“Don’t give me permission to be possessive,” he says.
“Permission granted.” I walk past him and add some product to keep my waves. I hurry and swipe on some lipstick and mascara.
“Wow,” he says as we head downstairs. “You clean up nice.”
“So do you,” I tell him.
I lock up and grab his hand as we make our way to Bookers. It’sonly a few blocks away, and the evening air is perfect. It’s cool enough to be comfortable.
Leaves from the trees hanging over the sidewalk drift down between us. They’re bright orange and brown and scatter across the sidewalk. The air carries the faint smells of woodsmoke and cinnamon—a reminder that it’s mid-September. Starting tomorrow, the streets will be packed with tourists and will remain that way through the new year, especially after the ski season begins.
We pass the bookstore, where three teenage girls quickly appear in the window, watching us.
“Is this kind of interest normal?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” I say, avoiding their gaze. “They’ll move on to someone else eventually. It’s just been a while since I’ve dated, after everyone thought I’d marry Craig. I think the whole town is shocked. And many of them have no idea who you are yet.”
The wind picks up, sending more leaves swirling around us like confetti. We pause at the street corner to let a car pass before we cross. Nick turns to glance at me, and I notice how the streetlamp catches the auburn in his hair.
“Serious question,” I say. “Could you imagine yourself living here?”
He hesitates as we cross the street. “Yeah. Zane is here. When we were teenagers, we always talked about living close so our kids could grow up together.”
“You want kids?” I ask.
Nick is utterly breathtaking.
“Maybe one day.” His thumb rubs across mine, and his hand squeezes my fingers a little tighter.
We approach Bookers, and there are huddles of people waiting outside. Nick opens the door, allowing me to enter first.
My eyes widen. “I can’t believe you had them reserve a table.”
“Why not? It’s a Friday night, and they’re packed. I wanted to be guaranteed dinner with my beautiful girlfriend,” he says.
“You’re going to make me blush,” I tell him, leaning closer.
The hostess greets us, pulling us away from our conversation.
“Two, for Nicolas Banks,” he says, and she cheerfully leads us across the room.
As we pass tables and booths, heads turn to watch us.
“People are staring,” I whisper.
“Because you’re stunning,” he says, gently placing his hand on my shoulder to pull me close.
I melt into him as he escorts me like I’m royalty.
My pulse jumps when I slide into the booth and he sits right beside me. His arm settles around me, and I lean into his warmth. Being close to him is too easy. Our legs touch under the table, and neither of us moves away.
Menus are placed in front of us, but I don’t need it because I have it memorized. I open it, though, to give myself something to focus on other than him.
“Would you like to start with some drinks and appetizers?” the server asks, and then pauses when Nick turns to her. “I, uh … Nick, uh … huge fan. I literally had a poster of you in my bedroom.”
I smile, understanding because Nick has a way of scrambling people’s thoughts.
“Thanks.”
