Read Outside The Lines for Free Online

Jules’s grasp. “But he’s looking right at you. So you might want to come up with something.”
    Jules dragged her gaze back over the expanse of the white and chrome counter until it reached the spot where Blake sat, her breath playing hopscotch in her lungs. His eyes snagged on hers for one last brief second, ninety percent serious and ten percent smoldering, before he dropped his chin toward the menu in his hands. Despite the knee-jerk urge to turn and run, a stronger, deeper-seated instinct rooted her into place.
    She’d run eight years ago. Right now, even if it hurt, she owed him some common courtesy.
    Jules grabbed a pot of coffee from the hot station behind the counter and pushed her feet forward without thinking.
    “ Afternoon, doc. Is this a house call, or are you hungry?”
    H e slid a glance over the top of his menu, and since when were plain old jeans and a button-down shirt so freaking hot? “A little bit of both, maybe. How’s your arm?”
    “Better than it was.” Not the unvarnished truth, but at least it was a step in the right direction.
    “ You having trouble with any of the care?” Blake tipped his chin at the crooked gauze pad being held to her forearm by curling medical tape and sheer dumb luck, and Jules swiped her arm behind her back as she leaned it to fill his coffee cup with the other hand.
    “No pe, not at all. You still have a sweet tooth?”
    A grin shot over his mouth, but it lasted only a second before he arranged it into a well-mannered smile. “I might.”
    Her return chuckle took her completely by surprise, but oh God, it felt good bubbling up from her belly. “Do me a favor and work on your poker face. I’ll be right back.”
    Jules moved through the swinging door to the kitche n, bolstered by the familiar motions of getting food from prep to plate. She grabbed a dessert plate from the stack by the pastry station and made quick work of filling it with the biggest apple turnover left in the quick-pantry, adding an extra swoop of satiny glaze over the just-warmed dish before returning to the dining room with it firmly in her grasp.
    “ What’s this?” Blake asked, eyeing the plate as she slid it across the polished counter between them, the baked-to-perfection pastry leaving the scent of cinnamon-sweet goodness in its wake. 
    “ It’s an apple turnover. They’re Mac’s specialty. But…” She hauled in a deep breath. “This one comes with a side order of I’m sorry .”
    Blake’s fork clanked to the counter. “You don’t owe me an apology, Jules.”
    “Actually, I do. I was…” Scared. Trying to protect you. Vulnerable as hell. “Young. I handled things badly, and for that, I apologize.”
    For a second that lasted roughly ten minutes in Jules’s head, nothing but the muted sounds of the end of the lunch rush passed between them, until Blake said, “I didn’t come here for you to apologize.”
    “But I—”
    “Jules,” he interrupted softly, but she hurtled on, desperate.
    “I hurt you, and I—”
    He grabbed her free hand from its spot on the counter, drawing her forward as he simultaneously repeated, “ Jules .”
      The unexpected gravel shaping her name sent a shot of surprise and something a whole lot darker up the plumb line of her spine, leaving her with nothing but a series of rapid blinks and a watered-down what ? on her lips. Blake’s eyes flashed, the same stormy green as the ocean in a thunderstorm, and he pinned her in place with his stare.
    “I don’t want you to say you’re sorry.”
    “Oh.” The word collapsed from her lips in more of a throaty sigh than the stubborn affirmation she’d intended, and she swallowed hard. “You don’t?”
    “No.” Blake lowered his attention to their hands, the calluses on his thumb sliding roughly over her knuckles as he blanked his expression and let her fingers go. “I came here for something else. In fact, it’s something that has nothing to do with you and me.”
    “Okay,” Jules