That’s when she realized there was something worse than asphyxiation in public—he didn’t recognize her.
Damn. In a single heartbeat, she was reduced to that shy, quiet, socially inept girl she’d once been. Talk, she ordered herself. Say something. But when she opened her mouth, the only thing that came out was a squeak.
And a puff of powdered sugar.
“It’s okay,” he said, and started to turn away.
This surprised her. The cocky, wild-man teenager she’d once known would’ve sent her a lazy smile and talked her into whatever he needed.
But it’d been over ten years and she supposed people changed. She’d certainly changed. For one thing, she was no longer that quiet, studious dork with the foolishly romantic heart. Nope, now she was a suave, immaculately dressed professional…She kept her legs hidden and decided this could be a good thing. His not recognizing her meant that she could make a new first impression. She didn’t have to be a nerd. She could be whatever she wanted. Or more correctly, whatever she could manage to pull off. “Wait!” she called out to him. Maybe a little too loudly.
Or a lot too loudly.
Half the bakery startled and stared at her. And then in the next beat, everyone seemed to find their manners and scurried to look busy. Lowering her voice, Callie gestured to the free chair. “Sit,” she told Tanner. “It’s all yours.”
He kicked the chair out for himself and sprawled into it. Sipping his coffee, he eyed her over the steam rising out of his cup, all cool, easy, masculine grace.
She tried to look half as cool but she wasn’t. Not even close. And she had a problem. A twofold problem.
One, the table was tiny. Or maybe it was just that Tanner’s legs were long, but no matter how she shifted, she kept bumping into a warm, powerful thigh beneath the table.
And two, his eyes. They were the color of rich, dark, melted chocolate.
God, she loved dark, melted chocolate.
But he had no recollection of her. A definite blow to her already fragile, powder-sugar-coated self-esteem. She wished she didn’t care.
But it was the damn high school crush.
How did one get over a crush anyway? Surely the statute of limitations was up by now. After all, he’d devastated her and hadn’t even noticed.
To be fair, he’d had other things on his mind back then. She’d been a quiet, odd freshman, and he’d been a senior and the town’s football star. She’d loved him from afar until he’d graduated and left town. She knew his story was far more complicated than that but her poor, romantic heart had remained devastated by his absence for nearly two years. Then in her last year of high school, Eric had moved in across the street. He and Callie had become a thing. They’d stuck, and by their last year of college, she’d had their wedding completely planned out—and she did mean completely, from the exact color of the bridesmaids’ dresses, to the secluded beach where they’d say their vows, to the doves that would be released after they did…
Yeah, there was a reason she understood her client brides as well as she did. She’d once been a batshit-crazy bride too. But she’d honestly believed that Eric would be the perfect groom and the perfect husband. After all, he’d spent years making her happy.
Until the moment he’d stood her up at the altar.
“You okay?” Tanner asked.
“Sure.” Just lost in the past. But she was done with the past and took a bite to prove just how okay she really was. Bad move. Turns out it was hard to swallow correctly once you’ve already choked. She then promptly compounded her error by gulping down some hot coffee on top of the sore throat and lump of doughnut that wouldn’t go down and commenced nearly coughing up a lung.
She felt the doughnut being removed from her hand and then the coffee. Tanner had stood up and was at her side, patting her back as she coughed.
And coughed.
Yep, she was going to die right here, in yoga capris and fake Uggs.
“Hang on,” Tanner said, and strode to the front counter of the bakery.
From the dim recesses of her mind, she saw that he didn’t bother with the line, just spoke directly to Leah behind the counter, who quickly handed him a cup of water.
Then he was back, pushing it into Callie’s hands.
Nice and mortified, she took a sip of water, wiped her nose and streaming eyes with a napkin, and finally sat back. “I’m okay.”
Tanner eyed her for a long moment, as if making sure she wasn’t about to stroke out on him, before finally dropping back in his chair.
She opened her mouth but he shook his head. “Don’t try to talk,” he said. “Every time you do, you nearly die.”