Chapter 3
Drew
Trent might have been the one to ask me out on a date, but I was the one driving.
Duh.
“So where we going, frat boy?” I asked from the driver’s seat of my sweet Fastback. She was proof that some things got even better with age.
Well, T was solid proof of that too, sprawled out in the passenger seat, taking up every inch of space with his thick jean-clad thighs and well-toned chest wrapped in a T-shirt he stole from my side of the closet.
It looked better on him, molded around his biceps and broad shoulders, a worn-out image of some fries across his torso.
The band on his finger had been there since the moment I’d put it there, and the leather strap of his watch was worn.
He had not one gray hair to speak of, the dirty bastard.
It seemed I’d gotten my and his share. His sandy hair was a little long on the top, and the way he ran his hands through it made it part to the side and fall over his forehead.
“I was thinking that new French bistro across town. I know you’re anxious to try out the escargot,” he said, not even able to try and con me with a straight face.
I shook my head and sighed. “You finally take me out on a date after months, and I get snails? Being old and married has changed you.”
Laughing, he leaned over the console to invade my personal space. “I called over to Ernie’s. He’s holding the back booth.”
A smile split my face. “Now you’re talking.”
“Only the best for you, babe,” he mused, withdrawing to the other side.
I caught the front of his shirt and tugged him back. “If you want me to drive, you gotta give me some gas.”
His mouth covered mine without hesitation, hand wrapping around the back of my head to hold me in place while his tongue bulldozed mine. I groaned into the kiss, getting swept away by the pull between us.
T started to pull away too soon, but I tightened the fist in his shirt and made a sound, and he came back enthusiastically, our teeth colliding with the effort.
He chuckled, and I bit down on his lower lip, making his nostrils flare.
My stomach buzzed with desire as I chewed lightly on his lower lip, tugging it away from his face before releasing it.
“Forget dinner,” Trent said, reaching for me again.
I smacked his hand away and started the engine, its rumble filling the air.
“Fries before guys.”
He collapsed back into his seat with a laugh.
“I’ll drive. You shift.”
His head rolled across the seat toward me, a lazy grin tugging the corners of his mouth.
He was enough to make a man forgo fries.
“Let’s do it.” He agreed, dropping his hand on the gearstick.
I drove way too fast and maybe blew a stop sign on the way to Ernie’s Diner, a place we’d been coming to since before we even admitted we could never just be friends.
You know what they say: The more things change, the more they stay the same. And French fries at Ernie’s with my guy was something that would never change.
The neon red of the diner sign reflected off the windshield when I pulled in to park. The scent of grease and pancakes filled my nostrils the second I flung open the door and got out. I breathed deep, appreciating the nostalgia this place always made me feel.
“Ahh, nothing like the smell of clogged arteries and asphalt,” I mused, slamming the door behind me.
Trent’s sneakers squeaked when he vaulted over the hood of the Fastback and landed by the front tire, a few pieces of loose gravel skittering as he straightened. “I am not getting any younger,” he mused, putting a hand to his back like some oldie.
“Well, I think you’re sexy as hell,” I said, stepping up so close that the toes of our sneakers knocked.
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and rumbly. Sexy as hell.
I nodded. “Uh-huh.”
Gaze darkening, he slid his hands into my open leather jacket to palm the sides of my waist. The battle the sun put up for summer lost the second it dipped below the horizon, and autumn stole the night, leaves rustling against the moody backdrop of darkness and filling the air with its sharp bite.
“Kiss me like you mean it.”
I didn’t have to, but I pushed onto my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck, my elbows bending at how close I pushed. Instead of going in for the kiss immediately, I glanced up to the sky and dragged my chin across his lips, tickling them with my scruff.
He groaned deep in his throat, and I smiled, doing it again because this man was such a sucker for my beard and I loved riling him up. The pads of my fingers grazed the back of his jaw, and his warm breath whispered across my skin.
“Mask,” he warned in that sexy-as-fuck tone.
The second I lowered my chin, he was on me, lips like Velcro affixing themselves to mine and gripping like they would never let go. I melted against him, loving the way his muscles locked up to support mine while his tongue did a thorough search of my mouth.
There wasn’t a place inside me this man hadn’t found, but he was never complacent, always searching, always willing to take on more.
I loved him so intensely some days it felt like my heart beat just for him. It didn’t matter how much love I gave to everyone else. I always had more because the reason my heart knew love at all was him.
His hands slipped around to the small of my back, pulling me closer, and I rubbed against him, the scent of his familiar cologne mixing with the leather of my jacket and—
Beeeeeeeep!
Our lips popped apart when I jolted back, the air slapping against my damp lips and making me shiver.
“I got you,” Trent murmured, not even shaken by the loud interruption.
“Get a room!” someone yelled.
Trent stuck his arm in the air, his middle finger on clear display as his free hand palmed the back of my head and pulled me back in.
The warmth of his lips made me sigh, and I kissed him again while he held the rest of the world at bay.
When he was done, he pulled back slowly, dropping two final kisses before lifting his head. Mind fuzzy, I blinked as the sounds and scents of night came back.
“How about those fries?”
The urge to snuggle into his chest and beg to be held was right there on my tongue, the craving suddenly stronger than fries. But this was date night, so I held out my hand and let him lead me inside.
You know what I’d learned since waking up from a coma?
Since my life was irrevocably changed and I became a husband and a father?
Giving up control to someone else once in a while didn’t make me weak like I thought it would for so long. It was just the opposite. It made me stronger.
The radio was playing oldies, and it competed with the busy line cook flipping burgers and chopping hashbrowns while the dishwasher clinked dishes and tossed silverware around.
A few booths were full and there were people at the counter eating pie, but Trent didn’t let go of my hand, just walked confidently toward the back of the bullet, our arms stretching between us as I followed.
When we got to the booth in the back, he smiled and picked up a piece of wide-ruled notebook paper with the word reserved scrawled across in black pen.
“Thanks, Ernie!” Trent called, waving the paper toward the counter.
I had no idea if that was even the guy’s name or if it came with the place when he bought it, but we always called him that and he always answered. Today, his answer was a whistle followed by laughter.
Trent turned to me and winked. “Only the best for you, baby.”
Snickering, I slid into the faux-leather booth beside him, pushing right up against his side. He draped his arm around my shoulders and kicked his feet onto the seat on the other side of the table.
“Remember when you used to sit across from me?” he said, pointing with the hand draped over my chest.
“That’s too far now,” I replied, settling deeper into him.
“It was too far then too.”
I laid my head on his shoulder, both of us ignoring the menu. We’d been here so many times over the years that I could probably recite it in my sleep.
A waitress dressed in jeans, a red T-shirt, and a black waist apron strode down the aisle between booths and slid a large red basket lined with checkered paper loaded down with golden fries in front of us.
A sound of appreciation ripped right out of me as I straightened and dug in. The hot fry was crisp on the outside and softer inside with the salt melting on my tongue with a zing.
So good. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” I wondered and shoved another three in my mouth.
She laughed and shook her head. “Aren’t you going to share?”
“No. I need ketchup, frat boy.”
“Who says romance is dead?” Trent mused, already dumping a puddle of the good stuff into the basket.
“You boys having your usual?” the waitress asked.
“That would be great,” T replied while I nodded around a mouthful.
She returned a few moments later with two glasses with tiny bubbles fizzing to the surface and crowding the ice. What was left of the foamy head crackled, condensation already forming on the outside, hinting at the chill within.
I abandoned my fries long enough to grab a straw, rip the paper off the end, and blow the rest of it at my husband. Laughter shook his body, and he plucked it off his chest to tie a knot in the center and drop it on the table beside my fries.
Ah, good times.
Satisfied with our little tradition, I grabbed another golden stick of happiness, swirled it in ketchup, and held it out to my guy.
He arched an eyebrow. “You’re sharing?”
“It’s getting cold.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, and he leaned forward, lips parting.
I yanked it back and shoved the entire thing in my mouth. “Too slow.”
“Greedy bastard,” he mused fondly.
Salty fingers smudged his jeans when I laid my palm on his thigh and squeezed. “I am,” I concurred quietly. “Greedy for all the things I love most.”
“That include me?”
“Oh, you’re at the top of the list.”
My skin prickled when his lips brushed my ear, and the hair on the back of my neck stood when he whispered, “That mean you’re going to eat me later too?”
“I’ve always got room for you.”