As I drive, I check the house numbers. It looks like… yeah. Her friend is Molly. And they’re standing outside when I pull up, park and get out of the truck.
I glance at Molly quick then move toward Belle. She’s all dressed in white and I have an urge to dirty her up. But I won’t because urges aside, she deserves to be worshiped, and I’m just the guy to do it.
“You look beautiful.” I kiss her, instead, soft, short, sweet. Then I stand between the two of them and look down at Molly.
“Where’s Hunter today?”
She shrugs. “Working. He’s got some big project.” She beams with pride even if she’s disappointed to be home alone. And her disappointment is evident, especially when she looks at my arm around Belle’s shoulder. I’d move it, but Ineedto be touching Belle.
Molly walked around me, hugged Belle and then looked up at me. “Have fun.” And she winked.
As we walk to the truck, Belle’s long red hair catches the sun and hangs onto it and I almost wish I would’ve brought the bike. I love the way the wind blows it, the way it curls into complicated swirls of flaming color. I love the way her arms wrap around me. But I also love the way she sits beside me in the truck, so close I can feel the heat from her body, smell her shampoo. Everything about this woman intoxicates me.
I know, from the ribs at the barbecue, that she eats meat, that she isn’t afraid to satisfy her appetite. Even the one for food.
The drive to the steakhouse is short, almost too short, because we won’t be sitting this close in the restaurant, and I like being so near her.
Instead of waiting for me to come around the truck and open the door for her, she slides out behind me and then smooths the skirt. I hold out my hand so she can slip her fingers through mine and then we walk inside.
“Hungry?”
We’re waiting to be seated and she’s holding my hand with one of hers and clutching the attached arm with the other. I don’t know what it looks like to people in the restaurant, but it feels real to me. Feels like she’s mine and I’m hers and we’ve claimed each other. And maybe I shouldn’t watch so many Tuesday night rom-coms with Mom.
I look down at Belle and smile when she looks up at me, then the waitress leads us to a table. I hold Belle’s chair and wait for her to sit then take the chair across from her. If I can’t sit right beside her, then I’ll sit opposite and be happy to stare at her.
She peruses the menu, orders a sweet tea and a giant ribeye medium with a baked potato smothered in butter and grilled asparagus. I give the waitress my order–anI’ll take the same thing–and then sit back in my chair and smile at Belle.
Not for the first time, I marvel at how beautiful she is.
“How was your day?” She tilts her head and stares at me as if she’s really interested in what I have to say. I hope she is, but if she’s just asking to be pollite, that’s okay.
“It was good. I started on the city’s vehicles.” I tell her about brake jobs and oil changes that have to be done this week. I’m boring myself.
“It sounds like a full day.” She’s toying with her napkin, rolling it between her fingers. And she’s smiling.
“I didn’t realize you know Molly and Hunter.” If this thing works out with me and Belle–and I hope it does–I see double dates in our future.
“For years.” She laughs and the sound is like that christmas song with the bells. It tinkles. “I met Hunter when I was working with his company to help them find some lots. But I’ve known Molly for a long time.”
She doesn’t elaborate. It’s her story to tell or not. I suppose I can ask Molly, but I want Belle to tell me. And if it’s a story, I can wait. Even if it isn’t.
When our dinners come, we chit chat as we eat, but then she throws in the towel, napkin actually, when her plate’s clean. I smile and her skin flushes to red. “What?”
I shake my head. Embarrassing her wasn’t my plan. “I like that you like to eat. That you aren’t shy about it.”
She shrugs and tilts her head side to side. “If there’s food, I’m down.”
I nod, and for just a second the smooth guy inside of me smiles. “Well, tomorrow morning around 6am, I’m planning on coffee and donuts from the bakery. You in?”
“Am I in? At 6am? The bakery is about ten minutes from my house. And there’s hair and makeup to be done. I’d have to get up at 4 just to be ready to leave in time.” For a minute, she stares like she doesn’t get what I’m saying. Then she smiles. “Oh. That’s not what you mean, is it?”
I shake my head. “I mean, you can stay at my place, and I’ll go pick up the coffee and donuts and bring them to you in bed.” It’s a risk. A chance for her to crush my hopes, and I wait for a smile.
When it comes, my heart thumps. “Are you asking me to spend the night, Walker Winslow?” When I nod and look down, feigning shyness, she waits for me to look up then smiles brighter. “I’d like that.”
And since dinner’s over, I don’t see much of a reason to linger here. I pay the check, take dessert to go, and walk beside Belle to the truck, even though I want to run, to race through the streets of town and get to the house where I can be with her again, hold her, love… love being alone with her. But I walk beside her, matching her stride, resisting the urge to swing her into my arms and run to the truck, toss her in and break land speed laws on the way home. Instead, I count the steps. So intent am I that I miss when she asks me a question.
“Walker?”
