CHAPTER TWO
The bell above the diner door gave a soft jingle as Briar stepped out into the cool night air, her breath curling in the faint glow of the streetlights. She told herself she wouldn’t look. That she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
But she didn’t have to.
She felt him.
A presence in the dark, thick and inescapable.
Slowly, she let her gaze shift, her pulse hammering against her ribs even as she forced her expression into something unimpressed, unaffected.
Kade was leaning against the hood of a sleek black car, arms crossed over his chest, golden eyes gleaming like molten fire beneath the neon glow of the diner’s sign.
Waiting.
Briar exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. Of course he is.
She forced herself to keep walking, heels clicking against the pavement, spine straight, chin lifted. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Kade didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just let his gaze drag over her, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.
“I just wanted coffee,” she muttered, more to herself than him. “One goddamn cup without—”
“Without me?”
His voice was low, rough, edged with something dark and teasing.
Briar’s steps faltered. Just for a second. Just long enough for his smirk to deepen.
She gritted her teeth and kept walking. “If you’re trying to prove a point, Mercer, you can stop wasting your time.”
Kade pushed off the car in one fluid motion, his movements too smooth, too controlled, his scent—woodsmoke and leather and something wilder—catching on the breeze as he fell into step beside her.
“What point would that be?” he mused.
“That I can’t shake you.”
Kade exhaled a quiet laugh, and the sound sent something traitorous skittering down her spine.
“You can’t shake me, sweetheart,” he murmured. “But that’s not the point.”
She clenched her jaw, ignoring the way her body reacted to his closeness, the way his heat pressed against her senses, making it impossible to think. “Then what is the point?”
Kade reached out—slow, careful—plucking the strap of her bag between his fingers. Not pulling. Not stopping her. Just reminding her that he could.
She froze.
His gaze burned as he leaned in, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.
“You keep telling yourself this is coincidence,” he murmured. “That I just happen to be where you are.”
A shiver worked its way down her spine.
His fingers tightened—just slightly, just enough to make her breath catch.
“But we both know better,” he continued, his voice a velvet-wrapped threat.
Briar swallowed hard. “This isn’t—”
Kade tilted his head, watching her. “Isn’t what?”
Her pulse pounded against her throat.
“Fate?” he murmured. “Or something else?”
Briar forced herself to step back, breaking the contact, shoving down the wild, reckless pull in her chest.
“I think,” she said, voice sharper than she felt, “that you have a goddamn problem.”
Kade smirked, slow and dangerous.
“You’re the one still standing here, sweetheart.”
Damn him.
Damn him for being right.
Leaning against the hood of a sleek black car, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with that same insufferable smirk. Like he’d known she wouldn’t be able to resist sneaking another glance.
Briar cursed under her breath.
His grin widened. “You always talk to yourself, or is this just my effect on you?”
She stalked past him, refusing to let her legs slow, refusing to acknowledge the way her pulse kicked up. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late,” he called after her.
She didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. Didn’t let herself falter.
But three days later, different place, same problem.
This time, it was the bookstore—her sanctuary, her escape. A tiny hole-in-the-wall shop, dimly lit and packed with shelves so full of books that they created a maze of paper and ink. The scent of worn pages and old stories wrapped around her like a familiar cocoon, soothing, safe.
Until it wasn’t.
Until she felt it again.
That awareness. That prickle at the back of her neck, the undeniable weight of being watched.
Her fingers tensed around the spine of the book she’d been flipping through. Slowly, she turned.
And there he was.
The air in the bookshop thickened, charged with something electric, something dangerous.
Briar swallowed hard, forcing herself to ignore the way her skin prickled under his gaze, the way her pulse betrayed her—sharp, unsteady.
Kade Mercer was too close now, his body radiating heat, his scent curling around her senses like smoke, filling her lungs, making it impossible to focus on anything but him.
Damn him.
She wasn’t supposed to want this. Wasn’t supposed to lean into the chase, to revel in the way he stalked her with his eyes, his presence, his impossible, unshakable persistence.
And yet—
Kade’s fingers drifted along the edge of her book, teasing, barely there, but enough to make her breath hitch. His smirk deepened, dark amusement dancing across his face like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
Like he savored it.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you want to be caught.”
Briar stiffened, inhaling sharply.
God, he was insufferable. Smug and cocky and so sure of himself.
She tilted her chin, steeling herself, forcing her voice into something cool, detached. “You’re delusional.”
Kade chuckled, the sound a deep, knowing rumble that sent a traitorous shiver licking down her spine.
He noticed. Of course he noticed.
His golden eyes gleamed beneath the dim lighting, something untamed flickering in their depths—something hungry.
Briar gritted her teeth, tightening her grip on her book as if it could ground her. “You know, most people would take a hint.”
Kade hummed, his gaze never wavering. “Most people don’t have my instincts.”
That word.
Instincts.
The way he said it—like it wasn’t a choice, like it was something primal, something carved into his very being—made her stomach tighten.
Like he couldn’t help but chase her.
Like it was inevitable.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She needed to end this. Needed to shove him away, tell him to stop hunting her like she was something to be devoured.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she just stood there.
And Kade leaned in.
Not touching. Not quite.
But close enough that she could feel the heat rolling off him, that his breath fanned warm against her cheek, that the space between them was so thick with tension it made her dizzy.
“You like it, don’t you?” he murmured.
Her breath caught.
Kade’s smirk was slow, knowing. “The way I chase you.”
Briar clenched her jaw. No. Yes. Maybe.
It didn’t matter.
Because he already knew.