Fucking hell. Pell was right about the amulet too. It’s not protecting me from shit!
Then again… I’m not sure I want it to.
Focus, Pie. Remember why you’re here.
Why am I here again?
Russ’s eyes track back up to meet mine and ho-lee crap. I want him to bend me over the nearest table and fuck me from behind right now.
No. No, no, no! That is not how this ends, Pie. You cannot let the sheriff pork you tonight!
Definitely not in the plan.
“I’ve got our booth ready over here, Pie.” He says my name with that little western PA accent, which usually sounds a little too hick to be sexy, but not this time. And then he kisses my hands again before leading me into the dark dining room.
We pass a slew of other diners, most of whom greet the sheriff. He’s not wearing his uniform tonight. He’s got a crisp, white button-down shirt with a pair of tight gray slacks that hug his ass like a glove.
Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.
Shit. There’s definitely something wrong with me. I don’t think thoughts like this. I mean, I’ve had my share of dirty moments, but there is a time and a place for thoughts like that. And they usually come with copious amounts of alcohol and occur much, much later in the evening.
We’re just getting started here and I’m already starting to feel out of control.
The sheriff bows and presents me with a little three-quarter circle booth near the back of the restaurant and kinda secluded between some strategically-placed potted trees.
Privacy.
Maybe he wants to get dirty in the corner with me? I go all hot just picturing it.
No. Stop it. Pull yourself together, Pie!
“This booth is so cute.”
Russ Roth winks at me. “We call it the Lovers’ Nest booth.” Of course he does. “It’s where everyone wants to bring their first date.”
“So they can make out?” Why do I sound breathless?
Russ looks confused. “Well. Maybe. But that’s not why I brought you here.”
I slide into the booth and pat the seat next to me, looking up at him like I’m a siren calling him to the rocks. “It’s OK. I get it. Privacy is good on the first date.”
“Ye…ah.” He nods his head, starts to look concerned. “Yes. I understand what you’re thinking. But”—he places his hand over his heart—“I promise you, Miss Vita, I am a gentleman through and through. My mama would whoop my ass if I ever tried to make out with a woman in the Lover’s Nest booth.”
He slides in next to me and we are very close. Not squished, but comfortably… snug.
Wow. That’s kind of a sexy word. Snug.
Am I losing control here? And why is it so hot?
“What are you thinking about?” Russ asks. “You’ve got a look on your face I’d pay a thousand dollars to understand.”
“Oh. Sorry. I was distracted by our… snugginess.”
“Snugginess.” He laughs at the word.
OK. OK, OK, OK. Hold on, Pie. Maybe I’m reading too much into things? He’s not sending me sexy vibes here. And if he’s not sending them, then… who is? I look around, trying to find some other monster creature who might be interfering with my thought process. But no one is paying any attention to us.
“This is nice.”
Before I can ask what he’s talking about Russ’s fingertips are brushing against my collarbone just above the neckline of my dress. I was careful to cover up as much skin as possible so he didn’t get any fancy ideas about where this night was going. But there’s enough skin there to feel the warmth of his fingers against my breastbone. And then he’s pulling the lavender leather string up until my amulet appears in his hand. “Oh,” he says, momentarily looking confused. Then he seems to get embarrassed, because he blushes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was something personal.”
I am quiet through all of this. Not because I don’t know what to say but because my lady bits are absolutely throbbing with… what’s the word? Mmm. Let me think. Maybe let’s just call it burning desire?
This is not going well and I’ve only been here thirty seconds.
I don’t know what else to do, so I just tuck the little pouch back inside my dress and try to get my female urges under control.
“What’s wrong?” He reaches for my face and before I can protest, or tell him I’m fine, his palm is flat against my cheek checking for fever. “Cheese and rice, Pie. You’re burning up. Are you feeling OK?”
I’m not. I’m really not. Because in my head I am picturing myself doing things to this man. Things… so many things. Things I wouldn’t normally do unless I’ve been with a man for a long time and since I have never been in a long-term relationship, these kind of things have never happened. Not even in my dreams.