“All month, huh? Well, in my family, we tend to avoid birthdays, so…”
“One hour. That’s all I’m asking. You’re the funniest person I know, and you’re fucking gorgeous, and I’d like to have a drink with you. Okay?”
She looks up at me, and I swear the earth shifts a little. Her smile is a little crooked, and her lips are full and pink and she’s biting the bottom one again. She shakes her head her and looks down for a second, and all my nerves come roaring back, until she reaches out to touch my arm, tilts her
THIS IS BAD. Very bad. Everything about Simon Walker is irresistible. His curls and his dimple and his mismatched shoes. His single-minded focus on every word I say. God, I hope that translates to the bedroom. Not that I’m going to sleep with Simon. But still. I hope for the sake of women everywhere that Simon possesses that kind of focus in many areas. That’s all I’m saying.
I need to remember that he’s twenty-five and I’m not. I need to remember that there’s got to be an anti-fraternization policy at Chesapeake Shores. I’ve never been aware of one, and I do edit the employee handbook annually, but still. Surely one exists?
I need to remember all of the reasons that it’s a terrible idea to fall for Simon Walker.
I need to remember how much it sucks when you don’t measure up to someone’s expectations. I need to remember how much it sucks to have your heart broken.
I need to remember Logan.
But, gah! Who wants to think about an ex-husband in the middle of a date?
I’m toying with my straw, trying to stab the lime at the bottom of my glass, and I’m having no success. I’m trying to ignore the way the his hand cradles his bottle of beer. I’m trying not to fantasize about the many other interesting things that hand may be capable of doing.
Simon was right. The bar is filling up;there’s not an empty chair in the place. Somehow, the hordes of people milling about make our date more intimate, though. I lean forward to hear him over the constant buzz of voices.
“The lady requests a subject change? Then a subject change she shall have. In fact, I think it’s time for a game.”
“Does this game involve me getting impregnated within the hour?”
He blushes scarlet. “I’m asking for a filter for Christmas, swear to God.”
“Don’t.”
“Have you been listening to the words spilling out of my mouth?”
“Every single one. And you make me laugh, Simon, so no filter for you this year.”
“You’re going to regret saying that.”
“I find I’m not regretting anything about tonight.”
“I’ll drink to that.” He takes a pull from his beer.
“Tell me more about this game. I’m awful at video games, so I hope it’s not electronic. There’s no breathing room in here, so it can’t be strip Twister. I give up.”
“Sweet Jesus.”
“Is that, like, a religious version ofCandy Land?” He laughs at my attempt at flirting and that dimple of his makes me believe I might not be terrible at this. At least, not with Simon. There’s something about him that puts me at ease. Full disclosure here, it’s probably got something to do with the fact that he called me beautiful earlier today. It probably also has something to do with the fact that it’s a special kind of thrill to hear that someone you think is beautiful thinks the same of you.
“You said it’s too soon for babies, but what’s the timeline on marriage proposals?”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You keep telling me that.”
“So…this game? Fill me in. I hate suspense.”
“I propose a scavenger hunt.”
What the hell? This place is packed, and I can’t imagine he arrived early enough to plan a scavenger hunt. Then again, this is Simon… He pulls a notebook and pen from his messenger bag—of course he carries a messenger bag. He writes quickly in large, blocked script and turns the page my way.
“First person to six wins”
