“Birdie.” I speak softly, coaxing her to meet my eyes. “We can’t start our relationship by keeping things from each other. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing you should be bothered with… this is all just pretend anyway,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
My chest tightens at her words, and I can’t bring myself to ignore her unease. I glance over my shoulder to make sure the road behind me is clear, then ease off the gas and pull onto the side of the road.
Birdie’s eyes widen. “Why did we stop?”
I don’t answer right away, shutting off the ignition and moving the flowers to the dash before sliding into the middle seat beside her.
“Let’s get one thing straight. If we’re doing this, we’re a team.” My knees bump against the dashboard as I shift to face her. “That means relying on each other when things get hard. From here on out, if you’re in a bind or need someone to talk to, I’m your man.”
As much as I hate this fake bullshit, I intend to treat it like an actual relationship. Do I have any clue what that looks like? Not even a little—but I’m committing to it regardless because Birdie is important to me.
“You’ve already gone out of your way for me, and I don’t want to be more of a burden than I already am,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper.
I exhale slowly, muttering a string of curses under my breath for messing this up again. Somehow, I’ve given the impression that I’m here out of duty, and it’s on me to set the record straight.
“Lesson twenty-six: Never be afraid to take up space,” I state.
She scrunches her nose as she studies me. “What happened to lessons two through twenty-five?”
“Never said I was going in order, now did I?” I wink. “A little unpredictability always keeps things interesting, don’t you think?”
The corner of her mouth quirks up. “You going to tell me what the lesson means?”
“Your feelings are valid, and you deserve to share them with your partner without fear of judgment or worrying you’re an inconvenience. Any man who can’t see your worth in your most vulnerable moments isn’t worth your time—period.” I let my fingers trace over the knuckles of her hand resting on the bench between us. “Now let’s try this again. What’s on your mind, Birdie?”
I brace myself, half expecting her to clam up, but instead she clears her throat, meeting my gaze as she speaks. “Earlier, I panicked when you texted me about our plans. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to come to your place or if you were coming to mine,” she explains, pushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “Then you showed up at the feed store, and every scenario I’d imagined went out the window, leaving me back at square one, trying to guess what would happen.”
“If you had questions, why not text me back?”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” she confesses softly.
Unable to keep my hands to myself any longer, I scoot closer and cradle her face, gazing into her inquisitive blue eyes. “Whatdid I just say? You’re never a bother. Text me whenever you want.” I pause as an idea pops into my head. “In fact, let’s make it a rule—you have to message me at least five times a day.”
Her posture stiffens, a faint flush blooming along her neck. “I can’t. That’s way too much. You’ll get tired of me.”
Never.
“Fine, ten times a day it is. Sound good, or should I keep going?” I challenge.
She lets out an adorable huff of frustration, squaring her shoulders. “You’re not playing fair, Walker.”
“Never claimed I would,” I counter. “I’m new to all of this too, so I get how overwhelming it can be.”
She gives a dry laugh. “I don’t see how you could possibly relate.”
I sigh internally. If erasing my past would mean she saw me differently, I’d find a way to do it in a heartbeat.
Since I can’t possibly tell her any of that, I settle for a particular truth that hides the full extent of how deep my obsession with her runs.
“I’m used to casual hookups, but I’ve never been on a real date. Not one with conversation, laughter, and a kiss at the end that leaves me counting the hours until I can see her again. The concept is terrifying, and I’m probably just as scared of screwing this up as you are.” The confession isn’t easy to share, but I hope she sees this isn’t as easy for me as it might seem.
“Wait.” I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. “So… you were never planning on us having sex tonight?”
“No Birdie, baby.” I like how the new nickname rolls off my tongue. “Tonight’s about teaching you to expect to be wooed before you let a man take you to bed. That starts with flowers, holding open your door, and noticing the little things—like how you fidget with your necklace and bite your lip when you’re nervous,” I say, brushing my thumb across her mouth.
She smiles, pressing her cheek against my palm. “In that case, we’d better get started if you’re going to woo me properly.”
