Page 152 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
“Yes, that’s, um, that’s what I want.”
“If that’s the case, then let me get you back home. Don’t want to keep you from a good night’s rest.”
I pull away from him and pat him on the chest. “That’s very respectful of you, sir.”
“Sir?” He quirks a brow, making him look almost irresistible.
“Yes, well, I grow formal when nervous. Now, shall we be on our way?” I gesture toward the door, causing him to chuckle.
“We shall.”
I head out of the booth first, and Atlas follows closely behind. When I reach for his hand, he doesn’t link our palms together. Instead, he grips the back of my neck possessively and guides me out of the ice cream shop.
Dear God.
We make it down the sidewalk to where his truck is parked, and he brings me to the passenger side. Before he opens the door, he gently places me against the vehicle and tilts my chin up. “Did you have a good night?”
“A really good night,” I answer. “Thank you for taking me out, making me laugh, and creating an environment where I can be creative and think things through.”
“I want you to succeed, and I love seeing your mind work. It’s really hot.”
I smile. “You’re really hot.”
“I know.” He smirks and then bends down and presses a very light kiss to my lips before pulling away, leaving me wanting so much more. “Let me get you home.”
He moves me to the side, opens the door for me, and then helps me into his truck. I buckle up while he shuts the door and then goes around to his side. When he gets in, he glances at me and then back at the steering wheel.
“What?” I ask.
“Just thought that you’d sit in the middle, but that’s fine. I can still reach you from here.”
He buckles up, turns the truck on, and then places his hand on my thigh as he pulls out onto the road. My eyes immediately fall to where his hand is... his very large hand. I’ve had a man hold my thigh before, but for some reason, this is different. There’s a more poignant connection between the two of us, so when he does place his hand on my thigh, an addicting electricity bounces through me.
“So unlike the train conductor, do you think I can score a second date with you?”
I glance over at him and place my hand on top of his. “There will be a second date for sure.”
“See, when you don’t talk about running over people with trains, you can grant yourself a better chance at a second date. Someone should really talk to that guy.”
“Maybe he’s learned his lesson by now,” I suggest.
He shakes his head. “Once a train talker, always a train talker. He needs to find a match who doesn’t mind such conversation.”
“And what kind of match would that be?” I ask.
He gives it a thought and then says, “A mortician.”
“You know, that’s actually probably a good pairing.”
“I thought so.” He turns out of town and heads down Route 25 toward our properties.
“Is the town always this busy during this time?”
“Oh yeah, gets even busier as we near Christmas.”
“I’m sure you all love and hate it.”
“Yeah, you could say that. It’s nice having the business, but there are times when you just want to walk around the town during Christmas without droves of people getting in the way. Thankfully all the proprietors in town will hold space for townies. Which is why I was able to get a table at Prancer’s Libations.”
