My mouth opened.
Then shut again.
My brain scrambled for words, but my heart was pounding too loud to think clearly. I could still feel the heat of Mr Salvatore’s body standing so close, his cologne weaving into the air between us like a net I didn’t want to escape.
God, why was this so hard?
Just say no. Say you’re busy. Say you have plans. Say you’re tired or allergic to candlelit dinners and emotionally available men.
But I didn’t say any of that.
Instead, I gave him a slow, almost reluctant smile. One I couldn’t help but mean.
He grinned back like he’d already known I would say yes, like he’d seen it in my hesitation, my silence. And maybe he had.
“Come on,” he said gently, gesturing with his hand. “Let's go.”
He didn’t offer his arm. He didn’t rush me. He just walked beside me, a quiet presence with long strides and an easy rhythm, while the last of the workers filed out through the temporary gates.
I clutched my tablet to my chest like it could shield me from the guilt curling i
