work out between you two?” I already know that’s what the town says. They were young, their son a blessing that came from a disastrous pair.
She shakes her head, setting down her mug and pushing it away gently. “We actually broke up amicably before I found out I was pregnant. We tried to make it work but it we’re much better off not being …” she trails off and scrunches her face in distaste rather than finishing.
“And no boyfriend now?” I say, leaning forward. The way my voice lowers yet is still full of hope causes that blush to come out full force.
Shaking her head, she asks me the same, “And you don’t have a girlfriend, Mr. Morgan?”
“Not yet I don’t.” I let the statement add to the brewing tension between us.
There’s a moment of silence and then I say, “So, two single parents … meeting up at a coffee shop on Saturday afternoon.”
“Oh, the scandal,” Autumn jokes mockingly with a broad smile.
“I’m just saying … us single parents, we have to stick together.”
“Is that right? Is that why you asked me out?” she asks and it’s the first bit of flirtation, real flirtation from her since we sat down. The nerves have finally settled as another couple slips by and heads into the coffee shop with the telltale ding of the two bells above the door announcing their entry.
“I thought it was because you tipped over my coffee but—” Covering the embarrassment on her face with both hands, her reaction stops me from finishing the thought.
“You’re a cute mix of sweet and shy,” I say and I don’t know why the confession slips out of me, but it does.
She doesn’t blush, though, like I thought she would. Her smile stays put and her eyes flash with something. Something that tells me it’s okay to keep pushing her.
“You think I’m sweet?”
“I know you are, but what do you think of me?” I dare to ask.
“Handsome. I think you’re just my type, Mr. Morgan. Tall, dark and handsome … I would put good money down that you’re just about every woman’s type.”
A rough chuckle leaves me as I reply, “But I don’t want to be out here with any woman. I only asked one to coffee.”
Setting her mug down on the white rattan table, she wraps both her hands around the cup. “Speaking of which, mine is almost gone.”
“Well, you have been clinging to it like it was going to save you from having to make conversation.”
“Did not,” she says, the beautiful smile never fading even with her rebuttal. “Although I’m glad I was able to get you a coffee. Since I did spill yours and all.”
“Well … actually, I asked you out for coffee so I could ask you out for dinner.”
Her laugh in response is light and the sound is music to my ears. “You are something else, Trent.”
“As are you, Autumn.” An asymmetric smile pulls up on my lips. It doesn’t escape me that she doesn’t respond to the invitation. My pulse picks up and I swear there’s a hard thump in my chest when she looks away for a moment.
“We could do tomorrow night?” I offer her. It’s a holiday weekend and we have Monday off for Labor Day. Tomorrow is perfect for a real date.
“Tomorrow? So soon?” she asks as if it’s a joke, but I think there’s something real about her hesitation.
“Is there a rule against having a dinner date right after a coffee date?”
“There are lots of rules against that,” she answers with all seriousness. Before she can deny me, I slip my hand over hers, which is still laying innocently on the table. There’s a spark, a heat between us that’s met with a small gasp from her lips. My dark umber against her fair skin. My thumb runs soothing circles, but all it does is stir up that heat, making it hotter and hotter.
“When I want something, I go after it. And I want you.”
“Trent,” she says and my name is a plea on her lips. She lets me lift her hand in mine and I take my time, letting my intentions be clear as I plant a single kiss on the inside of her wrist. The smell of her sweet perfume and the little sigh that slips from her, a sigh of coveted lust, does things to me that a coffee date never should.
I pull away easily enough, but Autumn still seems caught in a trance.
“Tomorrow night?” she asks after a moment, her voice low and full of the sexual tension that resonates in every inch of me.
I only nod and in response, she gives me a sweet smile and agrees, “Tomorrow night.”