He was already waiting by the time she stepped out of the building.
Leaning against that same Jeep, arms crossed, sunglasses on. And when he spotted her, that familiar half-smile tugged at his lips.
Mel tried not to let her stomach flip. She failed.
"You're early," she said, walking toward him.
"You're late," he replied, opening the passenger door for her. "Or maybe I was just impatient."
Mel rolled her eyes, but she smiled. "Where to this time?"
"You'll see."
—
They ended up at a tucked-away food truck park under a canopy of trees, where a soft band played acoustic covers in the background. There were maybe a dozen people there—quiet, relaxed, private. It didn't scream CEO's son. It didn't even whisper it.
They ordered tacos and took their food to a picnic bench off to the side.
---
"So," Jace said, leaning back against the bench as he unwrapped his second taco, "you never told me your favorite color."
Mel blinked, surprised by the random question. "That's what you're leading with?"
He smirked. "What? We've talked about everything but the basics."
She sipped her soda, amused. "Fine. It's navy blue."
"Huh," he said thoughtfully. "Didn't see that coming."
"Why?"
"I pegged you as the deep burgundy type."
Mel tilted her head. "You're strangely specific."
Jace just shrugged, and for a while they ate in comfortable silence. The breeze was light, the sky overcast, but it was the kind of calm that made the rest of the world fade away.
Until he said, "I want to take you out."
Her hand paused halfway to her drink.
She looked at him. "We're out now."
"No, I mean—really take you out. Like a date."
The words hung in the air like thunder before a storm.
Mel didn't answer right away. She stared down at her food, suddenly feeling like her heart had jumped into her throat.
Jace leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His voice was soft now. "I'm not asking for forever, Mel. Just one night. Dinner. No pressure. Just… us."
She looked up at him.
And damn it, he looked sincere. Maybe too sincere. Which only made it harder.
"I don't know, Jace," she said quietly. "It's… too soon."
He blinked. "Too soon?"
"I just—I'm still trying to figure things out. You're…" She shook her head. "You're intense. And complicated. And I like you, but this—whatever this is—is already blurring lines I'm not ready to cross."
Jace didn't look mad. Or even surprised. But something in his expression shifted—like he was bracing for it.
"I get it," he said after a beat. "You're not ready."
She nodded, eyes flicking away. "I'm sorry."
He gave her a small smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't be. I'd rather have your honesty than silence."
They didn't say much after that. Just finished their food while the music played and the moment quietly unraveled between them.
But as he drove her back to work, the silence between them wasn't cold.
It was thoughtful.
Hopeful.
Because maybe not yet didn't mean never.