“So I wanted to see Dakota. It’s no big deal.” He shrugged. “We were friends. There’s nothing unusual about that.”
His mother’s expression softened. She rubbed his arm. “I think it’s safe to say you two were more than just friends, honey. And no, there’s nothing unusual about you being nervous to see her again.”
“I didn’t say I was nervous,” he interjected.
“No, you didn’t.” She grabbed his hand. “But those sweaty palms, your rapid breathing, and the way you keep rubbing the back of your neck are telling the story loud and clear.”
“It’s ninety-two degrees out here. Everyone has sweaty palms.” Dexter pulled his hand from hers, wiping them both on his board shorts. He swallowed hard, ignoring the rapid beat of his heart, his dry mouth, and the quivering in his gut.
“You should’ve taken my advice and gone over to Oliver’s to see her. Gotten all of the awkwardness of that first meeting out of the way—without the entire town’s prying eyes.” She glanced around before returning her attention to him. “In a town the size of a postage stamp, you two were bound to run into each other eventually.”
Dexter sighed, not acknowledging his mother’s I-told-you-so. But she was absolutely right. According to the town gossip chain, Dakota had been back nearly a week. Plenty of time for him to stop by and say hello. But he hadn’t. And so here he was, preparing himself for public castigation by the woman who’d once meant everything to him.
“Dex, honey, don’t let this opportunity to reconnect with Dakota pass you by. She means too much to you.”
“That was a long time ago.” Dexter frowned. “We’re different people now.”
“Yet your feelings for her don’t seem to have changed.” His mother offered an encouraging smile. “Perhaps she feels the same. Only one way to find out.”
He glanced at the spot where the two women had stood. They were gone.
Another missed opportunity.
“They stepped inside Lila Gayle’s booth,” his mother offered, as if she’d read his thoughts. “I believe Dakota is helping her out, like old times.” She grinned. “Haven’t eaten breakfast yet, have you?”
“No, ma’am.” Dexter shook his head.
“Now seems like as good a time as any.” His mother winked, then checked her watch. “I’m headed over to the first aid tent to start my shift.” She called over her shoulder, “Give Dakota my regards.”
Dexter took a deep breath, readjusted the brim of his baseball hat, and leaned against the light pole a stone’s throw away from the Lila’s Café booth. His heart thudded in his chest and his pulse raced at the thought of reconnecting with Dakota. He’d blown it with her. He couldn’t change that. But that hadn’t stopped him from wishing he could go back in time and handle things between them differently. Or from wanting her in his life again. If not as lovers, then at least as friends.
There was a solid chance Dakota wouldn’t be interested in either. But now that they were both back in their small community, he didn’t want things to be awkward.
He’d give it a few minutes. Then he’d head over and order breakfast from the woman who still sent his heart into overdrive without even trying.
* * *
Dakota was surprised by how easily she fell back into the role of server at Lila’s Café, a job she’d held during her sophomore through senior years of high school. There was something comforting about meeting people here, with a wooden countertop between them. Where they couldn’t pull her aside and ply her with questions.
The breakfast crowd had slowed down a bit by the time she’d taken over to give Lila Gayle a break. Which made Lila’s booth a good place to hide for the rest of the morning.
“Dakota, would you be a dear and get me a refill of coffee?” Mrs. Anderson asked after they’d had all of the expected conversation.
Great to see you.
You’re looking a bit thin.
Sorry about your mother.
Her mother had been gone five years. Still, that last bit hit her hard, no matter how many times people had expressed their condolences over the loss of her mother.
“Right away, Mrs. Anderson.” Dakota refilled the woman’s mug, then turned to replace the carafe.
“I’d love a cup before you put that away.”
The familiar voice made her pulse race. Still, when she turned around, seeing him felt surreal. She inhaled deeply and clenched the hand at her side as she bit back the resentment rising in her chest.
“Hello, Dakota.” His mouth curved in a soft smile, while his dark sunglasses shielded his eyes. “It’s good to see you.”
“Dexter.” She forced the name caught in her throat past her lips. Grabbing a sleeved paper cup, she filled it with coffee. “What can I get for you today?”
“What’s good?” he asked in the same low, sexy growl that once had the power to turn her inside out.
Not today, Satan. Not today.
“Today’s special is French toast.” She pulled a pad and pencil from the pocket of her apron with all of the indifference she could muster.
“Not what I asked.” He didn’t touch the laminated menu in front of him. Instead, he slid off his shades and set them on the counter. His gaze was like hot lasers melting her very core. “I’d like to know what you think is good.”
Not running into the jerk who dumped me while I’m wearing a grease-stained apron. That would be good.
She scribbled quickly on her notepad, then met his gaze. “Waffles, sausage patties, an extra side of bacon, and hash browns. Coming right up.”
His eyes widened with surprise and then he chuckled. A broad grin spread across his annoyingly handsome face.
Why couldn’t he be balding, sporting a spare tire, and missing a few teeth?
Dakota ripped the ticket off the pad and clipped it to the stainless-steel order wheel. She spun it toward Leo, who was manning the grill, then turned back to Dex.
God, he’s handsome.
More than she remembered. But then, he’d been nineteen when she saw him last. But now…She drew in a shaky breath. Her knees wavered and a warmth, which she preferred not to acknowledge, traveled the length of her spine.
Dexter’s dark-brown skin looked smooth and warm. His dark eyes glinted with amusement. His sensual lips, framed by a well-trimmed mustache and a neat beard, quirked in a half smile. And he smelled divine, like citrus and sandalwood.
If it weren’t for the small matter of hating Dexter Roberts’s guts, she’d be inclined to put him on a plate, sop him up with a warm biscuit, then wash him down with an ice-cold glass of sweet tea.
Dakota shuddered inwardly. The quiet, confident, magnetic appeal Dexter had possessed in high school—what Sin had dubbed “the Dex Factor”—was clearly still intact. He’d only been there five whole minutes and he was already driving her insane. But she was older now. Wiser. And in case she’d forgotten the dire consequences of trusting a handsome man with a disarming smile, Marcello had certainly reminded her.
“Your order will be up shortly. More coffee?”
“More coffee would be great.” He slid the cup toward her. “But what I’d really like is a chance to talk.”