Act natural. Be calm. Breathe normally and stop staring!

I can’t help it. I haven’t seen Connor McLean in fourteen years. I’ve literally lived more of my life since he left this town than when he grew up in it. How can I not stare at him, study him, soak him in? His black hair is short and neatly styled, his chiseled jaw is covered in a layer of scruff that he never wore when he was eighteen. It looks good on him though. My eyes travel over his tight, built frame. The military must have been like milk for Connor - ‘cause it did a body good. Am I drooling? I subtly graze my fingertip over the corner of my mouth to be certain as I smile up at him.

Does he recognize me? Is that fire flickering behind his emerald eyes for me? The girl whose heart he broke so long ago? Or for the woman he thinks he’s never met?

“We’d love to,” Connor’s deep voice sends a vibration through my flesh, through my muscles and buries in my bones. He sits beside me and his friend takes a seat beside Amy. She gives me a look. An unspoken conversation passes between us in a glance, in a way that can only happen with best friends.

Is it him?

It is!

Get it girl!

Before the guys came over, I thought I was hallucinating when I looked across the bar and saw Connor sitting there. I mean, in fairness, I’ve seen his face so many times over the years. When I close my eyes at night, when I let myself get lost in a daydream, when I let my fantasies take over and my fingers ease the ache of desire between my thighs.

I squirm in my seat, that familiar yearning is overwhelming me. Now that Connor isn’t just a fantasy or a memory, but sitting here smiling at me, it’s almost too much.

Almost.

“I’m Ryan Rogers,” I hear Connor’s friend introduce himself across the table, but I can’t turn my head. I couldn’t care less who he is. All I can see is him.

“Amy,” I hear her answer.

“Thanks for inviting us to sit down,” Connor smiles and my heart flutters erratically. “I didn’t mean to stare at you over there,” he nods his head toward the table he walked over from, “but I couldn’t look away. I’m Connor McLean, you are?” He waits for me to fill in the blank and I realize he has no freaking clue who I am.

Of course he doesn’t.

When he left town, I was a gangly thirteen-year-old with short, fuzzy little afro and braces. My arms and legs seemed to be in a competition with each other for what limb could grow the fastest and my ears looked like they were trying to teach Dumbo a thing or two about how to fly.

I instinctively touch my earlobe, now hidden by long hair and smile, “I’m Lo…” I clear my throat instantly deciding to keep my childhood nickname to myself, “Charlotte.”

“Charlotte,” his green eyes twinkle and his strong jaw sets.

Does he know who I am? Does he remember little Lottie, his best friend’s sister, had a big girl name? Does he remember me at all?

“A beautiful name,” he leans toward me with a smile that makes me feel like I’ve just turned my face into the first warm rays of sunshine that heat the earth in the spring.

“Thank you,” I feel heat bloom over my cheeks, not to mention between my legs.

“What are you drinking, Charlotte?” He briefly looks down at my half-empty glass. Or is it half-full?

“Vodka cranberry,” I lick my lips and realize that I’m suddenly parched. I take a sip of my drink, but nothing in a glass can quench this thirst. It’s my nerves making my tongue feel like a batten of cotton.

“I’ll get you another,” he doesn’t ask and I don’t mind a bit.

He stands up and his friend follows suit. I watch as his round, tight ass walks away.

“Oh my God! It’s really him! Are you going to tell him?” Amy suddenly reappears across the table, closing the canyon of distance that was created by Connor sitting down.

“No, I don’t want him to see me as the goofy kid with some puppy-love crush,” I lean across the table and hiss at her.

“So, you’re gonna pretend you don’t know him? Isn’t that going to get weird?” She raises an eyebrow, heavily defined with brow pencil.

“No, I’m not pretending anything. I’ll tell him, I mean, I think I will. I haven’t worked that out yet. Can you just let me enjoy being seen as a sexy woman by the only guy I’ve ever loved instead of as a little kid?”

“No, of course, you’re right. Sorry,” Amy backs down, twisting her red hair around her pale fingers. “You deserve this babe, if I’d been driving myself crazy about a guy for as long as you have and he showed up like that, I’d have already taken him home by now,” her blue eyes sparkle.

“No doubt,” I laugh and twist my head around to look at him. Connor and his friend are still grabbing our drinks from the bar. I shamelessly let my gaze lick down his neck and over his burly shoulders, down his cut, tattooed arms and over the V of his waist to that perfect butt.

“Look at you! I’ve never seen you like this, I like it. It’s about time you came out of that shell,” Amy teases me. “Don’t waste tonight, you gotta hop on that stallion and ride!” She giggles.

“Amy!”

“Oh, please. Don’t act so shocked. You’re thinking it. And you know what? If Connor fucking McLean disappears from your life again and you didn’t take this opportunity, I’m not going to listen to it.”

The guys come back to the table with handfuls of drinks and smiles and we both jump in our seats, sitting up straight.

“Vodka cranberry for you, and a rum and Coke for me,” Connor smirks as he sits back down beside me.

“Oh, thanks for the Long Island,” Amy purrs from across the table. “Hey, Ryan, I was thinking it’d be nice to enjoy these out on the deck. Wanna join me?” She tilts her head and looks up at with a coy smile.

“Sounds good to me, you guys coming?” He looks over at us.

“No, they’re fine in here, right Charlotte?” Amy gives me a pointed look.

“Yeah, we’re good,” I smile back.

“Okay, lead the way,” Rogers stands up and Amy grabs her drink before getting on her feet.

“Text me tomorrow babe,” Amy looks at me and begins to walk away. She takes a few steps and yells back over her shoulder, “Oh and don’t forget, the reins!”

I shake my head as she disappears from sight with Ryan outside.

“What was that?” Connor looks at me.

“What? Oh, nothing. She’s obsessed with the weather,” I cringe at my inability to convincingly lie on the spot.

“Um, okay,” he shrugs.

“Anyway, thanks for the drink,” I take a big mouthful of what’s left in my first glass and push it across the table.

“Not a problem, so, Charlotte, you lived here long?” He reaches out and grasps my hand, weaving his white fingers through my much darker ones and my heart nearly thuds out of my chest.

“In Bend? Yeah, I was born here,” I lick my lips nervously and look down at my fresh drink.

“Really? Me too.”

“I haven’t seen you around,” I’m not technically lying. It has been over a decade since I’ve studied his sexy face. Since I’ve craved his broad hands, the hand holding mine now, to touch me. Since I’ve gotten lost in the world-stopping green of his eyes.

“I left when I was eighteen,” he fills in the part of the story I already know. “I just retired from the SEALs and thought it was time to come back home.” His eyebrows furrow together as he seems to get lost in his drink. Like he’s watching a scene he doesn’t want to explain play out on the surface of his fizzing drink.

“Well, I’m glad you came back,” I let my heart do the talking and feel myself relax when he finds his way back to my eyes.

“Right now, you’re making it pretty easy to see I made the right decision,” his words feel like the little electric shock you get when someone scuffs their feet on the carpet. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I sit a bit taller.

Amy is right, I’d be a fool to let him go. To let this go. I glance down at my drink. I didn’t plan on coming out here to get drunk, but I didn’t plan on meeting the only man who has made my heart fill like a helium balloon either. I lift my glass and hold it up to Connor, certain he can see my heart pulsing in my neck as I smile up at him, “Here’s to new beginnings and great decisions.”

He clinks his glass against mine and we both take a big swig. Connor drapes his arm casually over my shoulders and I snuggle into him without thinking. To new beginnings and great decisions. Let’s hope this is the start of both.