Chapter 11
Just A Kiss (For Research)
“I didn’t peg you as the rom-com type,” Birdie muses.
She studies me from her place beside me in the truck bed, propped up by several pillows and wrapped in a throw blanket.
The audio from When Harry Met Sally, playing on the big screen ahead of us, comes through the speaker I set up in the truck bed.
“I usually stick to explosions, car chases, and the occasional western showdown, but I figured Die Hard and Tombstone weren’t first date material,” I reply with a chuckle.
Birdie’s eyes dance with amusement. “Drat, I was really looking forward to gunfights and a heroic rescue scene. This is such a downgrade.”
The scene where Harry and Sally debate whether men and women can just be friends is playing out. I almost laugh at the irony—here I am with the girl I’ve been pining over for years, pretending to be her boyfriend so she can build her confidence to date other people.
“Harry is being so dramatic,” Birdie observes, keeping her voice low. “Men and women can absolutely be friends—just look at us.”
Fuck me. How the hell am I supposed to answer?
You’re wrong, Birdie, baby. I’ve wanted you since the first time we had lunch together alone in your dad’s office. You wore a blue floral dress that matched your eyes, and when you reached for a napkin and your fingers brushed mine, the spark from that small touch hit me like lightning.
“In case all those Red Vines put you in a sugar coma, let me remind you that what I plan to teach you isn’t the kind of thing friends do,” I tease.
Birdie lets out a burst of giggles, earning a sharp “shush” from the elderly couple two parking spots over. They got here shortly before the movie started and haven’t been willing to tolerate any interruptions.
“Sorry!” Birdie whisper-shouts in return, flinching when she realizes how loud she’d been.
Damn, she’s ridiculously cute when she’s self-conscious about drawing attention to herself.
Unable to resist keeping my distance a second longer, I scoot closer and drape my arm around her shoulders.
She peeks over at me with a questioning look. “What are you doing?”
“This way we won’t get any more noise complaints,” I whisper, my mouth against her ear.
That’s not the only reason.
Okay, fine. It’s also a convenient excuse to have her close. I’ve held back since our concession run, craving the rush that ignites through my veins when we touch. The memory of her on her toes and my hand gripping her waist has left me powerless to resist her.
With all the damn foreplay, I’ll probably have a permanent hard-on until I get that first taste of her mouth on mine.
Hell, who am I kidding? The damn thing isn’t going to be appeased until I have it buried inside her, and even then, it won’t be placated for long if being inside her isn’t a regular occurrence.
I’m glad Birdie is starting to loosen up compared to how tense she was when I picked her up at the feed store.
We’ve been around each other so much in the past, I assumed we’d slip into our usual rhythm: me teasing her followed by her quirky comebacks, and the occasional playful jab.
This time though, we don’t have her friends or my family around to break the tension, leaving the two of us with all this unspoken anticipation hanging in the air.
I trail my thumb lightly over her skin. “You’re tense. Want me to move back to my side of the mattress?”
She gives a small shake of her head. “No… I’m just too scared to move.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m having a great time and don’t want to risk elbowing you in the face or accidentally headbutting you and ruining our date… sorry—fake date.” Her voice drops so low I barely catch the last part.
I grimace at her calling this fake. The warmth of her body pressed against mine is as real as the blood pounding in my veins, and I wonder if she can feel this connection too.
Birdie has spent far too long doubting herself, and it’s up to me to show her that she’s perfect the way she is—quirks and all. She just needs to get out of her head long enough to see herself the way I do: fierce, brave, and beautiful.
“Funny—at the bar the other night you seemed pretty confident when you were asking me to give you lessons, and earlier in the concessions line, you didn’t hold back, did you?” I taunt playfully, my lips twitching into a grin.
She traces her fingers over the gold chain of her necklace. “I’d had a few drinks at the bar so that doesn’t count. “
I tip her chin, meeting her gaze as her eyes glimmer in the flickering movie light like shards of sapphire. “Show me what you’d do if you weren’t so worried about messing this up. It’s only practice, so you can’t get it wrong.”
I wait patiently, letting her take the lead. Birdie exhales slowly, inching closer until our thighs touch, and her head rests on my shoulder. I brush a gentle kiss on her temple, anchoring us both in the moment, though her body is still locked up, one hand hesitating at her side.
“You’re doing amazing,” I say quietly, brushing her hair back. “Mind if I help make this even more comfortable for us both?”
Birdie looks up, a shy smile forming. “Please.”
I reach over and take her hand, guiding it across my chest before letting it rest on my hip.
“This okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Perfect.”
“Good,” I murmur. “I love having your hands on me.”
I’m struck by how perfectly she fits in my embrace, and I want to burn every detail into my memory so I never forget—from the softness of her hair to the way her body relaxes against mine, proof she’s starting to let her guard down around me.
My heart skips a beat when she drapes her leg over mine and nestles further into my arms. I adjust my grip to keep her steady, enveloped by the warm, inviting scent of vanilla and oranges in the air.
“We’re actually cuddling, and I haven’t kneed you in the balls or anything,” she declares triumphantly.
I stifle a laugh to avoid drawing our neighbor’s attention. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
God, I’d give anything to kiss her right now, but I promised to take this slow, and I won’t risk spooking her just as she’s starting to relax. Instead, I settle for another kiss on her forehead as her gaze drifts back to the movie screen.
Birdie is curled up in the passenger seat, turned toward me, her eyes closed, and her mouth parted as she snores softly.
Her hand remains outstretched across the bench seat from when she reached over to squeeze mine, telling me how much fun she had at the drive-in before promptly drifting off to sleep as we drove along the highway.
Guilt tugs at me for keeping her out so late.
No doubt she’ll be up at the crack of dawn tending to her animals.
She has a steady stream of rescues coming through, and I have a sneaking suspicion that the old shed on her property is currently home to a couple of special guests—likely the reason behind her recent run-in with the law.
But I’m not about to go digging into something I’d rather be in the dark about.
It’s late when we finally pull up to Birdie’s. I cut the engine, my gaze falling back on her sleeping form. The soft glow from the porchlight illuminates her features, highlighting just how stunning she is, and for all intents and purposes, she’s mine.
I pull the keys from the ignition and step out of the truck.
When I get to the passenger side, I open Birdie’s door and retrieve her tote from the floor before scooping her into my arms. She nuzzles into my chest as I carry her across the lawn toward her house.
Once I’m up the porch steps, I carry her to the porch swing and take a seat with her still in my lap.
She’s so damn beautiful, and I’d give anything to carry her to her room and spend the night holding her close—but saying good night here will have to do.
“Birdie, wake up,” I say softly.
She stirs, her eyelids flutter open, looking up at me with a drowsy smile.
“Hi,” she murmurs.
“Hi, baby.” I brush her hair from her face.
She sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before glancing between me and the front door.
“Shoot, last time I checked, we were in your truck on the way home. Sorry—I guess I passed out mid-conversation, didn’t I?”
“You did. Glad to know my voice doubles as a lullaby.”
She lets out a melodic laugh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Long car rides make me sleepy no matter who’s behind the wheel.”
“I’ll stick with my theory that you were under my hypnotic charm.” I wink.
She lazily drags a finger along my chest. “We’d better stick with your version of reality or your ego may never recover.”
“You’re extra sassy for someone who just woke up.”
Birdie fiddles with her necklace, a sign she’s nervous. I stay silent, letting her take the lead.
“Are you going to leave now?” she blurts out, wincing as soon as the words escape her mouth.
I lift a brow, tipping her chin so she meets my gaze, suspecting she’s panicking.
“Is that what you want? For me to go?”
She tilts her head, shaking it. “No.”
I exhale in relief. “What do you want?”
She swallows hard, her eyes flickering to mine. “I’m not sure.”
My eyes shift to her lips. “Could it be that you were hoping for a good-night kiss?”
“Do first dates usually end that way?” Her tone is curious.
“Maybe not if you’ve just met the guy.” I push down the jealousy brewing at the thought of her kissing someone else. “But since we’re friends, and this is strictly for teaching purposes, I think we can make an exception.”
I’ve spent countless nights fantasizing about kissing Birdie, wondering what it would feel like, what she might taste like. Now that I’m potentially seconds from finding out, my whole body buzzes with anticipation, and I’m suddenly the nervous one.
She winds her arm around my neck, giving me a sly smile. “I think you’re on to something.”
That’s all the encouragement I need. I shift my hand to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing just beneath her ear, where I can practically feel her pulse racing under my touch.
“Walker,” she whispers.