Chapter Four #3
“I’m sure.” My hand settled at the small of his back, and he shifted toward me, just slightly. “I want to go. With you.”
Ollie smiled like he was trying not to. He folded the flyer once, twice, then reached around me and tucked it into my back pocket, his knuckles grazing my hip through the denim. The movement brought him close enough that I caught the scent of his shampoo, something citrus and clean.
“So you don’t forget,” he said.
“Wasn’t going to.”
“Now you really can’t.”
Thank god Ollie hadn’t slipped the flyer into my other back pocket or he would’ve discovered my losing bingo card.
A burst of laughter from Greta’s direction. Neither of us looked over.
“We should head out,” Ollie said.
“Probably.”
Neither of us moved for another few seconds.
We pushed through the exit into evening air that had cooled since I’d arrived. The parking lot was mostly empty now, but a cluster of seniors lingered near the entrance, talking and laughing like they weren’t ready for the night to end.
I knew how they felt.
Irene stood slightly apart from the group, nodding at us as we passed.
“Have fun, boys,” she called out.
“Miss Irene,” Ollie said.
She flashed a grin. “He’s a keeper, Ollie. Don’t screw it up.”
“I’m trying not to,” he murmured, oblivious to how clearly I could hear him.
“You’ll be okay,” she said.
Ollie shook his head, but he was smiling. We continued across the parking lot toward where my bike waited. The shuttle sat several spaces over, waiting for the occupants to climb aboard.
Stopping next to my motorcycle, I turned to face Ollie. His hands were shoved into his pockets, looking at me like he was trying to figure out what happened next.
My hands reached for his, pulling them free from his pockets. His fingers immediately curled around mine, and I led him the last few steps to the bike.
“You have fun?” he asked, uncertainty in his tone.
“Yeah. Thanks for letting me crash your fun time.”
“You didn’t crash. You invited yourself, sort of—well, I wanted you there, so—” He laughed at himself. “I’m ruining my words again.”
“You talk fine.”
“I talk too much.”
“I like it.” I raised one hand to cup his jaw, my thumb brushing his cheekbone. “I love listening to you.”
“Even when I’m rambling?”
“Especially then.”
His breath hitched, and his gaze dropped to my mouth. Desire was written in every line of his body: the way he leaned in, the quick lick of his lips, the way his grip on my hand tightened.
“Can I kiss you?” My voice was rough with need.
“Please.”
I pressed my lips to his. He made a low sound in his throat that shot straight through me. His other hand gripped my vest, as if I might vanish if he let go.
The kiss deepened. He parted his lips, and I swept my tongue inside, tasting coffee and something sweet. He pressed closer, and I eased him back against the bike, pinning him gently with my body.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. His eyes were dark, pupils wide, and his lips were pink and swollen.
“Wow,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“That was…wow.”
I chuckled. “You already said that.”
“I know.” He kept his fist tangled in my vest, reluctant to let go. “I should get back to the shuttle—make sure everyone’s actually on board.”
“Probably.” But neither of us moved as cars passed on the street, people lingered close by, and the faint sound of an airplane could be heard overhead.
“Diesel?”
“Yeah?” I brushed my knuckles across his jaw, mesmerized at the way he instinctively leaned into my touch.
“I really like you.”
Warmth spread through my entire body. This had become more than trying to get Ollie in my bed. I wanted him on the back of my bike, permanently. “I really like you too.”
“Okay. Good. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.” He released my vest and stepped back, putting space between us that neither of us wanted. “I’ll text you about the Paint and Sip?”
“You better.”
“I will. Promise.” He started backing toward the shuttle, nearly tripping over his own feet. I reached out to steady him, and he laughed. “I’m fine. Totally coordinated. Nothing to see here.”
I swiped my thumb over his cheek. “Get in the shuttle before you hurt yourself.”
“Yes, sir.” He gave a mock salute then turned and headed toward the vehicle.
Halfway there, he glanced back. Our eyes met across the parking lot, and color flooded his face again. He ducked his head, but I caught the smile before he turned away.
Watching him walk away felt wrong. Like I should’ve followed him, kept him close, made sure he got where he was going safely. But the shuttle was right there, and Ollie was perfectly capable of handling himself.
The seniors filed on ahead of him. He climbed in last, pulled out, and was gone. I stood there until the taillights rounded the corner and disappeared.
I was grinning like an idiot.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Crowbar: How was sad bingo?
Me: Won something better than a gift card, I typed back.
Crowbar: What?
Me: A second date.
Three dots appeared then: Good. I suck at interventions.
I pocketed the phone and swung onto the bike. The ride back was all streetlights and cold air and Ollie—his laugh, the flyer he’d tucked into my pocket like he was leaving a note.
Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.