But I knew whatIknew, too. We lived in very different worlds. Choosing my words very carefully, I said, "Well, itfeelslike I love you. I mean, I think about you all the time."
He grinned. "I know."
And just like that, I was laughing again. "Oh, I see how it is."
"No. You don't. But you're gonna."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean," he said, "I'm tired of the bull, so here's the deal. You're gonna let me spoil you, and you're not gonna say one word about owing me or anything like that."
This trulywasridiculous. "Is that so?"
"Yeah. It is. Starting…" After a long, dramatic pause, he gave me another smile. "…now."
"Why now?"
"Because I'm tired of waiting. And so are you."
He was right. Iwastired of waiting. And wondering. And obsessing. I couldn't help but recall the very first time I'd seen him, standing in the shadows after that crash.
Even then, I'd wanted him. Was it lust? It might've been. But now, it was something else. Something more. And – oh, boy – the lust was still there.
Still, I wasn't quite sure what was going on. Just fifteen minutes earlier, he'd been refusing to let me into his house. And now, he was confessing love?
I felt compelled to ask, "Is this a sudden thing?"
"How I feel? No." His gaze met mine. "But how I'm gonna deal with it? Yeah. But like I said, I'm tired of waiting."
I knew the feeling. I was tired too. I was tired of longing for him, thinking of him, obsessing over him, and so much more.
I bit my lip. "So, where do we go from here?" I glanced toward his house. "Like, does that mean you want me to come inside?"
"No."
"No?" I gave a confused shake of my head. "Why not?"
"Because I’m taking you out."
"Where?"
"Shopping."
Was he joking?He had to be. "For what?"
He gave it some thought. "For starters, a car."
My jaw dropped. "What?"
He gave a slow nod. "Yeah. A car. What's your favorite color?"
"Um, purple, I guess."
He gave another nod. "A challenge. I like it."
"But you're not serious."
"The hell I'm not."
