Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Jake
Maybe I went a little overboard with hiring a car.
But everything I told Blondie is true.
There’s one reason I hired a driver that I didn’t tell her, though.
I scoot her close to me in the back seat so we can kiss.
Blondie deserves to have an easy night for once. Not a quick fuck in an alleyway.
I curated this date to show her exactly how highly I think of her.
Our lips come together in a soft, feathery kiss at first. Barely a brush of lips. Just a taste, so as not to mess up her lipstick.
“Oh,” she breathes. “Is this why you hired a driver?”
“Maybe. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you. It’s safer this way.”
She laughs, and I think my heart may explode out of my chest. If I never hear another sound the rest of my life except for her laughter, I’ll die happy.
And she’s looking at my face with none of the worry that was written in her eyes the last time we were together. She’s simply looking at me, and I can’t stop looking at her.
I cup the back of her neck, angling for a deeper kiss.
She gasps sweetly as I sweep my tongue over the seam of her lips.
“I don’t normally do this in front of other people,” she whispers, indicating the driver.
“He doesn’t mind.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“We can save the kissing for later,” I say.
She cocks her head and says, “One more to tide me over.”
I’m so happy I’ve won her over on the idea of kissing. Because kissing Blondie is pure magic. And damn, she’s fun, with her sneaky little hand reaching around and grabbing my ass as her tongue slips into my mouth.
When we finally pull up to the steakhouse in Bozeman, Blondie has to frantically reapply her lipstick.
The host seats us at a table next to a window with a magnificent view of the mountains at sunset. The dining room lights are low, with white lights glittering on the ceiling and white candles on the tables.
I catch her staring wistfully out at the view.
“What’s on your mind, Blondie?”
“I miss the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s so different there.”
“Tell me about it.”
After the server takes our order, I listen with great interest as Blondie tells me about her childhood home in the mountains, about growing up with her grandmother on a Christmas tree farm in Western North Carolina.
About all the dogs and cats and neighborhood children her grandmother took care of.
She tells me about camping and hiking in the mountains, about waterfalls and swimming holes and barbecues.
“Maybe someday we can go there together,” I say.
By this time, our food has arrived.
“You know,” she says, picking at her food, “I’m going back there when this is over.”
“I know.”
“I’m not the girl who likes to fantasize about things like that.”
“What do you mean, Blondie?”
“I mean, let’s just enjoy what we have right now and not make plans for the future. It’s too difficult to think about.”
The last thing I want is for her to have a difficult evening. I want this to be a break from all the difficulty.
So, I lie through my teeth. “Just so we’re clear. I only meant that I’d like to see that someday. Not that we’d be a couple. I agree with you. We can just enjoy what we have right now.”
From what I can see in her gaze as we clink our wine glasses together, Blondie is holding back.
This woman has a wall up, and she’s going to have to tear it down herself. I can’t do it for her.
Suddenly, she looks past me and breathes a curse. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“What?” I ask, following her stare across the room.
When I look behind me, a man in his 60s is clumsily trying to stealthily sneak out of the room, knocking over a candle in the process, which catches the tablecloth on fire.
“Oh my god,” she hisses, standing up and tossing down her napkin on the table. “Stay right there, old man, and don’t touch another thing.”
I am dumbfounded as I watch Blondie empty a glass of water on the small fire.
He tries to avoid my gaze, but it’s no use.
I know this man as well as I know my own brothers.
“Curly?”