My eyes dropped back to the sweatshirt. “You know, I could get you one in your size. Women’s cut, fitted. Whatever you like.”
She glanced down, tugging the hem self-consciously, then looked up at me with a small, almost shy smile. “I like this one.”
“Because it’s comfortable?”
She hesitated, cheeks turning the softest pink. “That and it smells like you,” she admitted quietly. “It’s like your arms are wrapped around me, even when you’re not here. I find that comforting.”
I didn’t think. I just reached for her, one hand sliding to the small of her back, the other cupping her jaw as I pulled her into me.
Our mouths met softly at first, then deeper, her lips parting on a surprised breath that turned into a quiet hum against my tongue. She tasted like toothpaste and sleep, and the way she melted into me, fingers curling into the front of my jacket, made every early-morning nerve worth it.
I resisted the urge to press her back against the doorframe, mostly because I knew she didn’t like feeling boxed in, but also because that would lead to other,naughtythings that we did not have time for.
When I finally pulled away, her eyes were still closed. “That was—”
Intoxicating? Delicious? Hot as fuck?
“—way too romantic for our unromantic non-date.” Her eyes popped open and she gave me a mock glare. “No kissing on the doorstep like a Hallmark movie, Bennett King.”
I brushed my thumb across her lower lip, grinning. “It’s your fault, baby. You can’t say stuff like that and expect me not to kiss you.”
Her laugh was soft, breathless. “Understood.”
She slid out of my arms and climbed into the passenger seat of my truck. I had both the heater and my favorite playlist blasting seconds later.
She buckled in, rubbing her hands together against the chill. “So, what are we doing for our unromantic non-date date? Gas-station sushi and a monster-truck rally? Renewing our licenses at the DMV?”
I snorted. “Damn, don’t take all my good ideas.”
“Brooks took Dani on a ghost tour once.”
“That actually sounds kind of fun.”
“Sure,” she said, narrowing her eyes playfully. “If you’re into spooky stuff and true crime documentaries. I’m more of a rom-com and nature documentary kind of gal.”
I shifted the truck into reverse, backing out of the driveway with one hand on the wheel and the other reaching across to lace my fingers through hers.
“So, I should cancel our hike to a secluded cabin then?” She blinked repeatedly. “Relax. I promise I’m not luring you into the woods to harvest your organs.”
“Comforting,” she deadpanned.
“That’s more like a fifth-date activity.”
We drove in easy silence for a while, the playlist humming low—some indie stuff I’d thrown together, nothing too sappy. The sky changed from black to bruised purple as we headed west on a quiet highway.
After about twenty minutes, I turned off onto a narrow country road lined with bare trees on either side. The pavement quickly turned to gravel, then to packed dirt. Bella straightened in her seat, peering out the windshield.
“Okay, this is how horror movies start.”
I laughed so hard I almost missed the turn.
“I’m serious. Random farm road, zero cell service, hot guy who’s probably great at hiding bodies.”
“Hot, huh?”
She rolled her eyes, cheeks pink. “You know what you look like, smartass.”
A minute later, our destination came into view. It would’ve been damn near impossible to miss the farmstand, what with its Barbie-pink hue and twinkling lights, not to mention a disco ball that rivaled the size of Saturn.
