Chapter 6: Crimpy's, Part 2

Tristan openly watched Cianne while he ate his fries. She held the book up to her face, blocking his view, but that did nothing to suppress his imagination. His thoughts were all over the place.

Images of her biting into succulent fruit, wrapping her lips around lollipops, and yes…kissing him, clouded his vision.

In an effort to control his growing interest, Tristan focused on the book, but her dainty fingers caught his attention. They should be adorned with elegant and expensive rings. Not with the odd plain metallic ring she wore.

*What the hell I am thinking? I want a date, not a wife.*

He silently counted to ten, hoping to focus on what was happening now. "So. . ." When she didn't look up from her book, he decided to continue anyway. "You still run every day at Ridgeview Park? I haven't seen you there in a while."

Tristan had seen her running a few times while he shot hoops at Ridgeview, a large community park with a jogging trail. He never saw her driving so he assumed she must live close by.

Cianne peeked over the top of the book, at him. "Sometimes. . .," she answered, then lowered the book a little more, "but I've been going after dinner lately. Why?"

*Bingo!*

Never had Cianne asked him a question or said anything other than an occasional greeting, prompted by him of course.

Tristan held her gaze for a moment. This time, she was waiting for a response from him and he saw no reason to answer right away. The fact that he had her attention and that she was looking directly into his eyes, it excited him.

He watched her as she tilted her head down then to the side, allowing her long dark hair to spill over her shoulder and down toward the table. Before the silky looking mane made contact with her plate, Cianne's hand swept her hair over to the other side exposing her delicate neck and the small tattoo she had just behind her left ear. The urge to trace her bare neck with his tongue then lay a gentle kiss on her ink was strong. Then she blinked, pulling his attention to her long dark eyelashes that made him want to brush his thumb across them. He had never seen natural lashes that long before.

Tristan's mind slowed down her movements, frame by frame, as her stunning almond shaped eyes of the purest green stared back at him. He inadvertently dropped his gaze to her lips. Cianne's full peach toned lips parted slightly, causing aches in places he didn't want to acknowledge at the moment. He wondered if they were as soft and tasted as sweet as they looked.

. . . . . . . . . .

Cianne focused back on her book then lowered her head so that her hair shielded some of her profile. Tristan didn't seem offended by her closing him out. She actually saw him smiling out of the corner of her eye.

*Why is he staring at me?* As if he was interested in whatever she had to say.

"Would you like some company?"

Cianne tilted her head and creased her brows. "Company?" she repeated.

"Yeah, when you run," he smiled.

*That smile.* Cianne's heart fluttered, again.

"See, I want to stay in shape and running seems to work for you."

*Wait.* She lowered her book then glared at him. Cianne had to close her gaped open mouth. "What?"

Tristan turned to face her, "I'd like to run with you."

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

Tristan chuckled, but his laugh had little humor to it. He sat back in the chair letting one arm fall to his side while the other remained on the table beside his tray where his fingers fidgeted with the edge of a napkin. "Have I done something to you that caused you to dislike me?"

Cianne brows creased and, as she wondered what had him saying such nonsense, her frown deepened.

"No?" he questioned. "Well, you never talk to me unless you have to. Even then, you brush me off. I smile, you run. Did I do something to you that I don't remember? Perhaps I said something. Or is it just me in general, you detest?" he asked calmly.

"I don't. . .not like you." Her words came out much quicker than she had intended. *Oh, if he only knew.*

. . . . . . . . . .

For the first time in four years, Tristan saw Cianne Baxter's eyes clearly. He was amazed that they weren't green like he thought they were. Her eyes were a mixture of green and blue that reminded him of beautiful untouched waters in the tropics. They were dazzling, hypnotic even, but he needed to focus and not be swayed by her exquisiteness.

"Then why are you so put off by me?" he asked her.

"Put off. . ." She frowned again, seemingly confused by the question. "I never meant for you to interpret my actions, or lack of, that way. I apologize."

Tristan watched as she scraped her teeth over her plump lower lip. He pictured them kissing again, imagining how sweet her lip gloss would taste. He wondered if she knew how sexy biting her lip was, and if she did, was she doing it on purpose to distract him. Playful or nervous biting did sidetrack him.

Cianne was watching him, watching her. He never had her full attention as he did now. Her attention had his heartbeat throbbing inside his chest, and all he wanted was to touch her face, to see if her shimmering olive-toned skin felt as satiny as it looked.

Cianne smoothed her hand over her hair then touched her jaw. She lowered her eyes then looked directly back at him with a raised eyebrow. "What?" she asked impatiently.

"Um. . ." Tristan had to close his eyes and looked away. He took a moment to get his thoughts together and back to the conversation.

*Focus. . .she's actually talking to you, idiot.*

"There's no need to apologize. You can hate me if you like. I just want to know what I did and if I can fix it?"

"I. . .," Cianne started but stopped. "You. . . I just don't. . ." She hesitated again.

He had her tongue tied. "Was the question that hard?" he chuckled.

"No." She looked away. "It's just that you caught me off guard."

Tristan realized that Cianne was nervous. Extremely so, by the way she stumbled over her words and she was still biting her lip. Definitely a nervous thing for her. "What are you guarding?" he asked, playfully.

"Nothing," she said quickly, her voice cracking as she spoke.

Tristan watched as Cianne's cheeks reddened. Had he hit on something? She basically avoided him, but she did admit that she "didn't. . .not like" him. She was blushing because he accused her of guarding something.

*She avoids me.*

*She never looks me in the eyes.*

*She's blushing.*

He'd seen this before. In fact, he'd seen this type of behavior often enough to know what it was. The confusing part was that this was Cianne. Yet all the signs were clear. How did he miss all the signs?

Tristan scooted to the edge of his seat. He couldn't help the way his lips spread out into a wide grin. He felt like the cat who swallowed the canary.

"Did I say something funny?" Cianne asked. Her tone held a hint of irritation and that amused Tristan more.

The semi-smile, or maybe it was a partial frown, on her face made Tristan laugh. Or maybe he was laughing at himself for being so stupid.

"What?" Cianne pinned him with a hard stare.

"You like me," Tristan said, then grinned. The smile he displayed and the conviction in his voice showed no hint of doubt.

"WHAT?" Cianne demanded loudly. "What?" she hissed; her tone lower

"You like me, and I don't mean as a friend. You're into me." He sat back in the chair. His smile was broad; exposing two rows of what he knew were perfectly white teeth. He watched Cianne as her mouth gaped open then closed a few times.

Tristan continued to look at her for thirty seconds as she tried to verbalize a response. "Cat got your tongue?" he teased. "Words can be hard to find for a situation such as this," he said, with mock sympathy. "A simple response would be 'Yes, I do like you, Tristan.' Or you may go in another direction entirely if you like a little flare. You can declare your desires loud and proud for everyone to hear. If silent and sexy is more your thing, which I so hope it is, you can write your number on my hand and seal it with a kiss." Tristan winked at her. "Either of those works for me, though I prefer that you kiss my palm right now. I don't want our first kiss to be in a fast food spot and. . .I don't want you to think I'm easy."

Cianne sat silently while he spoke, but she did gasp when he winked at her. When she did speak, she didn't whisper.

"I know lots of words," she said, sounding annoyed. Cianne put her book inside her bag, picked up her tray, steadied it, then stood up. "These are the words that come to mind right now: overconfident, self-centered, and egotistical." Her hair cascaded around her face then swayed with the breeze as she walked around him. She threw the contents on her tray into the garbage can a few yards away then walked toward the exit doors.

"Or, you can do that." Tristan laughed as he watched her leave.

He almost thought that he had deciphered the signs wrong due to her initial stunned silence, but then she spoke and what he heard in her shaky tone only confirmed his suspicions. There was too much emotion in her little speech for him to be wrong.

"She likes me," he announced, directing his words at all the onlookers. Tristan popped another fry in his mouth and smiled.