He pushes out a gush of air. “In my world, it is … sometimes.” Frowning, he looks at something over my shoulder, his eyes getting a somewhat far off look. Meanwhile, his hand clutches my wrist while his thumb traces tiny circles along my wrist.
“Still trying to figure out that deal, huh?” I question.
A few weeks ago, he told me about a proposition from another healthcare company. Going ahead with the deal would further expand the reach of McKenna Rehab facilities nationwide.
“There’re so many pitfalls as to where this could all blow up in my face. But there’s also the tremendous upside that we could be doing a lot of good for people who wouldn’t otherwise get the help they need.”
“How so?”
His eyes take on that sparkle he always gets when he talks about work as he leans in. His gaze meets mine. “For one, this deal could help bring McKenna into locations where recovery resources are nil, like Appalachia, for instance. The opioid crisis is taking its toll there, and so many rehabs refuse to do business there because the insurance companies won’t pay.”
“This is an opportunity for McKenna to establish itself in Appalachia?”
He nods. “But not as a money grab. We could do some good, but something about it isn’t sitting well with me. The numbers are panning out, and just about everyone from my staff to my father are urging me to do it.”
“Your dad? He still has input in what you do with the organization?”
He shakes his head. “Not in any formal way, but I value his opinion.”
“That’s wonderful that you two have that type of respect for one another.” Neil told me about the damage to his relationship with his parents while he was still drinking. To know that bond hadn’t been severed forever is a relief. No one should go without the love and support of their family.
Before my thoughts can trail off too far from the present moment, Neil lifts my wrist, bringing it to his lips, kissing it. A shiver races through me, and our eyes connect. The weeping between my legs, which has become so familiar, causes me to squeeze my thighs together.
As if perfectly timed, our waitress brings a basket of vegan cornbread to the table and takes out orders.
“I’ve been working on a few different vegan cookie and holiday bread recipes,” I say after finishing half of my slice of the cornbread.
“How’s it going?”
I give a one shoulder shrug. “Not sure. They’re just okay, but it could be because I’m not used to vegan sweets. I need someone to taste test them for me.” Wiggling my eyebrows, I give Neil a funny expression.
He lets out a sigh. “It’s a hell of a job, but if you insist.”
I laugh. Over the past month, he’s become my go-to taste tester for any new recipe or baked item I come up with. So far, simply based on his recommendation, I’ve decided to add the pumpkin snickerdoodle cookies and the vanilla bean bread to my holiday repertoire for sale.
We make small talk until the waitress brings out our plates. Neil ordered the dirty rice with a side kale salad, and I got the vegan gumbo.
“I have to try their cupcakes,” I insist when the waitress asks if we would like a dessert menu.
Neil dips his head, obliging, and a minute later, we’re handed the dessert menu from the waitress.
“The macapecan looks good. Oh, and the chocolate chip drizzle.”
“You heard the lady,” Neil says, handing the menus back to the waitress.
I furrow my brows, looking across the table. “What about you? Did you want to try something else?”
He shakes his head. “I’m going with whatever you recommend.”
“What about what you want?”
Smirking, he leans in. “What I want isn’t on the menu, Desiree.”
My belly flip flops. It’s not the innuendo alone that causes my body’s reaction. It’s the steely look in his eyes that promises to follow through with every bit of pleasure his gaze gives out.
Dipping my head, I lick my lips and do my best to steady my breathing. It’s not easy to do with Neil’s thumb, still making little circles around my wrist. It’s been a month since we started seeing one another, and aside from some deeply passionate kissing outside of my apartment door each evening when he drops me off, we haven’t done thedo.
In all honesty, I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to go there with him. Something in me had told me that there would be no turning back once we crossed that line. But as I sit across the table from him, silently wishing this waitress would hurry up with the desserts I ordered, I know I am beyond ready.
