“Nope.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” I chuckle. “What exactly do you see?”
“That I have my work cut out for me.”
“Work?” I sip my beer with one hand while grabbing a wing with my other hand.
“After you roll all over me later, I’m not going to want you rolling all over some other guy a month from now. So …” He hides his mouth behind his beer mug, but I still see the sexy bend of his lips. “I need to figure out a way to keep you invested.”
“You’re here, in Iowa, because you couldn’t keep your last girlfriend invested. Not gonna lie … I’m a little worried for you.”
He shakes his head a few times before taking a swig of his beer. “I think I’ve got this.”
“When will you know?” I bite into a very spicy wing.
“In the morning.”
I don’t respond. Basking in the aura of his confidence is too much fun. Over the next two hours, we find no gaps in conversation. It flows. We flirt. More randomness. Plenty of laughter. I prepared myself for a quick, awkward, and painful dinner.
It’s been just the opposite.
“We can split the bill.” I reach for it when the waitress sets it down.
He snatches it away and shakes his head. “I learned that lesson the hard way.”
Oops … I do believe that was the coffee date.
I stand and slide my handbag over my shoulder as he leaves cash for the check before handing me my naked bouquet.
“Thank you.” I laugh as he opens the door for me. The scattered trail of petals, that recklessly leads back to our lofts, makes my grin swell.
“You set the bar high,” I say.
“I haven’t set the bar anywhere yet.” He rests his hand at the small of my back as we cross the street and things get real.
The flirting.
The banter.
The endless sexual innuendos.
It’s all fun and games until we reach my floor, which happens to be his floor too. He stops in the middle of the hallway, even with his door, but three doors shy of mine.
“You haven’t seen my loft.”
I turn to face him, feeling a nice buzz but nothing that’s overriding good judgment. “I bet it looks like mine, minus one bedroom.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. But how do we actually know?”
“I guess I can take a peek.” I rub my lips together and his gaze slides to my mouth which forces my gaze to his mouth.
After a few seconds of not moving—not checking out his loft—we make eye contact again, and it’s clear what he’s thinking because I’m thinking it too.
“I need to use the restroom,” I say.
Eric grins. “Okay. You can use mine.”
“I’ll use mine.” I point toward my door.
“Sure. So … I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Wait? What? No. I’m just peeing and doing a few other things for tonight. He’s calling it?
“Yeah.” I take a step away from him and toward my door. Why did I mention urinating? Surely after that much beer, he needs to pee too. “Tomorrow.” Pivoting, I roll my eyes at my bladder ruining a good buzz, hundreds of flower petals, and my best flirting game.
So smooth …
The lights are off when I open the door. Freya really didn’t think I’d be home tonight. Neither did I.
But dammit! I need to pee. And my breath is terrible after those wings and a supreme pizza. Once I relieve myself, I brush my teeth and rinse with mouthwash twice. Then I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
My heavy eyes close, and I think of Eric and his smile. His thick hair. And those defined muscles rippling along his naked chest and back as he did his mating dance for me at the climbing gym.
My favorite book creeps into my thoughts. Maybe he didn’t finish it. Maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction, and he will love it if he finishes it. That would make him acceptable.
Deciding not to waste a perfectly good evening with a near-perfect guy, I shut off the bathroom light, sneak out the door, and lock it behind me. My fist makes a forward motion toward knocking on his door, but I stop at the last second.
Turning back around, I run my hands through my hair. “This is a stupid idea.”
“It’s not.”
I jump at his voice. How did I miss the sound of his door opening? My heart awakens again, racing to keep up with my thoughts. A tiny gasp whooshes past my throat from the warmth of his fingers sliding into the back pocket of my capris.
He pulls me into his loft. Before I can turn to face him, he presses his bare chest to my back and nuzzles his face in my neck as the door closes. My eyes drift shut when his calloused hands slide around my waist.
“The book club book …” My words come out breathy. “Did you finish it?”