“With the guys?”
Hell no!
“No, just us.”
“Like a date?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”
Yes!
He smiled into her eyes and helped her to her feet. “I know just the place.”
“How dressed up do I need to be?” She pushed the ereader into a tote bag and shoved her feet into a pair of pink flip-flops with what looked like a rubber daisy separating her toes.
“Comfy enough to walk a little, but dressy enough to eat in a restaurant.”
“Comfy, but kinda dressy. Got it.” She took his hand and walked with him toward the courtyard. “It’s not stabby stiletto heel fancy, is it?”
“No.” He barked out a laugh. “It’s not.”
“Thank God. I forgot to pack my stabby stilettos, and even if I had, I’d break my neck on the cobblestone streets.”
“We can’t have that.” He opened the door for her. “I’d change the restaurant before I’d let you fall.”
“My hero.”
* **
He knew he’d fucked up when she walked out of the bedroom and he almost swallowed his tongue. He should have told her to wear jeans and a paper bag. His eyes swept down her sundress to the sandals and back up again. In his head he imagined having someone to catch his eyeballs and yank them further up past her chest when he really just wanted to stare.
“Is this okay?” She brushed her hands down her sides.
“Perfect.” He grabbed the keys for his truck. “Absolutely perfect.” He hadn’t been going to bring a sidearm, as he had one locked in the glovebox. But right now, he was second-guessing that choice. On second thought, leaving a trail of bodies with their eyes shot out for glancing in her direction would not be helpful in maintaining the good relationship his family had with the locals.
He opened the door of the truck for her, lifted her in, and closed the door before getting in himself.
“Where are we going?” Jorja tugged at the seat belt a couple of times, but it jammed.
He reached across her to help her with the belt, bringing his face close to her neck. Gunnar squeezed his eyes closed briefly. Oh boy, her perfume was intoxicating… the good kind of heavy and not the ten-dollar bottle of whiskey kind. As his fingers untwisted the belt, Jorja turned slowly to face him. His fingers worked from memory alone as he was enthralled by breathing her in. Their mouths were so close they were almost kissing, but not quite.
Damn.
Her lips are kissable.
Nope.
Get your mind out of the gutter.
He forced himself back to the task at hand and managed to free the seat belt and close it around her. There had to be a medal for not kissing a beautiful woman when the tensionbetween you and her ramped up to nuclear… right? If there wasn’t, there should be.
The fifteen-minute drive out of town and up into the mountains to the pizzeria he’d found after a hike passed comfortably between them, with him pointing out landmarks and her chattering about how beautiful the views from the hairpin bends were.
“Wait until you see them on the way down,” Gunnar told her. “When the lights of the harbor are all lit up, it looks like the ocean goes on for miles.”
“It doesn’t?” she teased. “The ocean stops?”
