"Eat first. Go later." I tilted my head toward the restaurant's dark door. "Don't let me forget. I'm supposed to text my friends a picture of you and your driver's license if I make the quote-unquote ri-fucking-diculous decision to go anywhere alone with you."
A smile pulled at one corner of Cal's mouth and his tongue darted out, painting his upper lip. Anotheroof. I felt that tongue, its quick flicks. I felt it on my lips, my skin, between my legs. And he knew it. The way his smile turned into a smirk said he knew it all.
"You told your friends about me," he said, and for such a shy guy, he had no problem squeezing my ass right here in the middle of downtown Boston. "But they think I'm…"
"A stalker," I supplied. "Not a legit stalker, like one who'd hide under my bed for six months or steal my panties—"
"Oh, I'll steal your panties," he murmured.
"Or build a creepy shrine out of the takeout containers and wine bottles you scavenged from my trash," I continued. "They have very active imaginations. They're obsessed with true crime podcasts. Maybe a bit too much."
We weren't talking underwear yet. Nope, nope, nope. If all I wanted was for Cal to take me to Pound Town, we would've checked that box earlier this morning. Right there in the back of his SUV, nice and proper like the goddamn lady I was.
Cal's eyes drifted shut as he nodded. He brought his lips to my forehead. "My friends, the people who've busted my balls for months because I couldn't figure out how to talk to you, they didn't believe you were going to show up tonight," he admitted. "They figured you'd think it over and come to your senses."
"Why is this so unimaginable? You said burgers and beers, right? If I went up to someone on the trail and said, 'You, me, food, drinks?' They'd say yes. Anyone in their right mind would say yes."
"They'd say yes because you're a walking wet dream."
My lips parted as a small laugh tumbled out but I had no other words. Not for a solid minute. That smirk of his stayed right there, almost challenging me to ask him for details. Not doing that. Nope. It was clear I had some catching up to do as far as this man was concerned. And that was why this trench coat was double-knotted. A mite of distance was necessary to keep myself from diving in headfirst. I knew better than that.
Mostly.
"Yeah. Yeah. So what if I'm having dinner with my stalker? We're in public. It's all good."
"Never going to live down this thing, am I?"
My arms twined around his trim waist. "It all depends on whether I eat in the next five minutes," I said. "Get me my own order of sweet potato fries and I'll spin it into an entirely different story. I'm good at that sort of thing."
He caught my lips in an urgent kiss and if it weren't for my bleating hunger and desire to know this guy before Iknewhim better, I would have pointed us in the direction of my house and saddled up.
But this wasn't going to be a quick and easy hookup. This wasn't a regularly scheduled night with Stephen, Leif, or Harry. I didn't want that. I wasn't certain what this was or what I wanted, but I knew it wasn't that.
"Cal," I gasped against his lips. "Feed me."
"Oh, honey. I will," he promised.
Gulping, I walked my fingers up his tie and over his shoulders until my nails scraped back and forth over the nape of his neck. He purred into my touch. "Food. I need to eat food."
"And then? After the food?" he asked.
"We'll see where the evening takes us." I leaned away and pulled on a stern expression, the same one I used when some of my clients balked at the notion of someone managing their social media accounts. They paid me to be their filter but they often forgot that meantfiltering. "Now, let's eat."
He held open the tavern's door, motioning for me to step through. "I'd rather eat you," he murmured as I passed.
"I heard that," I said, glancing over my shoulder.
"Good," he replied. "That's why I said it out loud."
There was a comment ready to leap off my tongue but Cal turned his attention to the hostess, gesturing toward an open table near the windows as he spoke. When the hostess nodded in agreement and marched toward that table, he waited, tipping his head in that direction. I waved for him to go ahead—I wanted to get a look at that suit from behind—but he wasn't having it.
"Ladies first," he said.
I waved toward the table again. "I insist."
"Believe me, Stella,Iinsist." He stepped up behind me, his hands on my waist as he pulled my back to his chest. "Get in that seat, sweet thing. If you wait another minute, we're turning around and walking right outta here."
Even the hottest guy with the most incendiary growl-pout couldn't make me miss a meal.
