16
Debbie stared across the restaurant table at Bob, willing him to return her gaze. But he must have ordered some amazing chicken alfredo, because the plate in front of him had completely absorbed his attention. He’d been acting that way ever since he ran from her at the hotel.
She hadn’t intended any ulterior motives when she’d asked him if he wanted to unpack his things—she just hadn’t wanted to do it when they were exhausted later that evening. She supposed he could have read too much into things when she threw a little harmless flirting in there. But he was acting so nervous about sharing the same space with her, like she was going to turn into a pouncing lioness or something. She hadn’t been that way when they were dating, so she didn’t know why he’d think she was now.
Debbie fini
