“I asked Bayleigh out on a lunch date. She said yes. Once I drop you off, I’m going to go get her.” I can’t help the beamingsmile on my face. By the end of the day, my cheeks are going to be killing me.
“No, go to her now. I can call Lincoln to get me or get a rideshare.”
“You sure? It won’t take any time to drop you off; we don't have a time crunch.” I pull my shirt out of the locker and pull it over my head, then drop the towel and pull on my boxers. Normally, I like to go commando, but it’s fucking cold outside and I don’t want my dick to disappear.
“Positive. Besides, it gives me time to plan my date with her.” He tosses me a wink before he stands, pulling out his own phone, and quickly typing a message. His phone buzzes in his hand, and he reads the message. “Problem solved. Lincoln and I are going to have our own lunch date.”
We both laugh, and I finish getting dressed so I can go pick up my beautiful omega. Before I left the house this morning, I grabbed a notebook. Figured it would be easier than typing on a phone and passing back and forth. To me it feels more intimate, and I secretly plan to keep our messages as my own little prize to read over and over when she’s not with me.
Sappy. But who cares.
The drive goes by in a blur, and before I know it, I’m pulling up to her house. She must be waiting because she rushes out the door, coat on but undone, while she pulls on some gloves.
Nope. Not happening. This isn’t how we’re starting our date.
I’m out of my truck in a flash, heading right for her, and she now has a stunned expression on her face. Stopping in front of her, I make sure to speak slowly, clearly and never look away from her.
“I asked you on a date, Baby. When I take my girl on a date, I expect to walk up to her door, knock on it and escort her to her chariot. Not have her running out the door like I just blew my horn for her.”
She blushes. Fuck, does it look sexy as hell on her. Now all I can think about is feasting on her pussy as she comes all over my tongue. My cock wants that too, and it starts to harden, pressing against the zipper in my pants. I have to breathe to calm down.
I slip my arm through hers and lead her back up to the door, waiting for her to go back inside. Then, and only then, do I ring the doorbell.
When she opens it this time, it feels right, like I’m truly courting her, and I sign the phrase I’ve been practicing since I got home last night.
You look beautiful.
Her face softens, her eyes tearing up. I hate that she does that every time one of us signs something to her. When she said no one tried to learn, I thought maybe she overexaggerated just a bit, but now I know she didn’t.
“Thank you,” she mouths, signing as well.
I copy the sign, and she nods in approval. I give a fist pump into the air, proud that I’ve added another sign to my knowledge bank. She laughs, and I make a mental tick for another win in the best boyfriend category.
Opening the door for her, she climbs inside the car, and I sigh in relief that she’s out of the cold. I jog around the front of the truck and climb inside, making sure to hurry up and start the engine. When I glance over at her, she’s smiling back at me.
“How do you feel about burgers and mozzarella sticks?” I ask her.
“Love them,” she says, her voice hoarse.
“Well, that’s perfect, since I know the best place in town. Then, I thought we could stroll through downtown, check out some of the shops.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Reaching across the console, I take her hand into mine, and back out of the driveway. It doesn’t take long to get downtown,and even less time to find a spot in the parking garage. She goes to open her door and I reach out, stopping her, shaking my head at her. I take a moment and pull the notebook from where I stashed it between my seat and the console before getting out, rushing around to her side, and opening her door.
Hand in hand we stroll down the sidewalk, stopping here and there to gaze at the window displays in the stores. We eventually make it to the restaurant. Well, it’s more pub meets sports bar than restaurant. But the food is better than any Michelin star rated establishment.
We’re seated quickly, and I guide Bayleigh to the table, my hand placed at the small of her back.
“Your server will be with you shortly,” the hostess tells us, placing menus in front of us.
“Do you have a pen I can borrow? I promise to give it back to you before we leave.”
“Umm, let me check.” She reaches into her apron pocket, pulling out one and handing it to me. “You can keep it.” She winks, obviously having the wrong idea about why I’m wanting it.
I give her a smile, but my eyes are locked on my beautiful omega. She opens the menu, but I can see her blushing. Pink looks good on her.
I open my notepad, and scribble out a note.
