“I can’t believe how much has changed in five years,” Finn said.
“Any regrets?” She tilted her head. Her grin said she wasn’t worried about his answer.
“Only one.”
Her brows knotted. “What is it?”
“That I can’t possibly show you how much I love you.” He pressed his lips to hers, his heart so full it could burst. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”
THE END
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. . . Cole steadied the disposable cup in his prosthetic hand, a task made more difficult by the lack of feeling. It was a delicate balance. Too loose and the coffee would slip from his grip. Too tight and the cup would crumple. He’d worn his favorite prosthesis, a lime-green mechanical arm that offered superior dexterity. Still, the lack of sensory feedback added major limitations. Soon he would have a state-of-the-art prosthesis that could actually feel, though this technology was still in the developmental stage.
He got the usual stares from the coffee shop patrons. Some were probably curious about his neon hand. But a few might’ve recognized him, despite his low-tucked cowboy hat.
Satisfied his coffee cup was secure, he used his “real” right hand to tuck a napkin in his pocket and retrieve his cell phone. He scanned his latest messages as he turned from the condiment counter and started toward an empty table next to the door.
Intent on his phone screen, he didn’t notice the person entering the shop until he collided with her. While the coffee lid should’ve prevented any spills, it was no match for the reflex tightening of his mechanical hand. The cup collapsed, popping the lid off to send coffee splashing to the floor, splattering everything in its path.
Embarrassed, he put his phone away and surveyed the damage, an apology spilling from his mouth before he even got a good look at his victim. “So sorry about that. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
He wondered how much money it would cost him to make up for his moment of carelessness. What was happening to him? He was losing his edge. His painstaking attention to detail had always been his trademark, but lately he’d made a number of serious and costly mistakes… enough to keep his attorney agitated.
“Could this day get any worse?”
His gaze jerked to the source of the feminine voice, a sight that set his emotions whirling. Glossy brunette hair fell in soft waves, framing a pair of deep-brown eyes and a pert nose. His pulse quickened with instant attraction. She held her arm forward at an awkward angle, her sleeve dripping with coffee that had drenched most of a once-white cardigan, parted to expose a garishly-bright pink shirt. Mouth gaping in a surprised O, she stared at him with her bottomless eyes, which appeared to grow larger by the second.
From this close proximity, she must’ve recognized him. He waited, with dread, for the fawning to begin. She was pretty—that much was for sure. Any other day, he’d have taken advantage of the situation, flirting and asking her out. She would know in advance it would be a single date, part of his one-and-done mantra. But today he wasn’t in the mood to play the usual games. Especially since excited whispers were spreading around the coffee shop, every eye trained their direction. Phones came out as customers shared their celebrity spotting on social media.
“I’m very sorry, ma’am.” He tipped his Stetson and handed her a business card, hoping to settle the matter before they drew any more attention. “I’ll be glad to pay for your cleaning bill. Just call me at this number.”
Her brows drew down, chin jutting forward, and the card was left dangling from his fingers.
“Is this your way of making a move on me? Because it’s not going to work.”
He blinked at her. “What?”
“Do I have a sign around my neck that says, ‘Easy target?’”
A genuine smile slid onto his face for the first time that morning. “I’m looking at your sign right now, and it clearly states, ‘Don’t mess with me until I’ve had my coffee.’”
Her cheeks flushed, a grin playing on her lips. He was pleased to have put it there.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of anything, but you won’t believe what just happened.” Her arms flailed with emotion, flinging coffee from her dripping sleeve. “Some guy in the parking lot just propositioned me. At eight o’clock in the morning! Can you believe that? All I did was say a polite hello. I guess I need a sign that says, ‘Not interested!’”
She’s feisty! I like it!
“If it’s any consolation, the coffee stains ought to ward the creeps off for the rest of the day.”
Her mouth tugged up at the corners. “That’s a good point.”
She seemed so genuine—a rarity in his experience, outside his close circle of friends. And more importantly, it seemed she didn’t recognize him. He had to find out.
“I’m sorry about spilling on you. You see, I was holding my coffee in the wrong hand.” He thrust his artificial arm forward, still holding the crumpled paper cup, confident she couldn’t fake a lack of recognition when he pointed out the bright green prosthesis he was famous for.
“No, it was my fault. I was looking up at the menu when I came in.” Her gaze skimmed past his arm without pausing, settling on her own soggy one.
It was hard to believe, but she seemed oblivious to his identity. He warmed inside, feeling a bit more inclined to flirt. “Perhaps, it was destiny.”
“Probably so.” She groaned, looking down at her clothes. “I need to go home and change. But I can’t, because I have a meeting at work in thirty minutes.”
His hopes fell. She recognized me, and now she’s fishing for money.
With a resigned sigh, he retrieved his wallet and pulled out some folded hundred-dollar bills. “Here’s five hundred. Go buy some new clothes. There’s bound to be a dress shop close by.” His tone came out coarser than he meant.
“I’m not taking that.” She backed away, staring at the money like it was a poisonous snake. “For goodness’ sake, this sweater is ancient. And this is my least favorite work shirt. I’ll be happy to throw it away.”
She doesn’t want money? Is it possible she really doesn’t know who I am?
