Chapter 25
My fingers twist in my lap, my eyes latching onto the leftover dried glitter glue that didn’t come off.
Using the side mirror, I take in Chase and Brax talking beside the tailgate, although I can’t hear what they’re saying.
I wonder if they’re talking about the investigation.
I suppose it makes sense Brax would be helping.
He’s a detective, after all. He probably has access to resources that are helping.
Watching them makes me wonder if Chase is sharing the theory I shared with him about someone keeping him from finding the answers he’s looking for.
They do that man handshake thing where they smack hands and hug, and my nerves pick up as Chase heads toward the truck.
I rub my palms against my jeans, trying to dry the sweat off them. I don’t want him to be grossed out if he wants to hold my hand.
“Ready?” he asks when he climbs in and pulls his seat belt over him.
“Ready.”
Byrdie roars to life, and Chase pulls out of the spot after checking his mirrors. I lean forward and fiddle with the radio, landing on a no-repeats station before settling back into my seat.
“Is Brax helping you look into what Elliot and Laurel were involved in?”
“Officially, no. Unofficially, yes.”
“Are you being safe?” I ask him.
“You worried about me, Bookworm?” he teases.
“Yes.”
“Everything’s okay, baby.”
“I know this investigation is important to you. I wouldn’t have minded if you wanted to stay and talk for a little while.”
“I know, but I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t put my life on hold or let it taint the good things in my life. I’m learning to balance it all. Right now, this date is my priority, and I want you to have my full attention. That’s what you deserve.”
We fall into a comfortable silence after that. As I sit here, I’m pretending to be Zen, even though my stomach is performing cartwheels.
My brain won’t shut up. Every few seconds a new worry flares.
Is he having a bad time?
Does he regret asking me out—again?
Should I have dressed better?
My stomach flips as I glance down, the ends of my hair clumped together with glitter glue.
Dammit. Why didn’t I tie it up?
My hands are no longer sweaty, but they shimmer back at me. I accidentally transferred the excess glitter from my hands to my jeans where I rubbed them earlier.
I close my eyes.
I’m on a date with Chase Harper, and I’m a mess.
“Get out of your head, baby.” His soothing voice pulls me back. “I’m not having a bad time. Whether it’s just for a minute or sixty, there’s nothing better than your time being shared with me.”
The tips of my ears sizzle with the reassurance of his sweet words.
“You don’t need to worry about a single thing. I get why you’re nervous. If it’s any consolation, I’m kind of freaking out, too.”
“You are?” I ask him, surprised by his admission. “You don’t seem scared,” I say, peeking at him as we roll to a stop at a red light.
His eyes flick to me, and he scans my face with an easy smile on his lips. “On a scale of one to ten, how much honesty do you think you can handle?”
“I can take it,” I whisper.
His voice drops to a low base. “Every day we’ve spent together, I’ve been hoping that you would come around to the idea of us dating.
Now that we’re here, I want it to go perfectly because I want a second date and a third.
I want all your dates, Bookworm. I want you, Erin.
In my life, in my world, and definitely in my bed.
You’re on my mind constantly. I’m nervous because I said I’d be a perfect gentleman, but the truth is I don’t want to be.
I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back how you make me feel, and I’m worried that will scare you away and you’ll run. ”
“Oh,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. He’s a picture of cool, calm, and collected, and his words sink deep into my marrow.
“So, does that scare you?”
“Yes,” I say truthfully as the truck begins to move when the light turns green. “But I won’t run. I want you, Chase. I think about you all the time, too.”
“I like hearing that.”
“Are first dates supposed to feel like your heart is in your hands?”
He chuckles. “Whenever I’m with you, mine does backflips.”
Mine, too.
“Maybe we should lay out some ground rules. Figure out some boundaries,” he says.
“Boundaries?” I repeat.
“Yeah, Bookworm, boundaries. For instance, is it okay if I hold your hand?”
“Yes.”
He reaches for my hand, and I offer it without hesitating. His calloused skin presses against mine, and it takes everything to remind myself to breathe. His fingers weave with mine, his grip tight and deliberate.
“And what about this?”
He takes our interlocked hands and brings them to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on the inside of my wrist. Goosebumps erupt up my arm, fire licking at my flesh.
“Is that okay too, Erin?”
“Mhmm,” I hum, avoiding his eyes.
“And how about this?”
He unlinks our hands, sliding his to my thigh as he rubs slow circles, his thumb brushing higher, testing and testing. Desire shoots through me, the throb in my core maddening and consuming. It’s a delicious high I want more of.
I’m aching for him.
“You okay, Bookworm?” His voice is gravelly, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“I think you should keep both hands on the wheel,” I squeak, and he pulls his hand back.
“That’s my girl.”
Confusion pulls my brows into a pinch.
“Boundaries, Erin. I want to know your boundaries. If something’s not okay, I want you to tell me. I need you to tell me. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“And if something is okay, I’d like to know that, too.”
“I-I liked it when you held my hand.” He doesn’t reach out to grab it. He waits for me to make a choice. His encouraging words echo in my head.
Come on, sweetheart. You can do it.
I reach out for him, and he holds his hand up, letting me lace our fingers together. His thumb moves over my skin as our hands rest in my lap, and it’s like he’s smoothing out my anxious nerves. I take another breath and allow myself to enjoy the way his hand molds with mine.