Page 81 of Barefoot Lake

“I haven’t. I feel like there’s so much more in this little town for me to discover.”

“Well, let me show you.”

I reach across the front seat and squeeze his hand. It’s dangerous how much I like this man, especially considering the uncertainty of our feasibility. My heart swoops with unease.

“I’ll drop you off up front,” Jake offers. I expect he wants to park away from other cars to protect the Trans Am.

“Nah. Park in the boonies. I’d rather walk with you.”

I want to soak up every second I can with him.

He squeezes my hand back and parks in an empty part of the lot. I know by now to wait for him to come around the car and open my door. I am fully capable of opening my own door, but I won’t lie. I like it when he does it.

I take his offered hand and swivel so I can slide both of my feet out of the car at the same time. The cocktail dress maneuver, am I right? I see Jake’s gaze catch at my ankles and slowly work its way up my legs, his throat working when he reaches where my skirt has slid up my thighs.

It takes Jake a second to realize that I’ve stopped my progress and he’s been caught staring. He presses his lips together and shakes his head like he’s trying to refocus himself.

“Are you sure you don’t want to head back home and spend some time in this car with me?”

“You know, I’m really questioning that decision at this precise moment.”

His eyes jump to mine before falling back to my legs, and I part my knees ever so slightly. He swallows again.

I snap my legs together and continue sliding out of the car.

“Well, now I’m hungry, so we’re going inside. And whatever you’re thinking about will have to wait.”

I know torturing him just a little bit now will pay off later, so I tug on his hand to heft myself out of the low-riding car. Once I’m standing directly in front of him, I look up, brushing my nose against the underside of his jaw. He tips his head down and likely sees the mischievous look in my eyes.

“Evil woman,” he grumbles under his breath. He closes the car door and leads me to the restaurant.

We’re immediately seated at a booth with a rounded bench in the corner of the dining room. I like it because it makes me feel like a mob boss and I get to sit beside Jake.

I flip through the menu, giddy as hell to be on a real date with Jake. We’re just out and about for the world to see instead of left home, hidden.

I soon realize that there are a lot of eyes on us, and it makes me nervous. It seems like everybody knows Jake, from the hostess to the servers milling about to just about every single other patron who waves as they pass by our table. And he’s just sitting here, shoulder-to-shoulder with me, beaming.

I really don’t want to fuck this up. I think about Boston again, and my smile slips.

Our waiter comes by and asks if we’d like anything to drink besides water. I’m distracted and don’t know what to order.

“Um… wine? Red?”

Jake smiles kindly at me and selects a bottle like his brain is still fully functioning. That makes one of us.

My leg is bouncing a mile a minute under the table as I try to focus on the menu. There’s a sudden weight on my thigh when Jake places his warm palm there, gently stroking my skin with his thumb. My leg stills, and I look sheepishly at him.

He leans over and whispers, “What’s wrong?”

“I feel like everybody is looking at us.” I start with the easier of my worries.

“They probably are. I know I wouldn’t be able to resist looking at you.”

I crack a smile, but it’s half-hearted.

“That was extremely smooth, sir.”

He chuckles.