Paula's POV
It was late. The city hummed quietly outside the window of the cozy café where Ezra had insisted we meet. Not one of those over-the-top luxury places Saints are known for—just a quiet spot tucked between a bookstore and an old flower shop.
"I thought you'd like somewhere that doesn't smell like boardrooms and testosterone," he said with a crooked smile as he pulled out my chair.
Charming. Effortless. Annoyingly smooth.
"I do like my air free of cologne and contracts," I teased, sitting across from him. "Impressive observation."
"I'm a businessman. Reading people is part of the job."
"And I'm a gynecologist. Reading body language is also part of the job," I shot back with a smirk. "You're nervous."
He actually looked caught off guard. "Excuse me?"
"Your coffee's untouched, and you've straightened that spoon five times. Relax, Ezra. It's just dinner."
He stared for a moment, then chuckled. "No one's ever made me nervous before."
"Then you haven't met enough women like me."
---
Ezra's POV
She was magnetic. Sharp, beautiful, disarming.
Paula Deen was nothing like the women I usually met at networking events or formal galas. She didn't pretend. She didn't tiptoe. She sat across from me like she owned the room—and the air between us crackled with energy.
"I heard about the dress," I said casually.
"What about it?"
"Mia not wearing Ryan's choice. Bold."
"She's finally figuring out she doesn't need to shrink for him," Paula said, her voice proud. "She's stronger than she thinks."
I looked at her, quiet for a moment. "Kind of like you."
She paused. Just a breath.
"You don't have to say the right things, Ezra."
"I'm not," I said truthfully. "I'm saying what I see."
Something shifted then. Her teasing faded. Her eyes softened.
"Want to walk?" I asked suddenly. "I know a place."
---
Later – Paula's POV
The riverwalk was quiet, lit by the orange glow of vintage lamps. Ezra and I walked in comfortable silence, fingers brushing now and then—until they didn't just brush. Until he slowly took my hand in his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He stopped at the railing, facing the water.
"I wasn't planning on this," he murmured.
"On what?"
"You. Tonight. The way I keep looking at your lips."
I blinked.
"You should stop that," I whispered, heart pounding.
"Should I?"
And then he kissed me.
Not tentative. Not rushed.
Just… right.