Mayer looked at me and her eyes softened. “Yours seems just fine to me.”
“I always thought his whole pulling you over thing might be his way of pulling your hair on the playground,” Meadow’s voice took on a dreamy quality to it. Our romantic, always.
She was staring into space playing with the bottom of her braid, but when the silence stretched for a beat too long, she looked around. And found us all watching her very closely. After rearing back and looking around, as if something was going to pop up out of nowhere, her shoulders slumped.
“Right,” she held out the word, “that’s bad. We don’t reward bad behavior and it’s not romantic or sweet.” She grimaced, but it was fake as hell, “Might be time to change up my book boyfriend type again.”
After laughing, I felt better about the whole thing. Well, except for not knowing what to do about actually showing up to our date.
But here I am, knocking furiously but with zero punch while glancing around like I’m a fucking racoon finding a honey hole and a loose trash can lid. When the door opens, I tumble inside because I’m basically flush against it like I’m pretending to be the door.
I would make the worst fucking mime.
Aiden’s there; he grips my shoulders and holds me steady. He gently guides me inside enough to close the door. His touch is gentle as he takes my coat off and hangs it up. When he steps in front of me, he’s grinningand his green eyes, eyes I don’t usually let myself think about, are twinkling.
I’m in trouble.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi,” I mirror him.
As we break out into laughter, some of the tension breaks. Well, the awkward tension. Not the sexual tension; that’s always there.
Right. Dinner.
We’re just having dinner.
“I’m glad you came.” He narrows his eyes at me, “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I thought about not showing up,” I admit and tease him, “you did already tell me everything.”
“I figured we were working on the honor system,” his voice is low as he takes a step closer.
He’s not touching me, but he’s close enough to allow me to feel his presence and his warmth. It’s like I can’t break our locked gazes. Now that I’m closer, I can see the flecks of gold scattered in his eyes.
“What are we having?” I try to keep my voice light, “That was the other reason why I ended up showing up.” He arches an eyebrow and I explain, “I was curious about what you can cook.”
When he chuckles, while his lips curl into a grin that’s part challenge and part rake, my knees go a little weak. “I decided to cook something easy that I wouldn’t need to fuss over. It’s ready whenever we are.” I blink up at him a few times, wondering whether he thinks I’m going to solve the riddle or not. “Enchiladas,” he explains.
My chin drops to my chest, and I give him a dubious look, but then I notice something and inhale deeply. “Something does smell really good,” I concede.
I swearthe man floats as he leads me deeper into his home. It’s larger than mine and I wonder if that’s how he wanted it. If someone can’t see how Bart Simmons cares about appearances, they don’t want to pay attention. That’s just being willfully obtuse.
Just look at his misuse of the office he holds.
When Aiden pulls out a stool at his island, I push all thoughts about mayor jackass away. He doesn’t get to come on this date with us. I barely stop myself from shivering at the thought of him popping up. That would be horrible.
It’s why I parked down the block. This is a little more clandestine than I’m used to, but I’m not hating it so far.
I prop my chin in my hand while watching him pull out a few bowls with topping options and he sets them on the island for me. His movements are easy and confident. It’s clear he’s used to cooking in this kitchen.
“What else can you cook?” He glances at me and I straighten slightly, unsure if I should be too casual. It’s not like this is a real date-date, right? It’s a bargain. “Is this how you cook most nights, I mean? And where’d you learn? I can’t imagine Mayor Simmons being the type of man to know his way around the kitchen.”
The words slip out and I slap my hands over my mouth and look at Aiden with wide eyes the moment I realize it. “Sorry,” the word is muffled by my hands and barely recognizable.
He moves around the island, and I turn on my stool as I track his movements. When he’s standing right in front of me, he rests his forearms on the counter behind me, caging me in.
He smells good, cedar and sage, reminding me of days gone by that weren’t really like I remembered them to begin with. My back is so stiff and I’m holding myself so still that my muscles are aching.
