“May I ask a rude question?” I asked when we were about ready to leave the restaurant.
“Rude? You? I doubt it.”
I chuckled. “It’s about your retirement.”
His face lit up with understanding. “You’re curious how I managed to retire at my age since reporters aren’t known to make that much money.”
I fiddled with my fingers. “Exactly.”
He covered my hands with his, sending a flash of warmth through me. “I don’t mind you asking. The truth is that I got incredibly lucky, and I mean stupid luck. I was experiencing burnout symptoms and questioning my future when I stoppedby a bodega around the corner from my paper and, on a whim, bought a lottery ticket. That wasn’t something I did often, but I did that day…and I won big time. It allowed me to quit my job, end my lease on my crappy apartment in Brooklyn, and move across the country. I was looking for something on the West Coast because my family is on this side of the country, and when I came across that farmhouse, I bought it. That’s it.”
Wow. I hadn’t seen that coming. “Good for you. I mean, somebody has to win, so it might as well be you, right?”
“I’m certainly grateful for it. I’m not sure what I would’ve done had I not gotten that windfall.”
On the drive home, we talked about everything and nothing, and I felt a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the heater.
When he walked me to my door, I held my breath, hoping he would kiss me. He stepped closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. The rough pad of his thumb brushed over my skin, sending shivers down my spine. His blue eyes met mine, asking silent permission. I gave a tiny nod, my heart thundering.
His lips were soft when they touched mine, his beard tickling my skin like a tender caress. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, and my fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, wanting to hold on to this moment. He tasted like the mint he’d had after dinner, and his hand was warm where it rested against my face. When he pulled back far too soon, the loss of contact left me wanting more. My lips tingled, and my knees felt weak like every cliché romance novel I’d ever read had suddenly become reality.
“I had a wonderful time,” he said softly.
“Me too.”
“Maybe we could do it again?”
“I’d love that.”
His smile lit up his face, and that sudden weakness in my knees returned with a vengeance. He was turning me into a blushing maiden, and even crazier was that I didn’t mind.
“I’ll call you…or text you,” he said.
“Looking forward to it…and to our next date.”
I meant every word. I was in trouble with this man in the best kind of way.
4
STANTON
Ihad to wait a whole week for our next date, which was six days longer than I liked. Sure, I saw Pascal on Wednesday afternoon before and after my time with the kindergartners, but that had been way too brief. Even if I had shown up half an hour early and stayed as long as I could afterward.
We met again on Thursday at Safe Space, where we had another amazing evening with the teens. I’d practiced their names all week, and they were shocked when I only got one name wrong. I called Byron Robert. I’d remembered he was named after a famous poet, but I couldn’t remember which one, so I’d gone for Robert Frost. Oops. He didn’t take offense though. Thank god.
Once the teens were gone and we’d tidied up, we kissed in the parking lot. Well, made out, actually, since I’d all but pressed him against my truck as I covered his lips with mine again and again. The man was addictive.
But now Saturday had finally arrived, and Pascal was coming to my place. When I invited him over, I made sure he knew hecould say no if he didn’t feel safe with me, but he immediately accepted. I was excited to show him my house.
I’d already prepared a chicken and lentil stew that would suit his dietary needs. It just needed to be heated up, and we would be good to go. The house was tidy—well, as tidy as a renovation project could be—and even though I wasn’t counting on anything, I had changed the sheets and checked I had enough condoms and lube.
When his little Prius pulled up, my heart did a happy skip. He looked adorable in skinny jeans and a polo shirt in a shade of green that brought out the warmth in his brown eyes. His hair was meticulously styled in that preppy way I loved, and I wanted to skip dinner and head straight for the bedroom. But I wouldn’t. If I wanted this to work, and I really, really did, timing was crucial. Pascal needed to set the pace, not me.
“Welcome to my humble abode.” I gestured at the wraparound porch. “Watch your step. I’m replacing some of the boards next week.”
His eyes lit up as he took in the farmhouse. “It’s gorgeous. How old is it?”
“Built in 1912.” I offered him my arm, which he took with a shy smile that made my heart flutter. “Want the grand tour?”
