Page 64 of At First Catch

I miss my turn into the employee lot and have to circle back around. Which is embarrassing considering I’ve driven this road since I was sixteen.

“Get it together,” I mutter.

And then I see him.

Nolan stands near the fuel dock speaking with two contractors while wind moves through dark hair that already looks disheveled despite it barely being noon.

His sunglasses rest on top of his head today.

The sight of his eyes fully unobstructed from this distance should not affect me this much.

He glances toward the parking lot at the exact moment I pull in, like he sensed I was arriving.

The second he sees my SUV, his posture subtly changes.

I climb out while trying very hard not to appear eager. This fails because Nolan is already walking toward me before I fully close the door.

“I didn’t expect to see you.”

The words are so low and rough that they send a shiver of heat down my spine.

I cross my arms loosely. “I’m technically working.”

“Mm.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I think you’re trying to convince yourself.”

The marina breeze lifts strands of hair across my cheek again, and for one suspended second I swear Nolan almost reaches for me before stopping himself. His hand lifts. Stops halfway. Drops again. That almost touch stays with me longer than if he’d actually brushed my cheek.

“You busy?” I ask.

His gaze stays fixed on me.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“What you want.”

Neither of us appears interested in making good decisions.

“I brought the revised permit packet,” I say carefully, lifting the folder in my hands.

Nolan’s mouth curves. “That sounds disappointingly professional.”

My lips part in a soft, involuntary laugh.

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll buy you lunch.”

I blink.

“That sounded suspiciously date-like.”

“Did it?”

“Yes.”