I hadn’t dated much in my life. A small handful of guys, most of the relationships short and awkward.
Never had I even imagined one taking me to a bookstore on a date.
A bookstore.
“We were talking about those tarot-inspired books, so I thought you might want to look at them. And I should get the first book in that other series, with the wizard and the cat.”
I grinned over at him, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning.
“That sounds amazing. And you should. Also, the dragon riders. You’ll like that.”
He winked at me. “Well who hasn’t dreamed of riding a dragon now and then?”
And then I almost melted for an entirely different reason.
He tugged me into the store, and it was beautiful. Brightly lit and full of books, what more could a person ask for? We located the many series we’d been discussing, and it branched out into discussions of other things on the shelves that we had—or hadn’t—enjoyed, and why.
This time, Dean would occasionally check his watch, like he didn’t want to accidentally shut down the store again. I couldn’t blame him for that.
Still, we were standing in the middle of the mystery section—the last one we hadn’t been all the way through—and when he glanced at his watch, he stopped and scowled. Then he huffed a sigh. “I guess we should probably check out. But that Italian place the barista mentioned is probably open till at least ten. We could have dinner?”
The word “no” didn’t even occur to me. Why would anyone ever say that?
“Sounds amazing.”
As though to punctuate, my stomach grumbled aloud, and I cringed. Dean laughed, grabbing my hand in his once more as he led me up to the front to check out.
Before I could say anything or offer to buy the books I’d recommended to him, he grabbed everything out of my arms and dropped our haul on the counter, then handed the cashier a credit card.
But... wasn’t he a singer? Shouldn’t I be the one paying?
I’d always paid with Geoff, if only because he’d complained about how “uneven” his paychecks were, even though as I’d found out later, he had never worked on a commission basis.
But Dean sorted our books into stacks, helped the cashier bag them, and turned to me, holding out the bag with mine in it. “Now, fettuccine?”
“As long as there’s garlic bread, I’m in,” I agreed.
He quirked a brow. “Garlic bread, huh?”
“I mean, what kind of monster doesn’t love garlic bread?”
He considered for less than a second, then gave me a goofy smile. “Vampires, obviously.”
Then as we left the store, instead of taking my hand again, he wrapped his arm around me, laying his hand on my waist and pulling my body against his.
Sometime while we were in the bookstore, it had gotten dark outside.
How had that happened?
As we turned to walk toward the restaurant, I heard a buzz and click behind me, and when I turned to look, the woman who’d just sold us our books was in the process of turning off the open sign in the bookstore window. I blinked in shock for a moment, and as I turned back to our walk, wondered just how late the Italian restaurant was open.
CHAPTER 10
DEAN
Icouldn’t remember the last time I’d talked for hours with someone, never bumping up against an awkward topic or something that held no interest for him or me. Even dinner took half an age to get through, helped by the fact that I’d insisted on tiramisu after huge helpings of fettuccine Alfredo and enough garlic bread to take out a whole nest of vampires.
We ate slow, stopping to talk between every bite, so it was almost eleven by the time we left.
