Chapter 17
17
“ W hat's this favor that you need?” Simon asked almost warily.
Carlisle was standing on his patio, looking like it was going to be something, maybe a lot of something. She’d walked right across the grass and up the back patio steps, this time with a bowl of mixed vegetables and of course, the often present mason jar of homemade ranch dressing.
This time, she’d come with a smile and a request, too.
He tried to act casual. He’d kissed her on the couch—the couch that now sat in his living room. The couch that, every time he sat on it, he wished for the dent of her body next to his. He could again feel the soft brush of her lips against his, the rush of heat at just that small contact.
And the rush of pleasure at knowing it hadn’t scared her away, small as it was.
They hadn’t mentioned it, but she did lean closer to him now, personal space invaded. And he liked it. A lot.
As she sighed at him, trying to drum up the nerve to request this favor, Simon wished she was on the couch with him. He was using an old monitor hooked to his laptop as a TV. He'd watched a movie the night before, thinking that she should be there with her buttered popcorn. He’d conjured the feel of her arm against his, the memory of their mouths and the desire for more.
Though he'd wanted to ask her over to watch with him, she was sleeping odd hours, and their first date wasn't for two more nights. He didn't want to push. She'd kissed him back and he was not going to jinx it.
So now, when he looked at her, he tried to act natural. He tried to act like the chicken and shrimp skewers on the grill were just another day. He had to admit he ate better with her coming over. He probably was trying to impress her, just a little. By himself, he might have had steaks and burgers every night. But for Carlisle, he'd even done salmon on cedar planks.
She'd asked about tilapia, so he bought it. He was buying groceries anyway, he told himself, it wasn't like he was breaking the bank. The couch she’d led him to had been a better price. But he was going to need an actual TV and probably a stand to put it on if he was going to invite her over for a movie.
Things he would do tomorrow. He tried to focus on her being in front of him now. “Spit it out. What’s the favor?”
“I need you to get online and pre order a kit on my website.”
He nodded, not as horrible as her expression would have led him to believe. But he saw the bowl of vegetables balanced carefully in one hand, the mason jar clutched in her other as if she were still distressed.
She blurted out, “I need you to use your own credit card to do it!”
“Are we trying to steal my credit card information?”
“No!” she protested heartily before she realized he was joking, not accusing her. Then she laughed. “I just need you to do it exactly as though you are the one doing it. So that I know the system works.”
He nodded. She'd been talking about learning how to build the sales page. She’d had him look at it before and they’d walked through, talking about a little troubleshooting, things he—as a pretend customer—might want. He’d asked her if it was possible for someone to order more than one to the same address.
“Shit!” she’d declared delicately, then they talked about the fact that if someone ordered more than one, they all went to the same place.
“I added the option to order up to five kits. Then Jane suggested we offer bundles of six or ten and give a discount.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Sure, if anyone is even going to order one of them!” She seemed to have little faith, but he thought they might just knock it out of the park on the first try.
“Also, I had to fix the shipping. If you clicked to order four kits, it quadrupled the shipping cost and that’s ridiculous.” She set down the bowl of veggies a little hard, but he didn’t say anything.
He recognized the china pattern. Her dinnerware. He’d probably seen about five different serving dishes by now, all of which matched the plates she’d served him on. White on white with subtle swirls around the borders. He had blue. At least they were metal and enamel and not plastic. He hadn’t told her his mother had picked them up at a clearance sale and that was why there were only three of the small plates and two of the matching mugs.
“I think it’s ready for a real world test, if you would.”
Simon nodded. “Tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
Though he had navigated the site himself a few times helping her out, he’d mostly seen it from the back end. He had been looking over her shoulder as she tried to point out different plug ins and menus she’d added.
“I do actually get a kit though, right? ”
“Oh God, no,” she protested again as if he couldn’t possibly want to order one from her with real money. “We're also going to cancel your order. You're going to practice that for me too, please.”
Of course, he was going to do it. But the last please , and the look in her eyes would have put him over the edge even if it had been something he was mostly unwilling to do.
Dammit, she was not in his plans.
Even as he watched her setting the table for him, oooohing and ahhhhing over the meat on the grill, she stood at his shoulder, her hand touching his arm. Her touches were easier and more casual now. Hopefully it signaled to him that she, too, wanted more. She'd already said yes to the date.
Turning away from the grill to look at her, he wanted to say, “I'll do it but it'll cost you,” but he didn't because he didn't want payment. He didn’t want to be that asshole that demanded sex—even just a kiss. He wanted her to want him the same way he wanted her.
He just reached out and tucked his fingers into the front of her shirt at her waist. Tugging her closer, he was happy when her feet moved easily. The grin appeared on her face. She knew what he wanted and she wanted it, too.
A kiss shouldn’t make him this excited. But as the tips of her sneakers touched the tips of his, she lifted up onto her toes, her mouth aiming for his. The knowledge that she was reaching for him stole his breath. The air cooled in the bottom of his lungs for just a moment and the need for her was positively gravitational as his fingers curled into the fabric.
If he was paying attention, he would have worried about stretching her shirt. If he was paying attention, he would have worried about pushing her too fast. If he was paying attention, he would have pushed her away, because he didn’t know how to do this and he didn’t want to disturb the new life she was carefully building for herself .
But her fingers had reached his shoulders, and they were digging in as though something as simple as a brushing of their lips was something she needed.
The world moved in slow motion until his mouth touched hers. And then everything caught on fire.