“It’s all good,” Trevor says nonchalantly. “I’m on the mend.” He taps his temple. “You know, other than the obvious complete and total lack of memory that goes beyond the past six weeks.”
Nobody laughs at his joke.Wasit a joke?
Drinks get delivered and Hunter and Willow say a quick goodbye and proceed to their table, walking hastily like they can’t get away fast enough.
“Guess I made that awkward, huh?” he asks.
“I just don’t think people know what to say.”
“Are you ready to order?” the perky waitress asks, providing a much-needed interruption.
This place is totally old school, with no prices on my menu, just his. But I remember them from last time when Trevor showed me and settle on a modestly priced chicken dish. Trevor orders a steak.
“Man need meat,” he says in a deep caveman voice. “Man need strength to take woman later.”
I giggle at his antics then blow out a slow controlled breath through my lips wondering how I’m going to get through this night without making a complete and total fool of myself by begging him to just take me home and have his way with me.
We talk our way through dinner, which fascinates me considering I avoid speaking of the past and he has no past to speak about. We talk about the coffee house. The family with the unruly kids in the far corner. The older couple three tables over who look passionately in love. I explain to him that it’s Maddie’s grandmother, Rose, and her newish husband, Tucker McQuaid. That leads to more talk about the town’s history, which I’ve come to learn is a ‘safe’ subject.
I become self-conscious when I notice him staring at my mouth. I use my napkin to wipe it, thinking I have something on my chin.
He sits back in his chair, taking me in. “Watching you eat is making me hard.”
I flush and glance around, hoping nobody heard him.
“You act all innocent, Ava. But you like it when I talk to you that way.”
I admit nothing. I already told him enough the other night. I don’t need him getting an inflated ego.
“Better finish quickly,” he says, gulping down his wine. “We have a date with a huge set of balls.”
I almost choke before I realize he’s talking about bowling, and I start laughing.
“Damn, woman. You have a really sexy laugh.”
I could get used to this. The looks. The bold statements. The compliments.
When you basically grow up together, something like how you laugh is just part of who you are. It’s expected from the other person. But with him, the way I laugh is different. Exciting, I suppose. And that’s just one more reason I’m drawn to this new side of him.
“Come on, Trev, say something to make me laugh again.” I look at him with a slight smile. “Tell me how sexy I am.”
He shifts in his seat, pushes his plate away, and with a wave of his arm, he shouts, “Check please!”
Idolaugh as I eye his half-eaten dinner in amusement. He’s just as ready to move this date along as I am. We’re like two teenagers anticipating the kiss that’s going to come at the end of the night. Only we both know it’s not going to end there. The kiss will turn into more. More of my hands on him. More of his tongue exploring me. More of us taking each other to new heights evenIcan’t remember.
We’re out the door as soon as the check is paid. Trevor takes my hand, and we stroll down McQuaid Circle like it’s something we do every day. He squeezes it tightly when we pass the coffee house, and leans closer. “If I were a betting man, I’d say you want to skip the bowling and take me straight to bed.”
“Good thing you’re not a betting man, then,” I say and quicken my stride as if to prove a point that I’m impervious to his charm.
He chuckles. “Game on, sweetheart. More time for me to make you wet between those gorgeous legs.”
I quickly look around.
He laughs loudly this time. “What? Do my dirty declarations embarrass you?” When I don’t answer, he whispers in my ear, “They do. But they also turn you on. Admit it, you like the beard for more reasons than one. You like the way it tickles your thighs. The way it heightens your sensitivity when it grazes your clit.”
By the time we reach Calloway Bowl, my entire body is thrumming like I’m standing on a live wire. And I swear to God he knows it. He’s reveling in it. I think he’s a man on a mission. A mission to drive me completely and utterly insane with want.
In the same gentlemanly fashion he’s done all night—sans the dirty talk—he opens the door for me.
