When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathless and panting, and I’m seconds from stripping down and asking him to bend me over and fuck me on this tailgate.
Before I can, he’s smiling and stepping back.
“Can’t go losing my head before I tell you what our date is.”
“This is a date?” I ask, butterflies breaking out in wild, chaotic wing beats. “A real one?”
He scoffs, climbing into the truck with ease. “Obviously. Dating is like the official first step in a relationship, is it not?”
“A…” My mouth opens and closes, the butterflies throwing a full blown rager in my gut. “A…what?”
Kade laughs and tips my jaw shut, kissing my lips once more. “We’re a thing, baby. Get used to it.”
Clearing my throat, I nod dumbly and turn to face him. “Okay, what’s our—”
I freeze mid-sentence and gape at the setup before me.
The truck bed has been transformed.
A thick flannel blanket lines the bottom, layered with soft quilts and a tangle of pillows. A small camping lantern glows softly from the top of a cooler in the corner, lighting the setup softly. An oak tray is perched in the center, laid out with what I can only hope is a gluten-free charcuterie dream: crackers and cheese, sliced meats, fruit and veggies, a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries, a jar of honey, and a few glass bottles nestled in ice.
And him.
He’s sprawled out on his side, propped up on one elbow, wearing dark jeans and a black shirt under his worn Carhartt jacket, cowboy boots crossed casually at the ankle. That damn baseball cap pulled low, and a smirk—the one that promises ruin and worship all at once—painted across his stupidly handsome face.
“Our date is a picnic?” I breathe, my voice cracking, eyes burning. “A nighttime picnic in the back of your truck.”
His smirk falls, replaced by something serious and vulnerable.
“No, darlin’. The picnic is because you need to be fed and looked after. Blankets and pillows are to keep you warm and comfortable. Music’s to make you smile. The dancin’ we’ll do is so you fall wildly in love with me. But the date?”
He points up.
“The sky is the date, baby. And it’s fallin’, just for you.”
I look up slowly, almost afraid of what I’ll find—because I already know whatever it is, it’s going to change something fundamental in me.
And it does.
Above us, the sky is glittering and alive. Stars scatter like sugar across velvet, and right on cue, one streaks across the heavens, then another, and another—each one brighter than the last.
“The meteor shower’s supposed to peak around two,” he murmurs. “So I asked Mom to keep Aurora overnight. Just in case.”
“You…” I choke out, body trembling, tears streaming down my cheeks. “You brought me to see shooting stars?”
“Millions of ’em.” His voice is thick. “Figured you could make as many wishes as it takes to find whatever you’re lookin’ for.”
My gaze reluctantly drags away from the prettiest sky I’ve ever seen and lands on him, the man who made it all possible. All because I told him I make wishes—one offhanded conversation weeks ago, and he did…
He didthis.
And suddenly, I know.
I love him.
Don’t know when it happened. Whether it was a slow burn built between anger, bad misconceptions, and heated arguments, or in the quiet, broken moments where we simply existed together.
Maybe it was watching Kade grow and heal for the sake of a little girl who desperately needed him.
