“Experienced?” I grin. “Is that a code word?”
She glares at me, half-serious and half-adorable. “You are not old if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”
“No?” I smirk.
“You’re what I said. Experienced. Your age – our age gap – I don’t care about it. In fact, I quite like it.”
“Why?” I ask.
I know why I like it.
She’s young enough to give me a big family. She’s fertile and innocent and adorable and sexy and captivating.
Her youth adds to every aspect of what makes her so amazing, right down to her career.
I’m going to be there every step of the way, helping her grow and supporting her.
“You’re more experienced than me. Maybe you can… guide me? I’m not sure if that’s the right word.”
The conversation comes to a stop when the waiter brings our drinks and the food menus, but her words bounce around my mind.
Guide her.
Guide her career? Guide her life, our family? Guide her in the bedroom?
My hands tremble again when I think about that, my woman whimpering as I push into her, shivering against me the deeper I go, her eyes widening like she can’t believe how firmly I’m buried inside of her.
As we look over the menus, she makes a soft sighing noise.
“What is it?” I ask.
She meets my eye, smiling sweetly. It’s a combination that’s just her, the shyness and the confidence, completely uniquely Rachel.
“Who said it was anything?”
I chuckle. “Make a habit of sighing for no reason, do you?”
“I want to ask you something,” she says. “But I don’t want to ruin–”
“You could never ruin anything,” I growl. “And you can ask me anything you want. That’s what I want between us, Rachel. Openness.”
I don’t realize how hypocritical the words are until they’re out there. Here I am, telling her to be open when I’m concealing the most important emotion I’ve ever felt. I’m hiding almost everything from her, all in an effort not to scare her away.
Is that fair?
“Why did you find me on the online chat system?” she asks. “I know it could’ve been a coincidence, but you didn’t put a problem in the entry box. It makes me think you… well, you must’ve kept joining, exiting, and then joining the service to eventually find me.”
I swallow, nodding. “That’s exactly what I did.”
“So…” She spreads her hands, drawing Rusty’s gaze. “Why?”
I wonder what would happen if I told her the truth. If I explained that the first second I saw her photo, I knew she was going to be my woman forever.
What if I told her that I couldn’t stop thinking about putting a baby in her?
Maybe she’d leap to her feet, knocking the chair back, telling me I’ve gone too far.
“I wanted to date you,” I tell her honestly. “I wanted to see you in person. Because the truth is, Rachel, I had more fun with you during ten minutes in an online chat than I have with any woman. I know how that sounds, but it’s the truth.”
I almost add the rest but something holds me back, Charley’s voice in my mind.
I can’t ruin this.
I’d never forgive myself.
“Are you angry?” I ask. “For stalking you online?”
She giggles, shaking her head. “No. I can’t believe you’d want me that badly.”
“You shouldn’t have put up such a sexy picture then, should you?”
She turns away, that irresistible color rising to her cheeks.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rachel
I almost wish I could hit the pause button on the date, just so I could have a quick check-in with Autumn. Of course, I could go to the bathroom and call her, but that’s not what I want.
I want to savor each moment. As he dives into his steak and I fork my chicken, I want to freeze time to remember how Ryland laughed when he talked about his first few boxing fights.
“I was terrible, believe me, no prodigy.”
Or I could replay how his smile twitched when I talked about the first time I was brave enough to do an open mic.
“I almost died. I swear, Ryland, I thought I was going to be sick. It was a terrible performance.”
“But you did it. You proved to yourself that you could do it. Sometimes, that’s half the battle.”
The conversation moves on to my plans for the future.
I shrug as I cut away a small piece of chicken, handing it to Rusty. He takes it gently, well-trained and thankful, further increasing that certainty in my mind.
Ryland is going to be an incredible father.
“I want to make singing my career,” I murmur. “But I know I have to be realistic. The chances of becoming a singer and a songwriter and making a living at it are slim. I get that. So I’d settle for backing vocals. Or music design. Or something, anything which means I get to make my passion my job.”
“You’ll do it,” he says in that deep and assured voice.