“No, we don’t. I guess… I don’t know, but I haven’t stayed in touch with anyone. What about you?”
“Not at all. I’m afraid we ended on a terrible note. Which is why I was so glad you accepted my invitation. Emily indicated that she had… always been interested in me. And it got me thinking. I’d actually been interested in you all that while.” His cheeks flushed bright red, and he smiled sweetly at her.
Fuck yes. Trace’s belly warmed as adrenaline stirred, and she decided then and there to pull out all the stops and not let one more date end with her disappointed and alone, upstairs, in her parents’ house, watching bad action flicks with her hair in a messy bun, throwing popcorn at the screen when the good guy was too wholesome to shoot first.
Maybe Draven was an animal in the sack, to, um, compensate for the lack of personality?
“It’s warm this afternoon,” she said vaguely, fanning her cheeks before slipping her cardigan off, then the matching shell, revealing her lace-trimmed camisole that made her boobs look amazing.
She closed her salad and set the container back in the bag, then reached across, flashing a hint of cleavage as she took his empty container. Too forward? Maybe. But, desperate times and all that.
His eyes dropped low; his breath halted.
Nailed it. Ha. There was hope for this date yet.
“Come on,” she said, nodding toward the beach. “Let’s go for a walk.”
While he seemed to gather his wits, she dropped the remains of their lunch in the bear-proof waste bins. While she was still turned away, she gave her teeth one more perusal with the tip of her tongue to make sure there was no trapped spinach to cool the mood.
Time to strip down those barriers and see if he was just shy on dates. He hadn’t been shy as a friend. Or had he? This was actually the first time they’d been alone together, so yeah, he was probably just shy. A little warming up in the sun might help.
As he joined her closer to the water, she slipped her hand into his. With only a slight hesitation at first, he innocuously held her hand and followed along.
Art. Great topic. “Have you been to the Musée D’Orsay?”
“That is a great museum,” he said, glancing over at her and smiling sweetly. “Although some of the most passionate sculptures are in Italy.”
Thanks for that. One-upmanship was not sexy. But maybe he was trying to relate?
Wow, she was so bored talking to him that she was bouncing ideas off her inner monologue. “I have always wanted to go.”
The trail turned onto the walking bridge, the sturdy wooden planks echoing their deep resonance over the turbulence of the river. All other sounds drowned out, the late summer sun warming her down to her toes. Perfect spot. She stopped in the middle and looked up at him.
All signs set to go, light on green. None of her students in sight.
She hoped her kissable lip gloss hadn’t worn off.
Draven seemed to read her flashing signals that said, “This is the moment.” He leaned down and touched his lips delicately to hers, then smiled as he stood to his full height again.
Huh. She thought she’d put on the very-dark-green light, plus removed the speed limit signs, no stop signs, not a speed bump on the horizon.
Was that really…it?
Well, shit. Trace opened her posture and was about to yank him closer and spice it up, when he linked his hand back with hers and beamed a sigh, looking into the distance. “I’ve had a wonderful afternoon,” he said, satisfied as he gave a slight pull to her hand, the sort that said the date was over, time to head back to the cars.
She smiled as brightly as she could, pretending that the kiss had donesomething, as his smile was more vivid than she’d seen… ever. Like, he was actually glowing. After…that?
They walked hand-in-hand along the riverside beach, back toward the cars.
Trace’s stomach dropped lower with each crunch of gravel under her feet. She had an incredible group of friends now that she was back in Foothills, some new, some she’d known since they were in diapers. Andallof her close friends were in incredible relationships.
Sex. Lots of it. Not that they bragged about it, but they sometimes they over-shared. Sophie and Asher, apparently, had been busted a few times, once in a damn dressing room. Oral sex was like, a normal part of life for these people. They hadalldone it against the door, or in some other urgent sort of need-you-now love-making.
Was there something stamped on Trace’s forehead that said she preferred things sedate and sweet? Why hadn’t he kissed her with tongue? She preferred to get to know someone before sex, but come on, they already had a history, and he was only in town for the day.
People always thought she was nice. A good girl. It was the freckles. And the big blue eyes. And the fact that she was polite. And really didn’t seek trouble. And dressed like her mother.
When they reached the cars, they shared polite farewells. He leaned in and kissed her one more time. She rose to her tippy toes, softening her lips, pressing harder. And he… pulled away. Again. Smiled as he stood tall.
