I leaned forward and gave the driver the address of a small diner I frequented. The kind of place no one would expect me—or someone like Graham—to end up at tonight.
The cab rolled to a stop in front of the greasy spoon, its neon sign flickering faintly: Sweet Cream. I climbed out without hesitation, the air carrying the faint scent of fried food and sugary desserts. Graham hesitated, glancing up at the unassuming exterior, his brow furrowed.
"Where are we?" he asked, his voice cautious as he stepped out of the car. "I've never been on this side of town."
Feigning mock surprise, I widened my eyes and pressed my hands to my cheeks in an exaggerated gesture. "You don't say!" I teased, a laugh bubbling up as I turned and headed toward the door.
Graham followed, his footsteps trailing close behind. When I stepped inside, the warm hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes filled the air. Jenny, the server who knew me well, looked up from behind the counter and grinned.
"Hey, girl! It's been a while," she called, her eyebrow quirking when she noticed Graham standing awkwardly behind me. "Date?"
"Friend," I corrected quickly, though my cheeks warmed at her insinuation.
"Sure," she said, her smirk growing as she grabbed a damp rag and led us to a small table near the window. She wiped it down with practiced efficiency before straightening. "Your regular?"
"Two, please," I said, sliding into the booth.
Jenny leaned closer as she scribbled on her notepad, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He's so hot."
I felt my cheeks flush deeper as she winked and disappeared into the kitchen. Graham sat across from me, his eyes scanning the modest diner. The faded red vinyl booths and black-and-white checkered floor were a far cry from the sleek ambiance of the restaurant we'd just left.
"No menu?" he asked, amusement flickering across his face.
I smirked, nudging him lightly under the table with my foot. "You're not that special. I know people, too—people I'm not even related to."
He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing. "I see."
"Jenny was a client of mine last year," I explained, leaning back in my seat. "I helped her find her daughter, who'd been placed in foster care. Ever since, I've made it a point to come here. Plus, they have the best ice cream in the state."
He tilted his head, the tension from earlier fading as his smile grew. "Best ice cream in the state? That's a bold claim."
"You'll see," I said, leaning forward with a grin. Around us, the quiet hum of clinking dishes and murmured laughter created a cocoon of warmth.
"Alright," Graham said, a skeptical smile tugging at his lips. "We'll just have to see."
I toyed with the edge of my napkin, the fabric soft between my fingers. "So—"
"So?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"You said you'd explain," I prompted, my tone firm but not unkind. "So start talking."
He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly. The hesitation in his eyes told me he'd been hoping I'd let it slide, but that wasn't happening. Not with everything I'd already been through—I couldn't afford more surprises.
"Alright," he said, his voice quieter now. "I was engaged to Brooke."
I stayed silent, my gaze steady as he began.
"Her father works for a Fortune 500 company. Brooke and I were high school sweethearts; we even went to college together. When we graduated, I proposed. At the time, I thought we wanted the same things." He paused, his hand moving to the back of his neck, rubbing it as though trying to loosen a knot. "I wanted to go to law school, but her dad had other ideas. He wanted me to join his business. I applied to law school anyway—didn't tell anyone until I got in. I don't think they thought I'd actually make it."
His jaw tightened, and his gaze drifted to the window. "She stuck around for a while, but then...she met Shane. Said they were just friends. Until I came home one night and caught them—" He broke off, shaking his head as though to dispel the memory. "That was the end. But she still acts like I'm some toy she can pick up whenever she wants because of who her dad is."
The weight of his words hung between us, heavy and raw. I swallowed hard, the tightness in my chest spreading. "I'm sorry that happened to you," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Something about the way his expression softened pulled at my heart. Without thinking, I reached across the table and took his hand. The warmth of his skin startled me, and his thumb massaged one of my scars on my hand. I almost pulled back but his fingers intertwined with mine, anchoring me there.
For a moment, it felt...normal. Like we were just a couple sitting in a diner, holding hands. Nothing complicated. Nothing messy.
Jenny's timing, as always, was impeccable. She appeared with two towering hot fudge sundaes, the chocolate sauce gleaming under the diner lights. "Enjoy," she said with a wink before retreating.
I didn't hesitate, grabbing my spoon and digging in. The first bite was cold, sweet, and perfect. Graham didn't move, his gaze fixed on me.
"What?" I asked, frowning slightly as I paused mid-bite.
He smirked. "I love a girl who can eat. Too many women these days act like a carrot stick is a full meal."
I raised an eyebrow, swallowing before replying. "You're used to dating girls, not women."
The laugh that burst from him was genuine and unrestrained, his head tilting back slightly. It was the kind of laugh that made me grin despite myself.
We fell into a comfortable silence, our breath visible in the crisp air. After a moment, he glanced at me, his expression softening.
"You asked earlier about my family," he said. "It's just me, Ben—my younger brother—and my mom now."
I tilted my head, encouraging him to continue.
"My dad passed away when I was a kid," he said, his voice steady but quieter. "It was... sudden. He was out for a run and collapsed. Heart attack."
The weight of his words hung in the air. I watched him carefully, noting how his hands tightened briefly at his sides before relaxing again.
"I'm sorry," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He offered a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks. It's been a long time, but it shaped a lot of who we are. Mom held us together. She's amazing, really. And Ben—well, he's the best."
I nodded, picturing the close-knit family he described. "Sounds like you all are really close."
"We are," he said, his tone warming. "Ben's a good guy. His daughter adores him. He's been through a lot but somehow always stayed optimistic. That is why I cannot get my head wrapped around him and Wendy."
I smiled faintly, though my mind wandered briefly to Beau, and the memory twisted in my chest. People always say the nicest things about someone until the cracks begin to show.
Graham shifted, catching my attention. "What's on your mind?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, forcing a small smile. "It's just... nice hearing about your family. Every little piece of information helps."
He studied me for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as though he didn't quite believe me. But he didn't press, and instead, we stood there, the quiet night stretching between us.
"Yeah, the case. I forgot for a second." He said.
The hours slipped by as we talked, the warm glow of the diner's neon sign casting soft light onto our table. The buzz of conversation around us had faded, leaving only the occasional clatter of dishes as the staff began winding down for the night.
Jenny eventually strolled over, rag slung over her shoulder, hands on her hips. "Hate to break it to you two, but we're closing up. Some of us have early mornings," she said with a teasing smile.
"Guess we lost track of time," I said, grabbing my bag and standing.
Graham chuckled softly as he reached for his wallet. "What's the damage?"
Jenny waved him off. "It's on the house tonight. Just come back soon, okay?" She shot me a knowing look before heading back to the counter.
As we stepped outside, the cool night air greeted us, carrying the faint scent of damp pavement and distant car exhaust. We lingered near the diner's entrance, unwilling to part ways just yet.
"She's nice," Graham said, nodding toward the diner.
"She is," I agreed, tucking my hands into my jacket pockets. "And I guess she likes you too, since she comped your meal."
He smirked. "Good to know I made the cut."
I smiled at Graham, my thoughts snagging briefly on the stark contrast between him and the brother he'd described. Shaking it off, I grabbed my bag and slid out of the booth.
Jenny gave us a knowing grin as we said our goodbyes. She winked at me, and I rolled my eyes, laughing softly as we stepped out into the brisk night air.
The wind cut through my jacket, making me shiver. Before I could rub my arms for warmth, Graham stepped closer, draping his arm over my shoulder. His warmth was immediate, and I stiffened slightly at first, then relaxed.
"Cold?" he asked, his voice soft.
"A little," I admitted, fishing my phone from my pocket. "But I'm fine. I'll just call a cab."
He held up a hand to stop me, pulling his own phone from his pocket. "No need. The least I can do is make sure you get home safe."
Before I could protest, a sleek black car appeared as if conjured, rolling to a stop at the curb. He opened the door for me, and I slid in hesitantly.
"My address is the same as the office," I said as he settled in beside me. "I live on the second floor."
Graham nodded, tapping the details into his phone. "Ralph, meet Cricket," he said, gesturing toward the driver. "Ralph's my assistant—he helps me get around the city and with a ton of case research."
"Nice to meet you," Ralph said with a polite nod.
"Assistant-slash-driver-slash-partner in crime," Graham added with a grin. "If I wasn't paying him, I'd call him my best friend."
"Thanks, boss," Ralph replied dryly, a hint of amusement in his tone.
The soft hum of the tires on the pavement blended with the distant sounds of the city, but my mind was miles away, tangled in the chaos of the evening. The blur of streetlights danced on the glass as I leaned my head against the window, letting the cool surface ground me. Everything had moved too fast, left me breathless and unsteady.
The car slowed to a halt, and my building loomed ahead. Without waiting, I pushed the door open and stepped into the crisp night air, eager to retreat into solitude. The door thudded shut behind me, but Graham's footsteps weren't far behind.
"Wait," he called, his voice warm but insistent.
I stopped, turning reluctantly, my arms crossing instinctively as I faced him. The tension in my shoulders betrayed my unease. "I don't date much," I blurted, the words sharper than intended, hanging awkwardly in the cool air.
Graham froze a few steps away, his hands lifting in a gentle gesture of surrender. His lips curved into a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I can tell," he said, his voice low and steady. "But I'm not trying to push you into anything. I just want to make sure you're safe."
The sincerity in his words brushed against something fragile inside me, and I found myself nodding. Wordlessly, we walked the short path to my door, the quiet between us thick with unspoken things.
I fumbled for my keys but hesitated, My hands were swore. I have a hard time bending my fingers around it to get it into the lock. With all of that, the weight of the night pressing on me. When I turned to face him, I couldn't quite meet his gaze. My eyes darted to the ground, to the shadows stretching across the pavement.
"Hey," he murmured, his tone like velvet. His fingers brushed my chin, light and tentative, coaxing me to lift my head. The warmth of his touch spread through me like a slow, steady flame.
"You look down too much," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You're too beautiful to hide."
My breath hitched, heat rushing to my cheeks as his words settled over me. My body felt anchored by his touch, unable to move. His dark eyes held mine, searching, waiting, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away.
And then his lips found mine.
The kiss was soft at first, a gentle question that sent a spark racing through my veins. But as his hand slid to cradle my cheek, the spark ignited into a wildfire. Heat unfurled in my chest, a delicious, dizzying sensation that left me breathless. My hands, seemingly acting of their own accord, found their way to his shoulders, anchoring me to him as the intensity deepened.
Time blurred, and the world narrowed to the press of his lips, the warmth of his body, and the intoxicating mix of his scent—cologne, leather, and something uniquely him. The kiss was more than just desire; it was a connection, raw and consuming, that made me forget everything else.
When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, his breath mingling with my own in the chilled night air. My heart raced, and I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, his expression a mix of tenderness and awe.
"I—" I started, but the words tangled on my tongue.
"You don't have to say anything," he whispered, his thumb brushing softly along my jawline. "Just… don't hide from me, Cricket."
His words hung between us, heavy with meaning, as I stood there, caught between the fire he'd kindled and the uncertainty still lingering in my heart.
The car door shut with a soft thud, and Graham paused, leaning out the window. His eyes met mine one last time, a glint of something unspoken flickering in them.
"I'd like to see you again," he said, his voice low and deliberate.
I nodded, unsure of what to say, but before I could turn toward the door, his voice rang out again, chasing after me as the car began to roll away.
"Not for business!" he called, the words carried on the crisp night air.
My heart thudded against my ribs as I turned back to the door, fumbling with my keys. I dropped them.
"Fuck!" I said to myself. By the time I reached the stairwell, my legs felt unsteady, my thoughts a whirlwind. Each step felt heavier than the last, my hands trembling and week as I finally reached my apartment.
The key wobbled against the lock, refusing to slide in. I pressed my other hand against the doorframe to steady myself, drawing in a shaky breath. With effort, the lock clicked, and I stumbled inside, the door shutting with a dull thud behind me.
My back slid down the door, and I sank to the floor, the cool surface grounding me. The quiet of the room felt like a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. I raised a hand to my lips, still tingling from the kiss, then to my cheeks, which burned from the warmth of his touch.
My pulse raced, each beat a reminder of the way his voice lingered, the way his presence seemed to fill every corner of my mind. Sitting there on the floor, I let the memory wash over me, an intoxicating mix of excitement and disbelief that left me breathless.