“You warm enough?” I ask. She’s still not wearing a coat and I don’t care if the walk from her friend’s house to this coffee shop was brief. I don’t want her cold.
She nods.
“Warmer than in the Civic.”
“Warmer than an icicle. Got it.”
She laughs, bright and musical. If I weren’t already hooked, that sound alone would do it.
“You’re really heading to Colorado?” she asks, tearing off a corner of the croissant.
“That’s the plan.”
“What for?”
“New start. New shop. New everything.”
Her eyes soften.
“That’s brave.”
It’s not bravery. It’s survival. But I don’t say that.
“You excited to be going home for Christmas?”
She brightens instantly.
“Very. The town comes alive this time of year. Everyone decorates, even the grumps. With all the Christmas lights at night, our town is brighter than the full moon.” Then her voice drops quieter, almost shy. “I want you to see it.”
My pulse kicks up a gear.
She doesn’t realize what she just admitted, or maybe she does. The hope in her eyes tells me she’s feeling the same thing I am.
“Then I will,” I say simply.
Her breath catches.
“Reid—”
Before she can talk herself into fear, I reach across the table and take her hand. She doesn’t pull away. Not even a twitch. Her mittens are off, her fingers small in mine, warm and slightly trembling.
“Tell me something,” I murmur. “What made you ask me on a date?”
Her lips part. She stares at our joined hands.
“You wanted to take care of me.”
Blue eyes dart to mine, sharp and piercing.
“I liked that. Ireallyliked that.”
Fuck. She’s keeping this conversation PG because we’re in public, but I understand her meaning perfectly. My words turned her on. The thought of me taking care of her, of pleasuring her, made her wet.
For me. Fuck.
“Jodi?”
“Yeah?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
