“Oh, so that’s what you call what I’ve seen? Working.”
“Of a sort.”
“Working me you mean.”
His laugh is soft and intimate, then he leans his mouth to my ear. “You’ll know when I’m working you, princess.”
I turn toward him, our noses brushing and sending a sharp need through me. Biting my lip keeps me from leaning in.
Adam tucks the blanket tighter around me and retreats, propping himself next to me.
He takes up so much space, even with how big the back of his car is.
We look out into the sky and the way the river shimmers below us, frosted over and framed by bright white snow under the moon.
“So, what made this your favorite spot?”
“My grandfather brought me here when I was a kid. He taught me that you can tell a lot about a person by how they handle the quiet.”
Another reminder of my best friend growing up. My neighbor. Gabe. Everything always seems to come back to him in some way.
After a beat, he turns to peer at me. “You handle it well.”
“I’m not afraid of quiet.”
“No. Just what it lets you think about.”
My pulse hiccups, and I turn to look at what he brought with him to break the tension building in my chest. “You shouldn’t psychoanalyze your dates. I’m pretty sure that’s dating 101.”
“You’re not just a date.” His voice drops, leaving those words hanging between us before he’s moving, opening a bottle of champagne and pouring me some in a real glass flute.
I giggle as I take it, savoring the sweet bubbles as they fill my mouth. Then he tugs the warming bag closer and pulls out two hand pies. “Try this before it freezes.”
I take the warm tart, my fingers brushing his, and immediately take a bite. Like before with the burrito, I let out a low moan at the savory meat and perfect spice—thyme, onion, garlic—and expertly flaky crust that still holds its shape under the moisture and weight.
Adam chews through his own bite, smug pride filling his features.
“You make these?”
He shakes his head as he swallows. “No, I leave that to more talented people. I can grill a mean steak though. I’ll show you when the weather gets warmer.”
“Mmm. Presumptuous of you.” Thinking I’ll still be around. But I have to admit, if I am, I would very much like to have him show me. I like being around him.
His brow lifts. Can he read my thoughts? The things I’m leaving unsaid with my response.
I devour my meat pie, licking my fingers clean and ignoring how it keeps his attention on my mouth.
He’s holding back on me, proving his point.
Adam is not like the men I’ve dated before.
But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to hurt me.
“You want another one?”
My laugh is a bark. “Of course.”
I never lost my athletic appetite. Even if I haven’t gone running since I came home, it’s been a constant in my life for more than a decade. Devouring my second pie is greeted with his approval,completely at odds with how Nick responded to my food habits and his offhand comments about my figure.
