Page 54 of The Curveball
But every ounce of impatience or nerves or discomfort fades away the second he steps through the door, wearing dark jeans and a crisp light greybutton-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“That should be illegal,” I murmur under my breath as he strides in, dropping his keys on the counter as he quickly covers the distance between us.
He sweeps me into his arms, bending me slightly backward before lowering his face to mine. My eyes flutter closed in anticipation of a kiss that doesn’t come.
“What should be illegal?”
I blink up at him. “Huh?”
He smirks. “You said something should be illegal, I'm just wondering what that is.”
I lift my hand from his shoulder, fully confident in his hold on me, and wave it at him. “This. You. The rolled-up sleeves. All of it.”
He chuckles and finally pecks a far-too-brief kiss to my lips, then straightens us both. “Got it.”
Grabbing the front of his shirt, I drag him back in close for a longer kiss.Why did I deny this for so long?I whimper when his hand tunnels into my hair, the slight tug both painful and delicious.
Brady makes a rumbling noise against my lips, his fingers digging into the side of my hip. Then he pushes away. “We’re never gonna make it out of here if I keep kissing you.”
“I’d be okay with that,” I reply somewhat breathlessly. “Date night at home?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m taking you out tonight.” Stepping back, he holds out a hand for mine. “Ready?”
I take his hand and give him a nod. Threading myarm through his, he leads me out of the apartment, locking the door behind us. In the elevator, he tucks me under his arm, and kisses the top of my head.
“It feels really good to be able to touch you like this,” he says quietly as we descend to the ground floor. I simply squeeze the arm that’s wrapped around him even tighter in response.
After a short drive, Brady pulls up in front of an adorable log cabin style restaurant called the Creekside Pub. As we get out of the car, I hear the sound of running water and look at Brady.
He reads the question on my face and grins. “That’s Cedar Creek. This place is set right next to it.”
“Huh,” I say in surprise. “I assumed the town was named after an actual creek, but I haven’t had a chance to explore enough to find it.”
Brady nods. “It’s on the other side of town from where my place is, but there’s a nice park with walking trails. I’ll take you sometime.”
He opens the door to the restaurant, and my mouth starts to salivate with all the enticing aromas in the air. The soft murmur of conversations mingles with the clink of cutlery. Warm lighting spills across reclaimed wood beams and the roughly hewn logs of the walls.
It’s rustic, charming, and absolutely perfect.
“Hello, welcome to the Creekside Pub. Do you have a reservation?” A woman with a welcoming smile greets us as we walk up to the host stand.
“Yes, under Dixon, for two. And I requested a window table, if possible, so we can see the view?”
“Right this way.”
I take his hand and let him lead me through the restaurant to a table tucked in a corner with a stunning view of the creek and the forest beyond.
“This place is incredible, how did you find it?” I ask once the hostess has left, promising our server will be by in a moment.
“You said you were craving fish and chips the other day,” he says casually, “So I asked the guys where the best place was for it, and they suggested the pub.”
It takes me a second to figure out what he’s talking about. When I do, I’m shocked. I’d made that comment on the phone to Fiona, in passing, the day before our joint grocery shopping trip. He was in the room and must have overheard me.
And he remembered?
“Brady,” I say, reaching over the table and taking his hand. “That is…” I’m at a loss for words. Or rather, there are so many words, I don’t know which one to pick. Thoughtful? Kind? Romantic? All of the above…
“Are you starting to believe it now?”
