He opened her door, and she paused and turned to look at him. “I like the shirt, Dawson,” she said. “I like that you kissed me without even saying hello. I like?—”
“I said hello.”
She grinned at him and leaned her palm into his chest. “You did not. You said I was beautiful, and then you kissed me.”
“Well, hello then,” he said, grinning.
And there was that smile. She’d asked him for it, but this wasn’t a forced gesture. He really did seem happy to see her. “Hello,” she murmured back, her gaze droppingto his mouth, almost as if she’d miss her mark if she wasn’t looking right at it.
She kissed him, so glad that physical barrier had been broken. But he didn’t let her carry on too long. “I have something real special for you,” he said, his lips barely brushing hers. “So get in, okay? I don’t want to be late.”
“You do not like being late,” she said, safe and warm within the radius of his body heat.
“I do not.”
“Are you gonna tell me more about why that is?” She backed up and caught the hint of surprise in his eyes before she turned to get in the truck. He said nothing as she smoothed her skirt under her legs, and he closed the door.
Caroline’s heart pounded, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe from the way Dawson muttered to himself as he rounded the hood, or maybe from the way he glared at the sky like it had done him a personal wrong as he turned toward his door.
“You don’t have to,” she said the moment he opened his door. “It’s—you mentioned that there’s a reason why you like lists so much and don’t like being late, and that you’d tell me about it sometime. But it doesn’t have to be tonight.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay.” She breathed easier and looked straightahead as he adjusted the air. “So what’s this special thing?”
“It’s not awhat,” he said as he backed out of her driveway. “It’s awhere, and it’s a surprise.” He looked left and then right, his gaze holding on her before making the turn off her street. “If you don’t know about it, which would be kind of wild.”
“What is it?”
“How can I tell you if it’s a surprise?” He made the turn, and he sounded a tad disgruntled. “I think you’ll like it, and if you’ve been there before, fine. If you haven’t, then I think you’ll like their menu.”
“So it’s a restaurant.”
“I just told you it was a place,” he said.
“You said it was a where,” she said. “Not a restaurant.”
“Okay, fine,” he said. “It’s a restaurant, and I’m pretty sure I have the menu memorized at this point.” He sounded like he’d rather swallow broken glass than keep talking to her, and Caroline pressed her palms together.
Dawson gripped the steering wheel tightly—so tightly his knuckles had started to turn pale. Her pulse felt just as stretched, taut, and she wanted to snap at him. Revert to her default and demand he take her home if he couldn’t be in a good mood.
At the same time, she’d just told him about all thesedifferent facets of himself and how she liked them, and his grouchy persona was one of those.
“Hey.” Caroline reached over and curled her hand around his closest one. It took a moment for him to relinquish his hold on the wheel, and she ran her fingers over his. She moved her other hand to do the same, and he finally relaxed under her touch. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m so dang nervous,” he growled. “It’s not you.” He took a breath that expanded his wide chest, and Caroline smiled to herself.
“Why are you nervous?”
“Because I’m always nervous when I do things outside my routine.”
So he was routine, didn’t like to be late, and made extensive to-do lists. Caroline took a peek at him, this gentle giant of a cowboy driving her somewhere he’d obsessed over. Had the menu memorized.
“What’s inside your routine?” she asked. “What do you like to do?”
“I like running,” he said.
She giggled, which drew his attention from the road. Finally. “No one really likes running, do they?”
