Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(136)

I rubbed the bump on my head, still peering down at my lap as I sat back on the chair. The object that was set on the table caught my eye. It was then that I remembered somebody helped me by lifting the table, so I could get my bag out.

I turned my head slightly. “Thank you so—” I stopped breathing.

Sitting on the table was the original hardback copy of Crave Me. My book. There was only one person that would have that copy. I didn’t have to look up to know who was standing in front of me. My heart pounded out of my chest, and I swear it echoed in the corner of the room.

How after all these years did he still have this effect on me?

I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady my thoughts. I felt him place his hand on top of mine. Soothing the bump on my head that suddenly seemed miniscule, compared to the emotions that were coursing through me.

“You alright?” he said with the same southern drawl that I still dreamt about after all this time.

He haunted my dreams almost every night.

“I don’t know,” I blurted.

He chuckled, moving my hand, and leaning over the table.

“Let me take a look.”

I shut my eyes, feeling the simple touch of his hands on my head. Everywhere. All consuming. He let his hands linger for what felt like forever, but I knew it was only seconds. I instantly missed his touch, his warmth when he backed away.

“You’re going to have a nasty bump. Best if you get some ice on that when you get home.”

I nodded not being able to form words. I was as nervous as I was the first time I met him. For some reason, it felt like I was about to see him for the first time, and that confused the hell out of me. I knew everything about this man.

I had seen him at his best, and at his worst.

I took a deep breath, opening my eyes and locking gazes with him for the first time in over three years. He looked better than I remembered. He was definitely one of those men that got better with age. He was wearing a white tight shirt that emphasized every last muscle on his solid chest and firm arms, like he lived at the gym again. His tattoos only accenting his bad boy facade, I-don’t-give-a-f*ck kind of look that only Austin could ever pull off.

“Hey, Daisy,” he greeted, bringing me back to the present.

Taking me in as much as I was taking him in.

His blue eyes that I hadn’t seen in God knows how long were bright and shining. With a hint of mischievousness in them, gazing at my once again vibrant purple hair. With a predatory regard, he eyed me everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to look at me the most.

“You still take my goddamn breath away,” he rasped, barely above a whisper.

I blushed, peering back down at the book. Breaking our heated connection.

“I see you read it,” I spoke, looking at the worn binding and pages.

“I more than read it. I lived it.”

We locked eyes again.

“Seeing it through your eyes though,” he paused, slightly shaking his head, “was like experiencing it for the first time,” he admitted with so much sadness in his tone. My eyes began to fill with tears.

“It was a long time ago, Austin. I’m not that person anymore, and from the looks of it… you’re not either.”

“You’ll always be my Daisy. My girl with the tattoos and purple hair,” he said, reaching for a lose strand, twirling it around.

I smiled. I couldn’t help it.

“You look good.”

“You look beautiful.”

I chuckled, smiling wider. He immediately caught my expression in the air and placed it near his heart. Causing my stomach to flutter.

“Why are you here, Austin?”

“For you,” he simply stated.

I swallowed hard. Trying like hell to govern my breathing.

“I’d love for you to sign my book. In fact, it would mean the world to me.”

I grinned, grabbing a pen from my bag. He handed me the book, holding onto it for a second longer, grinning.

I opened it up to the title page and signed, “Your best friend, Daisy.”

He laughed as I handed it back to him.

“Can I buy you lunch?”

I hesitated, and he noticed.

“We’re best friends, remember?”

I scoffed out a laugh. “Only if I get to choose the place.”

“Baby, I’d follow you anywhere.”

“Still quite the charmer I see.”

“Only with you.” He grabbed the heavy bag off my shoulder. “Lead the way.”

“I actually came with my assistant. I was going to take a cab home. I don’t live far from here.”

“You’re in Oak Island,” he stated, confused.

I nodded, not elaborating.

“Well then I guess I’ll be driving, Miss Daisy.”

I laughed again. Damn I missed him. I hadn’t laughed or smiled this much in years. He always brought out the best in me.

We drove in silence on the way to the restaurant up the road. Music played just above a whisper. It was a small diner but it was on the beach, and I loved going there with my computer to write. Something about the sound of the waves and the ocean breeze, took me away to another place and time.

I could sense that Austin wanted to reach over and grab my hand like he used to every time we were in the car together. His thumb tapped on the steering wheel instead, while a cigarette was placed in his other hand that was hanging out the window.