Chapter 28
Taking her here was a risk.
A huge one, considering it’s our first date and, depending on how well it goes, could very well be our last. Watching Aubrey date from the sidelines over the years should have made this easy on me.
Not to mention the last few weeks of being the world’s shittiest dating coach and learning even more about her preferences than I ever picked up on before.
Yet, somehow, I’m still not a thousand percent confident about what I’ve planned for her, and that’s freaking me out.
She doesn’t say a word as I open the car door and offer a hand to help her out.
Even once she’s gripped my fingers and stood on long, leather-wrapped legs in the quiet parking lot, she keeps her peachy, glossy lips pressed together.
Her eyelashes move beneath the satin blindfold I slipped on her earlier, betraying her curiosity.
Her newly painted blue nails are rounded as they drag over the back of my hand, our fingers linking. I shut the door behind her and swallow my nerves, forcing them into a box. When I stand in front of her, it’s with a smile that I know she can’t see.
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry,” she answers, finally speaking.
The sound of her voice settles me more than my repeated confident boosting thoughts do. “Let’s go, then.”
“You know, I’ve done a really good job of not asking what we’re doing.”
I chuckle, nodding as I give her hand a soft tug and slowly lead her through the secluded parking lot. “You have, and I’m very, very proud.”
“So, when are you going to take the blindfold off?”
“When we get there. If I take it off now, you’ll spoil the surprise.”
“Is it somewhere we’ve gone together before?”
“Aubrey,” I scold lightly.
“Please tell me that I at least dressed appropriately.”
I almost groan.
Not in annoyance or frustration, but from the primal hunger that I’ve been suppressing since picking her up.
Regardless of how many times I’ve told myself that she only dressed up like this because of the concert later tonight, I still wondered if maybe, just maybe, our date played a part in her decision.
The straight-legged, leather pants that wrap around her thighs like a second skin fell victim to my heated gaze a dozen times in the car, and now, as I allow myself another look, I’m biting the inside of my cheek to keep from telling her just how much I like them.
Her hips are wide and still so goddamn grippable that my palms tingle.
Lifting my eyes, I’m met with the shimmering, sheer fabric of the long-sleeve she’s put on over a plain black tube top.
Her onyx hair cascades over the see-through material in loose waves that dip down to kiss her waist and brush against the ring of black feathers around her wrists.
“You look perfect,” I rasp, straining against saying more. Too much.
“Are you just saying that because we’re on a date?”
My fingers twitch to lift her blindfold so she can see just how serious I am.
“No, Aubrey. I mean it. You look gorgeous. Nobody is going to believe that you’re here with me.”
That makes her crack. Her laugh is a twinkle in the silence around us, and I squeeze her fingers, needing the reminder that she’s really here.
“Are you in disguise again?”
“Would that bother you?” Because I’d take off my glasses and hat if it meant she’d keep laughing like that.
“No. But, if you’re not, then I don’t think you’re right about nobody believing I’m here with you. I’m pretty sure it’ll be the other way around.”
“If you’re trying to butter me up so I’ll take the blindfold off, it’s working.”
She reaches out and flicks my chest. “That’s not what I was doing.”
“We’re almost there, anyway. Two more minutes won’t kill you,” I tease, voice dropping.
“That’s what you think.”
“It’ll be worth it.” I hope.
Without stopping, I bring our hands to my lips and kiss her knuckles, letting them remain in place for a minute.
She doesn’t say anything, but I don’t miss the slight hitch in her breath or the twitch of her soft smile.
Every step we take is confident, perfectly in time despite her not being able to see.
There isn’t a sliver of hesitation in her body language as she lets me lead her somewhere unknown.
She trusts me.
We pass behind a cluster of small businesses, and then the area opens up, revealing our real location.
The sun hasn’t set yet, which means the strings of lights strung between all of the different food trucks aren’t lit, but it doesn’t matter.
We’ve been here more times than I can count over the years, which means she’s already seen how beautiful the giant parking lot looks when the moon’s out.
I’m hoping she won’t hold that against me.
“It smells like hot dogs,” she says.
I snort a laugh and guide her in front of me before releasing her hand.
She taps her fingers to her stomach in anticipation as I bring my fingers to her shoulders and let them linger.
The heat from her skin radiates through the thin top she’s wearing, and I have to force myself to move on.
Slowly, I tuck her hair behind both of her ears and feel the shiver that has her moving against my chest.
“Are you ready?” I ask, dipping my nose to her hair, inhaling the smooth scent of her vanilla perfume.
She hums, tipping her chin.
Straightening my shoulders, I slowly untie the back of the blindfold and ease it off, careful not to drag it over her eyes.
I catch her quick blinks as her vision adjusts and then step from behind her to her side, desperate to see more.
Sensing me, she turns her head my way, the deep blue of her eyes swirling with what I think must be approval.
“You’re right. This was worth the secrecy. I didn’t know they were open again already,” she gushes before surveying the trucks, her cheeks warming to a soft pink.
“The water was cleaned up a few days ago. I got lucky.”
For the last three weeks, this block has been dealing with a couple of busted water lines, which had the parking lot swimming. I truly did get lucky that they’ve reopened already. This is the first place I thought of when I asked her to go on a real date with me.
Pressing my hand to her lower back, I drop my head and murmur, “It’s nothing fancy. But I figured you’ve had enough of stuffy restaurants and could do with something comfortable.”
“No, it’s perfect. This is exactly what I want,” she argues fiercely.
It’s impossible not to get lost in the clear waters of her open gaze.
It’s familiar but, at the same time, completely new.
Just like this place, looking at her isn’t unfamiliar to me.
But the way she’s holding my stare with her skin flushed and lips rolling together is completely uncharted territory.
And when those beautiful blue eyes drop to my mouth before skirting back up, her lashes fluttering, I know I’m a goner.
New or not, all I know is that I want to learn how to navigate this new dynamic.
The lingering fear of what could happen if this goes wrong isn’t enough to stop me from gliding my hand up her spine and tucking my knuckle beneath her chin, lifting it further.
Nor does it convince me that leaning down and tasting that slippery gloss isn’t the best course of action in this moment.
Her exhale skates across my lips before I flatten them to hers and taste her for the first time in days.
Our phone call at Wes’ was only one of many since. My time in Minnesota was harder than any road trip that I’ve been on in the last seven years, and I’m not going to pretend I don’t know why. Leaving Vancouver—leaving her—was different this time.
I’ve barely been back for two hours, but there was nothing that was going to keep me from being here tonight. Every needy text message we sent and innocent phone call that turned into me locking myself in a shared hotel bathroom every night with my cock in my hand has led to this.
“Where do you want to start?” I whisper against her mouth.
Her small fingers trace patterns on my side as she hovers, blinking up at me. “Your choice.”
I press my nose against hers and tighten my hold on her chin before reluctantly releasing it. Only once I’m inhaling air that’s not full of her scent can I think properly. My head clears as I run my fingers through her hair and then press them into her back.
“Hot dogs, then,” I muse.
“You’re starting strong. If you’re not careful, I might catch a glimpse of all your cards before we make it to the second truck.”
“What makes you think I’ve got cards to play?”
“Do you think you’re the only one who knows things? You might be showing off with your phenomenal taste in date locations, but I can still read you like a book.” She winks before taking large steps toward the pale pink and blue food truck with the lit sign on the roof spelling Hot Mess Dogs.
It’s tucked between the mini-donut truck and one that I’ll be bringing her to next for lemonade.
The plethora of picnic tables is spaced along the pavement between both sides of trucks, creating an alley for everyone to eat.
In all the times that we’ve been here, we’ve always sat at the same table, and as I eye the empty ones, something hot sparks in my chest when I notice ours sitting vacant.
The lack of people tonight is working out in my favour in more ways than one.
I follow Aubrey before settling at her side in front of the truck’s window. My sunglasses and hat are a weak-as-hell disguise, and it wouldn’t surprise me if the guy who owns this truck knows exactly who I am but has never mentioned it. If that’s the case, I owe him big time.
“Two poutine dogs with extra cheese. And I mean extra. Really load them up, man. I want them gooey,” I tell him. The snort-like noise Aubrey makes has me twisting her way with my brows lifted. “What?”
She shakes her head, that plump bottom lip of hers nestled between her teeth. Then, I feel her hand settle between my shoulder blades as she moves closer, watching as I tap my phone to the debit machine and pay.
As soon as the guy at the front moves to start preparing our hot dogs, Aubrey pushes up until her mouth grazes my jaw. My skin crackles, pulse jumping.
“I like watching you pay for me.”
My throat bobs. “I always pay for you.”
“This is different.”
“It’ll always be this way,” I say, lowering my voice so there’s no chance the cook can hear. “I know you don’t need anyone to take care of you, but that’s all I want to do.”
“Maybe I could let you do it every once in a while. As long as I get hot dogs and lemonade in return.”
I quirk a half smile and kiss her temple. “How did you know lemonade was next on my list?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“You’re cheating.”
“That’s you, actually. Taking me here when you know I love this place. You’re already miles ahead of any other guy who’s taken me out just from the venue alone.”
I shuffle us away from the window and over to the larger one, where the ledge for the food rests beneath it. “Does it bother you?”
“That you know all of my favourite places?”
“Yeah, and that I already know so much about you.”
She rolls that around in her head for a minute. “I don’t think so. Does it bother you that I know you just as well?”
“Not at all.”
“Maybe it worried me at first. When I kissed you. Before that, even,” she admits, her words sounding a bit tighter now.
“But . . . once couples have been together for a long time, it’s normal for them to know just as much about each other as we do.
They don’t break up because they don’t have anything to learn anymore.
The only difference is we started as friends first.”
“Two poutine dogs!” the guy calls from the truck.
I glance over and see our food waiting on the ledge. As I reach over to grab both hot dogs, I ask her, “Is that what you see us as, Aubrey? A couple?”
“What?” Her cheeks burn a deeper shade of red now. “I meant if that’s what happened. If things went well enough.”
My heart throbs as I try to hide a grin.
There’s a white plastic table set up against the truck that’s loaded with an array of condiments, but I bypass them all, only snagging a few napkins before turning back to her.
Some of the heat in her face has dulled, but she’s still watching me shyly, embarrassed.
“And what’s your gut telling you? Do things look like they’re heading that way between us?”
“It’s pretty early to tell,” she mutters, taking her hot dog when I hand it over, her blue nails popping against the plain cardboard container.
“Nah, I don’t believe that. Your gut’s always blabbing.”
She laughs as we head for the lemonade truck. “You make it sound like I’m judgmental.”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
“It’s not good manners to tell your date she’s judgy, Finn.”
“Good thing I didn’t say it, then. You did,” I say, winking.
With a roll of her eyes, she stares down at her hot dog before pinching it between her fingers and bringing it to her mouth.
Her lip gloss stains the bun as she bites down, and a glob of gravy drips into the container.
I can’t take my eyes off her. Not when she looks over at me and wrinkles her nose in an attempt to get me to stop or as she pulls the hot dog away and licks her lips, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk.
The light in her eyes nearly blinds me. I feel my throat tighten before I force myself to finally look away. If I’m not careful, I’m going to go too hard, too fast, and spook her.
I know that my dating history is thin, filled with short-term relationships and women who I didn’t ever see a future with. I’ve never been opposed to settling down, though. The idea doesn’t scare me. Rather, finding someone whom I can spend the rest of my life with excites me.
I know I’ll be a good husband and, eventually, someday, a loving father. Commitment isn’t my enemy; I’ve just never been in a relationship where I saw myself carrying those titles.
Maybe I was just blind.
What if I was looking for something—for someone, who was always right in front of me?
The thought hits me like a train, my blood pumping a little faster.
I’m so screwed.