Page 34 of Tripped Up

“I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow,” Wyatt finally says.

“Tomorrow,” I repeat. A little thrill runs through me at the thought, equal parts nervous and excited.

“See you then.”

twelve

Wyatt

Elsy is wearing a fucking sundress. It’s like she knows they’re my kryptonite. She’s standing on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building, wearing a royal-blue sundress with a white halter strap around her neck, drawing my attention to her chest. The dress flows over her generous curves, making my cock twitch in my jeans.

Fuck. Why is she so fucking hot?

As I pull up to the curb, she breaks into a smile. I open my door, ready to get out and open hers, but she’s already wrenching the door handle and sliding in beside me. I catch another hint of lace on her thighs and swallow, forcing my eyes onto the road ahead.

“Hey. How was your trip?” she asks.

“Good. We won.” I managed an assist on Puppy’s first NHL goal. That’s something I’ll carry with me. The kid has skills. It’s clear he’ll go far. One day, my name will be in the history books for that assist.

“I saw.” She looks at me from the corner of her eye before she slips on her sunglasses. “Where are we going?”

“Lunch, first. Viggy recommended this place downtown,” I tell her as I pull into traffic. “Then we’ll figure it out from there.”

“Sounds good.”

We’re quiet on the ride to the restaurant, but it’s not awkward. I’m not sure what I expected after her unprompted phone call. I’m glad she called me, though. She reached out. She initiated. Maybe she doesn’t hate me as much as I thought.

Or as much as she thought.

When we get to the restaurant, I’m quick to throw the car in park and get to her door before she can. My mother always taught me to open the door for a woman. It irritates me she doesn’t let me do that for her.

Elsy gives me a strange look as I hold open her car door. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” I play dumb.

“You don’t have to open my door. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

“I know you are. I just want to.”

She hums, clearly unimpressed.

“Let me do this,” I tell her, keeping my voice soft and gentle. She’s like a kitten; one sharp word, and she’ll spook, and I’ll lose the headway we’ve made lately. “It’s important to me.”

“Okay,” she says after a moment. “What’s next, you’re going to pull out my chair and tell me I’m pretty?”

“You’re very pretty.” I set my hand on the small of her back as I guide her to the restaurant.

A beautiful shade of pink colors her cheeks. “You don’t have to lie to me. Don’t be a dick, Wyatt.”

I stop in the middle of the entryway. Spinning her to face me, I set my hands on her shoulders, left bare by her dress straps.

“Elsy,” I say seriously. “You are very pretty.”

She swallows, and her eyes turn glassy, like she’s about to cry.

I squeeze her shoulders. “You are beautiful. And it kills me that you can’t let yourself believe that.”

Her lower lip trembles. “Wyatt…”