Page 21 of Dare To Kiss You
The asshole has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry.” Then he taps out something on his phone, and less than a minute later, looks back at me. “Done. You have a reservation for seven tonight. You’re welcome.”
“I would say I owe you, but I’m pretty sure you just finished all the beer I had in my house,” I reply drily. Asher shrugs his shoulders, then stands up and scratches his stomach.
“Yeah, I’ll bring some over next time. Anyway, now that I’ve played fairy godfather for your date, I’m out. Have fun tonight, be safe.”
Once Ash leaves, I send a quick message to Kat, telling her what time I’ll pick her up.
Now all that’s left to do is figure out how to keep my brain occupied. I need to pass the next several hours before my date without massively overthinking and panicking about going out with the woman I’ve had a crush on for so long.
No sweat.
Standing on Kat’s front porch a few hours later, I rub my hands on my jeans frantically, hoping they aren’t too clammy.
When she steps out the door and gives me a small smile, I realize there’s nothing that could have prepared me for this moment.
Kat Donnelly is beautiful all the time.
But wearing dark jeans that look like they’re made for her curves, a cream-coloured sweater that drapes down, baring one shoulder, and makeup that only intensifies the green colour of her eyes and the glow to her skin? Kat has stolen the breath from my body. My brain no longer knows how to formulate words.
She is stunning.
“Hi.”
I blink and realize while my brain short-circuited from her beauty, she put her coat on and is now standing next to me.
“Hi. Sorry. I, um. Yeah. I should’ve helped you with your coat or something,” I stutter, still trying to get my fucking head to clear.
“It’s fine, Hunter.” Her brow furrows slightly. “Is everything okay, though? You look distracted.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I blurt out. “Shit. That was meant to be my inside voice. Not that it isn’t true, I mean, I just didn’t plan on saying it like that. Fuck. I need to stop talking now.” That last sentence I mumble to myself, certain I’m screwing this date up before it even has a chance to start.
But then, Kat’s hand finds its way to tangle with mine.
“Thank you.”
She licks her lips, and it’s everything I can do not to lean in and kiss her right here, right now. We haven’t even started our date and I’m already desperate to reach the end of it so I can make good on the promise I made to her yesterday.
Because yet again, with a handful of words and one touch of her hand, Kat has erased my nerves and made me feel like the luckiest guy on the fucking planet.
When I open the door for her, she looks up at me with a smile. “Such a gentleman,” she teases as she slides into her seat.
Defaulting to my regular charm and humour to try and cover up the bumbling idiot I’ve been thus far, I lean in slightly. “You know what they say about gentlemen,” I say with a waggle of my eyebrows.
“What?” she asks.
I drop my voice down low, hoping for an over-the-top seductive tone. “Gentleman in the streets, bad boy in the sheets.”
Her laughter fills the air as I go around to the driver’s side, climb in, and buckle up. Mission accomplished — Kat’s smiling, and I’ve got some sliver of control over myself.
“Are you planning on being a bad boy or a gentleman tonight?” Kat asks coyly and my hands grip the steering wheel tightly, so I don’t do something stupid, like touch her. I shift in my seat to face her and the attraction I’m positive is written all over my damn face is reflected back at me.
Holy hell. She wants this, too. I school my reaction before giving her a subtle wink.
“Gentleman, of course. You deserve nothing less for ourfirstdate.”
Dinner starts out fine. We laugh over calamari and share childhood stories over souvlaki.
Then it’s time for dessert.
