"This is good," he said.
That was enough to unclench the tight pull behind my ribs.
Then he held out his wrist. "Put it on for me?"
"Sure."
He yanked off the one he'd been wearing and chucked it over the dashboard.
I pinched the new strap between my fingers and fastened it slowly, adjusting the clasp so it sat flat against his skin.
His skin was fair.
The strap was matte black.
The contrast was sharp.
My hand paused just a second longer than it needed to.
He turned his wrist.
The second hand ticked forward with a clean, crisp rhythm.
"I like it," he delivered his verdict.
"Good."
My stomach growled, loud enough to interrupt us both.
I looked away, embarrassed. "Bit hungry. Let's eat. I know a place with decent seafood. You'll like it."
He n
