Give Me Butterflies (Oaks Sisters #1)

Chapter 32

Finn

Millie’s eyes light up as we pull into our destination. She reads the lettering over the doors and flashes me a knowing grin.

“Is this a nerd date?”

I park in front of the modern gray building lined with huge windows. “Absolutely. It seemed like the perfect place for two

nerds to spend the evening together.”

Dionysus Games is full of every board, card, or dice game in existence. The inside is connected to Muses Books, a local bookstore

catering to every kind of reader.

I can’t keep my eyes off Millie as she gets out of the car. Her red-brown waves frame her glowing pink cheeks, and her tight

jeans and tan sweater reveal enough of her curves to make my mouth water.

Sliding my hand against hers, I intertwine our fingers. She squeezes tight, and when I look down at her, she’s beaming up

at me.

“It feels good to be on a date with you,” she whispers.

“Better than that boring guy you had plans with?” I tease.

“I don’t know. He smiles a lot more than you.”

I picture Theo’s movie-star smile and try to emulate it, plastering on the biggest one I’ve ever worn, my cheeks pinching from the force of holding it. But if Theo can do it, I can do it.

Millie cracks into bright laughter and pats my cheek. “Don’t force it. I like this, but I like you grumpy too.”

I turn and kiss her palm, and we enter through the game-store doors. Shelves and racks full of games surround us, and Millie’s

eyes are wide as she looks around the room like she’s landed on a new planet.

“This is nerd heaven,” she says as she runs her hand along a shelf of games and picks one up.

I settle an arm over her shoulders. “Let’s pick one out.”

“Only one?”

“As many as you want.”

“Are you trying to sweet-talk me?”

“Possibly.”

“It’s working.” She shrugs.

Millie spends a while browsing through shelves as I follow behind her. I’ve always loved games. Clara and I played so much

Yahtzee growing up that my nonna bought us our own personalized set for Christmas one year.

When Millie has filled my arms and her own, we walk to a table at the back and set them down to look through our choices.

I sit in a chair, and Millie stands across the table from me.

“Okay, I picked out a few things that looked good for us to try,” she says, putting her hands on her hips and surveying her

stack. By “a few” she means seven games. I have three in my pile.

“This first one is a twist on the classic Catan with a Game of Thrones flair.” She holds it under her chin for me to see.

“Trying to find a different version so you can beat me?” I tease, narrowing my eyes.

“I’ve already beaten you.”

“Fair and square?”

She bites her lips and sets the box down, avoiding my question. “Yes pile,” she says definitively.

“My first option is Wingspan.” I hold the game under my chin like she did and press my cheeks into a wide smile like I did

outside. “Board Game Geek says this is excellent.”

She bites back a grin. “A generous wingspan is excellent.”

I look at the box in my hands. “What do you mean?”

A snorting laugh bursts out of her. “I wish Fable or Tessa were here. They’d get it.”

She can tell I’m lost and slides into the chair next to me to lean my way. “Okay, there’s a popular fantasy-romance series

where the sexy heroes have wings, and they use the term ‘wingspan’ as a euphemism for a man’s...” Her gaze drops to my

lap suggestively. “The size of his wingspan relates to the size of his...” Her eyes flare with meaning.

“The size of his pants?” I ask, feigning innocence.

She leans closer and sets her hand on my thigh. “No. The size of his—”

“Do you all need any help this evening?” a cheery voice asks from beside our table. We both glance up to find a tall young

woman surveying our stacks of games.

“Hi, Deanna,” Millie greets her, noting her name tag. “We were discussing the importance of a good wingspan. Don’t you agree?”

Millie stands with a wily grin.

I don’t know how she’s pegged this woman as someone who knows whatever language she’s speaking, but Deanna’s eyes sparkle

with understanding, and she nods emphatically. “But sometimes the wingspan is more of an energy, you know? An aura about a

person.”

“Totally agree.” Millie points to the game before me. “I say yes pile for that one.”

Deanna gives me an assessing once-over and sets her hand on Millie’s shoulder. “You better put him in the yes pile too, honey.”

“I’m considering it,” Millie says, and warmth zings from my chest, spreading through my body.

Millie, Deanna, and I discuss the rest of our selections, and Deanna has great insight for the games we’ve never played. By

the end, we have ten games in the yes pile and a nonexistent no pile. Millie even picked out three games for the girls because

she saw them and claimed she couldn’t help herself.

“We’re going to have to whittle this down,” she says, looking over the games fondly as Deanna steps away to help another customer.

“No whittling. Let’s get them all.” I ignore Millie’s protests and carry the stack to the cashier to check out.

Between the two shops is a coffee house, making that our next stop. We order our drinks, and once they’re ready, we venture

into the bookstore.

“Here’s the plan,” I tell Millie as she takes a sip of her coffee. “You pick out your favorite book for me to read, and I’ll

get my favorite book for you to read.”

She slams her free hand to her chest with a loud gasp. “That’s blasphemy. You have one favorite book? Out of the millions of books in the world, you can narrow it down to one favorite?” She steps between two romance shelves, and I follow her into the aisle as she runs her fingers over the colorful

spines. “There are so many good ones. How could I pick?”

Stepping in front of her, I place a gentle hand to her stomach, pushing her back until she’s pinned against the shelf of books.

My shoe tips bump hers, and she’s forced to lift her chin to meet my eyes.

I bring my lips a hairbreadth away from hers. “How about this one?” I ask, pulling a dark book covered in flowers from the shelf above her head. When I bring it into her line of vision, her cheeks turn rosy.

“Mmm,” I hum. “You’ve read this one. Did you like it?”

She nods, and her gaze drops to my mouth.

My lips graze over her cheek as I whisper, “If I get it, will you read it to me?”

She whimpers a yes, and I have to force myself to back away. I leave her red-faced and breathless in the romance aisle before

I’m tempted to ravish her against the bookshelves.

By the time I’ve gathered three series from the fantasy section for Millie to choose from, I spot her with a basket full of

books looped over her arm. She approaches the tables and heaves it up onto the surface.

“You have a lot to pick from,” she says as I approach the table. “But first, I have to run to the ladies’ room.” She points

a finger at me sternly. “No peeking.”

Millie finds me a few minutes later at the front of the store with several bags of books in each hand. She stops with her

arms crossed over her chest, a deep line marring the space between her brows.

“Finn Ashford. What did you do?”

She tries to summon a stern look of fire and steel, but it doesn’t work on me. In my eyes, she’ll always be sunshine and wildflowers.

I drop a kiss on her temple and turn to lead her out of the store. “I checked out. We’re ready for step three of our date.”