No Strings Attached

His face, a masterpiece of chiseled grace, coupled with a rogueish charm that clung to him like fine cologne, set hearts racing among the crowd of young women. Their excitement spilled over in high-pitched squeals.

Brodie, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair for Clara with a flourish, inviting her to take a seat. He then fetched a slice of strawberry shortcake from a silver platter and placed it before himself.

Just as Clara thought he'd dig in alone, with fork poised, she caught him meticulously fishing out the bright red berries from within the cake's layers. He flashed her a grin and offered her the strawberry-free treat. "Here you go, no berries."

Clara gazed at him in disbelief. She'd adored strawberry shortcake since childhood, yet paradoxically, she never ate the berries. It was a quirk known only to those closest to her.

How could this stranger seem so intimately aware? Was it mere coincidence, or had their paths crossed in some forgotten encounter?

expression. "The berries in these cakes tend to be tart. I figured

over Clara, and she shook her head with a smile. "Not at all.

her cake, nibbling away with an air of concentration that Brodie

with a barely perceptible smile curling his lips. His girl was still as oblivious as ever when indulging in food. Yet, how was it she had no recollection of him?

on, stop eating! The bride's about to toss the bouquet. Let's try to catch it!" Clara tried

eyes tracked its arc, and

of possessive irritation, sported a wild smirk unheard of before. The bouquet, once diverted, took flight again, and Brodie, unfazed,

edge of chaos, with screams of delight piercing the

dark and brooding upon Clara. She was well