The server comes in and takes our order. I haven’t even looked at the menu, but I’ve eaten here often enough to know what I want. I order the seafood pasta. Deacon orders a barbecue sandwich with hush puppies.
“My family lived here when I was a kid,” Deacon says. “My brothers and I moved back here for family. It’s a great town.”
It takes me a moment to switch gears. I’d been expecting him to flirt with me some more. Did I ruin the mood? No, this is good. Getting to know him is good.
“How old are you? Maybe we were in school together.”
“I’m twenty-seven. We left when I was ten.”
“Ah,” I say, oddly disappointed. “I’m two years younger than you. I didn’t hang out with older boys back then.”
“I’m very glad you hang out with them now,” he says, the flirty tone returning.
“So am I.” I try to mimic his tone, but it feels weird.
It must come across okay, though, because he smiles. “Have I mentioned that you look beautiful tonight?”
Ugh, he’s basically requesting more flirting. I sigh, because as much as I want to, I just can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. “I really like you,” I say. “You’re handsome and sweet, and I’m really enjoying this dinner, but you should know I’m not good at this. I don’t know if I’ve ever been good at flirting, and it’s been a while since I’ve dated anyone for…reasons. I’m sorry I’m not better at this, but I really do want to kiss you.”
He stares at me, eyes wide like he’s shocked, and my heart sinks. I was too honest, too blunt, and he’s turned off.
His smile blooms slow over his face and when it reaches his eyes, they heat. “I like your brand of flirting.” He gets up and walks over to my side of the small table, sitting in the chair next to mine and scooting it closer. “I really want to kiss you, too.”
All my nerves return in an instant. I’m twenty-five years old, so why does a simple kiss still cause this level of nerves? “Right now? Our food will probably be here soon.”
His smile is teasing. “I think we have time for a quick kiss, but if you’ve changed your mind—”
I grab his strong-jawed face and yank him toward me. I press my lips to his and he opens immediately, his tongue darting out to touch my lips.
It’s been too long since I’ve kissed a man, and much longer since I’ve kissed a man who knows how to kiss. Deaconreallyknows how to kiss.
I forget where we are. I forget that I smell like skunk, and I sink into that kiss. He grips the back of my head in a way that is so romantic and sexy and comforting all at the same time it brings tears to my eyes.
I don’t actually cry or anything, but my eyes are definitely damp.
And my eyes aren’t the only part of me that’s getting wet. I thread my fingers through Deacon’s soft hair and—
“The seafood pasta for you,” the server says.
I jerk away from Deacon so hard my neck twinges in protest.
“Um, thank you,” I say, my gaze on the plate of steaming food in front of me, because I am definitely not looking the server in the eyes.
Deacon gets up and goes back to his own seat as the server sets his barbecue sandwich in front of him.
“Maybe we should open a window,” I say after the server has left.
Deacon looks up from his sandwich. “Why?”
“I’m assuming you don’t want to admit it, but you moved back to the other side of the table to get away from my smell.”
His mouth ticks up on one side. “I don’t even notice your smell anymore. I think I’ve acclimated.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.”
“I’m not. I moved back to the other side of the table because the view’s better over here.” He stares at me like he means it.
Oh. Oh, that’s really sweet. “Okay. That’s very, um, nice of you to say. But if the smell does bother you, I won’t be offended if you want to let the room air out a bit.”
