“I come in peace,” I insist, letting a small smile grace my lips. “I just wanted to return your jacket.” I shrug nonchalantly, then do an internal happy dance when he narrows his eyes and his brows wrinkle together.

Maddie 1, Dempsey 0.

He crosses his arms over his chest and turns away from me, surveying the rest of the bar. God, he has the best arms. His forearms are lean and lickable, but his biceps deserve their own area code. They’re just so wide and beefy. I don’t think my fingers could touch if I tried to circle one of them with both hands. I bet he could hold himself in a plank position for hours with those puppies—

“So where is it?” he demands without looking at me.

Wait, what?

When I don’t answer, he turns back to me and smirks.

“Where’s my jacket, Maddie?”

Maddie? Shit. Is it hot in here? Dempsey Haas knows my name. Dempsey Haas just said my name, and he made it sound so damn fine.

“Maddie. Seriously.”

I shake myself out of my stupor to find him turned back to me now, his arms spread long on his side of the raw-edge bar. I clear my throat and sit up a bit straighter.

“It’s in my car. I didn’t bring it in because I didn’t know if you were working,” I explain.

“You could have texted me,” he counters.

Oh. I could have? Good to know.

“After the way things ended last Friday…” I intentionally trail off and peek up at him through my lashes. “I didn’t even think to try. I figured you had probably blocked my number.”

His eyebrows pull together again, forming that squishy little wrinkle above his nose. I wiggle my toes in my wedges as I fight the urge to stand up and smooth it out. Gah. Why am I such a sucker for that grumpy forehead wrinkle?

“I didn’t see your number in my contacts. And I don’t even know how to block someone,” he huffs.

Of course he doesn’t. He’s adorable.

“Hmm. You must not have looked under Clock Tower Girl, then.”

His eyes widen a fraction as he pulls his phone out of his back pocket. The blue light illuminates his gorgeous, chiseled jawline as he scrolls through his list of contacts, and I know the moment he finds me because his eyes light up and the briefest hint of a smile cuts through.

“You’re something,” he mutters as he stashes his phone, shaking his head.

“You don’t even know the half of it. But you will.”

The smirk leaves his face as he processes my reply. Shit. Too far.