“Where are you going?” She asks as she chases after me.
I turn to grin at her over my shoulder. “Dinner. It was your idea.”
“I need to grab my stuff. It’s still in your office.”
“What’s in there that you need for tonight?” I stop just outside the gate and look down at her. She’s tall, but the top of her head still hits at my chin. Suddenly, I have the urge to pull her in and rest it there like old times.
“My computer, wallet, keys.”
Huffing, I redirect us towards the office building instead of the parking lot, hoping the pit stop to get her stuff doesn’t make her change her mind. I want this night with her more than anything. I’ve missed her since she’s been gone and the idea of going another two weeks, hell a day, without having her in my space feels like losing her all over again.
“Would you slow down? I have long legs, but they’re not that long.”
“Keep up. We’ve got places to be and you’re lollygagging behind.”
“I am not lollygagging.” She pushes me as we reach the entrance to the building. I hold the door open for her and fight the urge to touch her in some way as she passes. Her round ass in those jeans is a temptation all its own as I follow her to the elevator.
“Do I need to change?” she asks, holding her arms out and looking down at her outfit. I take my time examining her. The waves in her hair as it falls past her shoulders. The Troubadours shirt tucked into her jeans. The sneakers on her feet. I’ve always loved that about her. One minute she can be dressed to the nines, ready to hit up a gala, and the next she can look so relaxed. Either way, she could give a model a run for their money.
“You’re perfect.” This is the woman I met and fell in love with. Sporty, cute, and carefree.
She blushes and ducks her head, leaving the elevator and making her way down the hall to my office. Once inside, I discard my jacket on the back of the chair then untuck the dress shirt I’ve got on, suddenly wanting to dress down for her. To be who she once knew too.
She catches me unbuttoning my shirt and her eyes widen. “Uh, what are you doing?”
“The place we’re going to is a bit more casual.”
“I didn’t know Grant Davenport could do casual anymore,” she teases.
“I can do just about anything for you.” I wink at her and let the shirt fall off my shoulders.
Tilting her head, she asks, “Why do you wear a three-piece suit, or any suit for that matter, but never wear a tie?”
“Too stuffy.” I’ve always hated the feel of a tie. It reminds me of boarding school and the pretentious events my parents dragged us to growing up. They’re suffocating. “Plus, fashion.”
The laugh that follows is uninhibited and tightens the cord around my heart—the invisible string tying us together.
“I would hate for you to be unfashionable.” Shaking her head, she grabs her bag and leaves the office.
“Gotta keep up with you,” I call after her and she hits me with a smile over her shoulder.
“Where are we going?” I ask Grant as I follow his instructions and turn onto the side street near Vanderbilt University.
“You’ll see,” he muses.
“A hint would be nice,” I mutter to myself, and he laughs at me, pointing to the next street to turn down.
“Park anywhere. We’ll walk from here.”
“Okay.” Pulling off to the side of the road, I parallel park on the narrow avenue and Grant jumps out of the car to come open the door for me.
“I’m taking you to one of my favorite spots.” He holds his hand out for me and when I slide my palm into his, it feels like coming home. He doesn’t let go as he guides us down the street and around the corner to the entrance of a bar.
Nodding at the bouncer, he leads me inside the dimly lit space and over to the bar that takes up the entire length of the wall where he greets the bartender with a chin tip and a wave. TVs line the wall above the bar and various sports and local artist paraphernalia decorate the spaces between. Behind us, tables litter the room and the general camaraderie of patrons has this feeling like a dive bar.
“Grant, my man.” The bartender reaches out to slap Grant’s hand with a familiar smile.
“How’s it going, Joe?”
