If he hadn’t been stuck at work late, if his favorite Chinese pickup joint hadn’t been packed, if he hadn’t parked his car five million miles down the street because every spot was taken. A lot of ifs.
But his boss had needed the paperwork on her desk by morning (even if she’d left early, promising to look over everything the next day), and Chong’s was packed, probably with singletons like himself who refused to cook dinner on this of all nights. He wasn’t sure why he’d bothered, since the food was going to be cold by the time he got to his car, anyway.
He tucked the takeout under his jacket, trying to keep it warm, and hustled down the street, head lowered to the wind, not quite running. He had already rushed past the man, when the brown curls, rosy cheeks on pale skin, and wet eyes reg
